The white roses in my bouquet were wilting. I stood at the altar, watching the minutes tick by on the ornate clock above the chapel doors. Twenty minutes late. Then thirty. The whispers started soft, like rustling silk, then grew louder until they filled the entire cathedral. My mother's face had gone pale. My bridesmaids exchanged glances I pretended not to see. "He's probably just stuck in traffic," I said to no one in particular. My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. That's when my phone buzzed. I shouldn't have looked. Every wedding guide says the bride should never check her phone during the ceremony. But something cold and sharp twisted in my gut, and my fingers moved before my brain could stop them. The text was from my cousin Rachel: "Evelyn, I'm so sorry. Turn on the news. Channel 7." My maid of honor, Sophie, was already pulling out her phone. Her face went white as she stared at the screen. "What?" I demanded. "What is it?" She turned the phone toward me, and my entire world shattered. There on the screen was my fiancé—my Marcus—in a different tuxedo, kissing a different bride. The headline read: "Tech Mogul Marcus Chen Surprises Everyone with Secret Wedding to Socialite Victoria Ashford." The phone slipped from Sophie's hands and clattered on the marble floor. The cathedral erupted. Gasps. Shouts. My mother actually screamed. I just stood there, frozen, staring at nothing. He'd married someone else. While I was standing here in my grandmother's vintage lace gown, he was across town putting a ring on another woman's finger. "Everyone out!" my father roared. "Get out! Wedding's cancelled!" But I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Three years together. Three years of planning this day. And he'd just... replaced me. "Miss Hartley?" The voice came from behind me. Deep. Unfamiliar. I turned slowly, my veil catching on the flowers behind me. A man stood in the shadows of the side chapel. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that probably cost more than my wedding dress. His dark hair was swept back from a face that could've been carved from marble—sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and eyes so dark they looked almost black in the dim light. "Who are you?" I whispered. "Someone who can help you." He stepped forward into the light, and I noticed the scar that ran from his left eyebrow to his temple. "You want revenge, don't you?" My breath caught. "What?" "Marcus Chen just humiliated you in front of five hundred people and every news outlet in the city." His voice was calm, almost casual. "I'm offering you a way to make him regret it." "I don't even know you." "My name is Damien Cross." He said it like I should recognize it, but my mind was too shattered to place it. "And I'm proposing we get married. Right now. Right here." I actually laughed. It came out broken and slightly hysterical. "You're insane." "Am I?" He moved closer, and I caught the scent of expensive cologne and something darker, more dangerous. "Think about it. Marcus is probably watching the news coverage right now, celebrating his victory. Imagine his face when he sees you didn't fall apart. When he sees you married someone else within the hour." "Why would you do this?" I demanded. "You don't know me. This is—" "I have my reasons." His eyes held mine, and something in their depths made my skin prickle. "And you have nothing to lose. Your wedding is already paid for. The guests are here. The officiant is here. The only thing missing is a groom." He extended his hand. "So what do you say, Evelyn Hartley? Will you marry me?" My mind screamed that this was crazy. That I should run. That marrying a complete stranger was possibly the worst decision I could make. But then I thought of Marcus's face on that screen. His lips on hers. The way he'd discarded me like I meant nothing. I looked at Damien Cross's outstretched hand. And I took it. "Yes," I said. "Let's do it." His smile was slow and dangerous, like a wolf who'd just caught his prey. "Excellent choice," he said softly. "You won't regret this." But as he led me back to the altar, as my father sputtered in confusion and my mother fainted into a pew, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just made a deal with the devil himself. And the worst part? I didn't even care. ---