I Faked My Death to Run away from My Cheater Fiancè

Colton’s POV

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, adjusting the cufflinks on my shirt for the third time. Today was supposed to be perfect—or at least look that way. The wedding of the century, the headlines called it. Layla and I, the golden couple, tying the knot in front of the world. Behind the scenes, though? It was anything but golden.

My phone buzzed again, but I ignored it. Layla still hadn’t come home since that argument, and I’d resorted to using every number I could think of to get through to her. No response. Every time I called, she blocked me. It was like a game of cat and mouse, and with every block, my frustration grew.

Georgia walked into the room, closing the door softly behind her. “You look handsome,” she said with a smile, her voice laced with that familiar flirtation.

I glanced at her through the mirror. “Georgia, not now.”

But she ignored me, stepping closer and placing her hands on my chest. Before I could stop her, she leaned in and kissed me.

I pulled back sharply. “Are you insane? Someone could walk in.”

Her eyes flashed with irritation. “Why does it matter, Colton? You’re marrying her today, and I’m supposed to just stand by and smile like nothing’s wrong?”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We’ve been over this. If I end things with Layla now and marry you, it’ll ruin both of us. The press will eat it up, and the fallout won’t just affect me—it’ll drag you down too.”

Georgia crossed her arms, pouting like a child denied candy. “So what? You expect me to just wait forever?”

“No,” I said, lowering my voice. “But I need Layla to be the one to walk away. If I hurt her or humiliate her, the public will turn against me. Against us. She’s the victim in their eyes, Georgia. I need her to end things. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “Fine. But if she doesn’t end it soon—”

“She will,” I cut in, hoping to silence her doubts. “Just a little longer.”

A knock on the door interrupted us, and a voice from the other side called, “It’s time for the entourage.”

I straightened my tie and gave Georgia a look that said, Behave. She rolled her eyes but followed me out, keeping her distance like the perfect family friend she was supposed to be.

The ceremony venue was breathtaking, just as Layla had insisted. Rows of pristine white chairs, massive floral arrangements, and a sea of familiar faces waiting for the event to begin. I stood at the altar, glancing out at the crowd, trying to keep my focus. Everything was going according to plan—or so I thought.

As the music swelled, signaling the bride’s entrance, I straightened, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. Layla’s absence over the past few days had me on edge, but I told myself she’d show. She always did. Layla was too proud to let anyone think she’d been bested.

But then the music kept playing, and she didn’t appear.

I frowned, glancing toward the entrance. People in the crowd began murmuring, and my palms started to sweat. Where was she? I could feel the weight of a thousand eyes on me.

Where’s the bride?

Did she run away?

Did she leave him at the altar?

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, and Georgia sidled up to me, her smirk barely hidden. “Looks like your perfect bride isn’t so perfect after all,” she whispered.

“Not now, Georgia,” I snapped, my temper flaring.

She held up her hands, feigning innocence. “Just saying. Maybe she finally got tired of playing house. You should’ve just picked me from the start. At least I wouldn’t have embarrassed you like this.”

I stepped away from the altar, signaling to the event coordinator to stall for time. My head spun with possibilities, none of them good. Layla had always been unpredictable, but this was something else entirely.

Until my secretary rushed toward me. She leaned in and whispered, “Sir, I don’t think she’s coming. Miss Layla...she is gone.”