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My Fiancé Ran, So I Took His Father Instead

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 671    |    Released on: 04/09/2026

low

silence that followed was the stunne

ke they'd been slapped, the

with a genuine, relieved smile. Th

y limbs, leaving me shaky. I had won. From rejected bride

crisscrossed with the pale lines of old scars. A han

g my cold, trembling hand in his. His palm

m the stage, and I land

his fingers through mine, a clear,

re on our joined hands. I wasn't Har

is tone softer now. "Prez, this is... hasty. C

recisely because he is your son that you should. On the road, a

binding his blood to the club's honor wi

t that law is universal. He tarnished the club's honor. As hi

g his responsibility to the club's honor.

thing-appreciation-in his dark eyes. He hadn't

. "She's right. It's done.

other hand and patting it warmly.

ou've finally done something to make my life easier."

leather, her gaze like poison darts. No club patch on he

d Lady. A queen bee in the women's circ

grip on my hand tightened before he r

ceremony continues. But now, you're

er. "Music! Beer! Let's

men were deafening. It was a new party, a ne

gh the throng, away from the main hall and

, whiskey, and leather. An agg

and club honors. With every step, I felt the ol

ce a low rumble. "Remember what yo

e steady. "And you remember your pr

t. A low, noncommittal grunt was his only reply as

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My Fiancé Ran, So I Took His Father Instead
My Fiancé Ran, So I Took His Father Instead
“Tonight was supposed to be my grand celebration, my public union with Colby Carlisle, the Vice President of the Serpents of Chaos MC. But when the spotlights hit me, he wasn't waiting at the stage. Instead, he was plastered against a half-naked club girl, letting her possessively trace his silver VP patch for everyone to see. Hundreds of bikers erupted in roaring laughter, watching me become the ultimate punchline. The crowd sneered, whispering that I was just a pathetic pawn in a club deal who couldn't even keep her man. Colby didn't even look guilty. He just pressed a wet kiss to the girl's neck, glared at me with utter disgust, and grabbed a microphone. "Harlow, don't make a scene. Get the hell off the stage." My nails dug into my palms until the sharp sting kept me upright. Did they really think I was just some fragile, clueless girl from a fallen family? Did Colby honestly believe I would just run away crying, accepting my fate as his discarded property? I didn't shed a single tear, nor did I run. I straightened my spine, walked right up to the emcee's microphone, and cited an obscure, dusty club law to claim absolute sanctuary. "The protector I choose is the President." I claimed his adoptive father, the undisputed king of the underworld.”