My Fiancé Ran, So I Took His Father Instead

Chapter 5

Word Count: 724 | Released on: 04/09/2026

low

crisp, clean smell of the sheets. His T-shirt

layed the day's events on a loop, a dizz

of a key scraping in the lock

roat. I sat up, clutching

doorway. He was drunk. Not sloppy, but a dangerous, unsteady k

sed, his eyes unfocused, as

said, my voice

er vest-his Cut-and tossing it onto a chai

He went to the wardrobe, pull

toward the armchair in the corner.

My voice was sharp, cut

. A frown creased his brow, an

rs," he said, h

plush fibers. "You brought me here. You announced to your entire club that I was your Old Lady. And now you're going

fury. "You and your irresponsible son... you'r

ze in his eyes burned away, repl

e growled, his voic

are. "Sleep in this bed tonight. I have to establish that

the rumors. I don't care if you're 'broken'. We can build a wall of pillows dow

the air, a raw, d

t rising and falling with heavy breaths. The

caped his lips. He tossed the pillow

arker," he said, using my f

ked into the bathroom, and a moment

mmering against my ribs. Had I won, or had

hair, trailing down the scarred, tattooed landscape of his chest, and lower, along the ridge

ide of the bed, threw ba

"You were all talk a minute ago. I thought you wanted

twisting my own words back in my face.

ack, forcing my voice to s

sideways at the man beside me. The mattress dipped under his

Chapter End

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My Fiancé Ran, So I Took His Father Instead

Eydie Pfefferle Romance

“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.”