I Dumped My Fiancé Before Our Wedding

As the first pale light of dawn crept over the horizon, Sol Kelly slowly blinked her eyes open. Every muscle in her body ached. She pushed herself upright, the thin sheet sliding off her shoulders, and the night came rushing back—a messy, blurred tapestry of intimate moments she couldn't fully untangle.

Last night, after leaving the café, she'd been ambushed and drugged. Her dignity had nearly been stolen from her—until Adrian Lopez showed up just in time. Under the drug's haze, she'd clung to him with a desperate, feverish need.

The room was bathed in a soft early-morning glow from the window. As she took in the wreckage of the night, panic crawled up her throat. Then her eyes landed on the figure beside her—a devastatingly handsome face, peaceful in sleep. Sol froze. Her mind raced through every way this could go when he woke.

This man had saved her, and she'd repaid him like this. Her instincts screamed one word: Run.

The thought had barely formed before she was out of bed, yanking on her clothes—bra, skirt suit—her hands clumsy with haste. She grabbed her suitcase and tiptoed out like a fugitive.

In the living room, she paused. She left a signed blank check for fifty thousand dollars on the mahogany table as insulting "restitution".

As she headed back to prepare for her flight, a heavy sense of finality settled over her. Sol blocked Adrian Lopez's contact on WhatsApp, cutting their fragile thread for good. A fleeting encounter. Never to be revisited.

Adrian's eyes snapped open to the cold awareness that she was gone. The faint warmth beside him was the only proof she'd ever been there. His gaze dropped to the white sheets—untouched except for the vivid red mark stark against them. A complicated storm of emotions rolled through him.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. It was his assistant.

“Mr. Lopez,” the assistant said as Adrian shrugged on his jacket and sank onto the sofa, lighting a cigarette.

“The three men from last night confessed. Carly Perkins, Zamir Peterson's assistant, paid them twenty thousand dollars to ruin Ms. Kelly's reputation.”

The assistant paused, taking in the marks on Adrian's neck and chest—an unusual sight on a man known for his composure.

Three years ago, Sol Kelly had called off her engagement to Adrian, leaving him to face the gossip and the ridicule. Everyone had expected him to come for Sol, to make her pay for dragging his name through the mud.

Through the curling smoke, Adrian's expression was unreadable. “Where is she now?”

“Ms. Kelly is on her way to... the wedding,” the assistant replied, noticing how Adrian's fingers twitched around the cigarette. His eyes darkened as he reached for his phone. When he saw the vivid red exclamation mark—blocked—his gaze slid to the card on the table. An amused smile tugged at his lips.

Did she really think he was for sale?

...

Elsewhere, Carly Perkins was restless. She couldn't reach the three men she'd hired, and unease gnawed at her. She glanced at her perfectly made-up reflection, her lips curling with anticipation. By the end of the day, she'd be Mrs. Peterson.

At nine, the convoy arrived at the villa. Zamir Peterson, in a sharp grey suit, radiated an austere handsomeness. His slicked-back hair sharpened the severe line of his jaw as he approached the door, a bouquet of white roses in hand. His steps were steady but impatient, and he knocked, his voice magnetic and deep. “Sol, I'm here to marry you!”

Inside, Carly heard him and quickly lowered an opaque white veil over her face. As Zamir stepped in, his smile was tender with expectation as he approached the figure seated at the vanity.

“Let the groom see how beautiful his bride is today,” he murmured, reaching for the veil. Carly stopped him.

“It’s bad luck for you to see me before the ceremony. Let’s wait,” she said, her voice laced with fake happiness.

On the way to the hotel, Zamir held her hand firmly. He chalked up Sol's unusual silence to nerves—she'd always been outspoken, and her quietness today felt off.

The hotel buzzed with guests, laughter, and music. Sol, dressed inconspicuously with her hat pulled low, melted into the crowd. She watched the couple with cold detachment, her heart hardened by betrayal, as Zamir led Carly, her face hidden beneath an opaque white veil, into the vibrant banquet hall. The red carpet stretched ahead of them to the altar.

The officiant smiled warmly. “Groom, you may now unveil your bride and welcome your happiness.”

Zamir's eyes sparkled with affection as he lifted the veil with a delicate handkerchief. But the sight that greeted him froze his smile in disbelief.

“Why is it you? Where's Sol?” he demanded, his voice icy, glaring at Carly.

Silence fell over the room—then a wave of whispers.

“Isn't that Carly, the assistant? Today was supposed to be Zamir's wedding to Sol Kelly. How did she end up in the bride's outfit?”

“I always thought she had designs on Zamir, but who knew she'd be this bold.”

“Everyone knows Sol stood by Zamir from the beginning, while he built his company. She was always his number one. What a foolish thing to attempt.”

Carly's face went white, but she forced composure. “Zamir, Sol said she wished to bless us...”

“Impossible!” Zamir's eyes hardened as he gripped Carly's arm fiercely. “What did you tell her?”

Sol had promised to wait for him. She wouldn't have missed the wedding unless Carly had said something.

“It's true! Sol claimed she couldn't fulfill your needs, that she felt unworthy, so she wanted to step aside for us.” Carly winced, masking her pain. “Zamir, you told me you loved me, that we were soulmates...”

“Be quiet!” Zamir snapped, shoving her away.

Carly cried out, landing hard on the floor, instinctively protecting her stomach. Her gaze was pleading and vulnerable, but Zamir coldly looked away.

As Zamir prepared to order a search for Sol, the LED screen behind them flickered on, throwing the entire room into sensational shock.

One by one, images of Carly and Sol's conversations, audio recordings, and messages flashed across the screen, looping continuously.

The crowd erupted in gasps.

Everyone knew Sol Kelly had been Zamir Peterson's rock—from nothing to a successful company listing. She'd been his unfailing support when he announced her as his girlfriend at the company's celebration. Even the grand rooftop proposal had gone viral across Manchester.

The loving pair everyone had admired had ended in Zamir's betrayal with his assistant—Carly Perkins.

Carly's expression shifted dramatically as she shrieked, “Turn it off! It's not what it looks like!”

She dashed to the console, intending to pull the plug, but hotel security restrained her.

“Ma'am! Do not damage the equipment!”

As Zamir's face drained of color, his grip tightened around Carly's neck, fingers white with pressure. “You wretch! How dare you!”

He had believed her meek. He'd never suspected she'd orchestrate such a spectacle. And this was how Sol had discovered their affair.

As Carly clawed at his grasp, gasping in terror, she whispered, “Zamir, I just... I just love you too much... Please...”

...