Dumped at the Altar, I Married His Billionaire Uncle Instead

"John, you know how she thinks. Don't fall for her tricks."

"She's an orphan with no parents, no family. Without the Gilberts propping her up, the Chambers estate would've gone bankrupt years ago. She's only ever been after your money."

John nodded in agreement, and when his gaze swung back to me, it was filled with fresh contempt.

"Ivy Chambers. You walk around playing the Oracle, all purity and restraint, and for what? To build yourself some holier-than-thou image?"

"Thank God Celeste is smart enough to see right through you."

"Since you're so eager to break off this engagement, take off the clothes I bought you and get out of my house. We're done. Permanently."

I stood rooted to the spot, utterly still. The only thing I felt was how absurd it all was.

When I made no move to undress, John's expression darkened. He flicked his hand toward the servants.

"Do it. Strip her."

They swarmed me, tearing at my clothes with rough, careless hands.

Within moments I was left standing in nothing but my underwear. They'd even ripped off my socks.

Every servant in the room looked at me with open disdain, their whispers barbed and mocking. A few of the male servants let their eyes crawl over my body, leering without shame.

"Calls herself the Oracle every day. Claims she can see the future. Too bad she didn't see this coming—Mr. Gilbert cutting her loose."

"Well, obviously. Now that he's got someone like Miss Pruitt—gorgeous, classy—who'd want some plain little nun?"

At a single command from Celeste, several servants seized me by the arms and shoved me toward the door, pushing and dragging until I was thrown out of the villa entirely.

A swarm of reporters materialized from nowhere. Camera flashes exploded in my face, one after another, blinding and relentless.

"Miss Chambers, we heard you initiated the breakup yourself. Is this a strategic retreat? Are you trying to force Mr. Gilbert's hand?"

"Miss Chambers, appearing like this in front of the cameras—are you hoping to win his sympathy and save the marriage?"

They closed in around me, shouting questions without pause.

The ground beneath my bare feet was covered in jagged gravel. Every stumbling step sent sharp pain shooting through my soles.

A microphone jabbed into my mouth. I staggered backward, lost my balance, and crashed to the ground. Something sharp pierced into my skin on impact, and a violent shudder ripped through my entire body.

Only when I looked down did I see the faint glitter scattered across the gravel path. Someone had deliberately crushed glass and spread it over the stones.

I pressed my palms flat against the ground and forced myself upright. Blood dotted my arms, my legs, my torso—small bright stains blooming everywhere.

All of it. Every last detail. Celeste had orchestrated this.

The reporters jostled against me. The humiliation of being nearly naked, the glass biting into my feet—every nerve in my body screamed.

Just as I was about to shatter, a black Rolls-Royce tore through the night like a blade of wind and stopped dead in front of me.

Morton stepped out in long, furious strides. His voice cracked across the silent darkness like a whip.

"You have some nerve. Who gave you permission to treat my wife this way?"

His eyes were pure ice. The reporters scrambled backward instantly, shrinking into themselves, tripping over their own feet.

"Mr. Gilbert, this is a misunderstanding—a total misunderstanding. We just happened to see Miss Chambers out here, and she was already—"

"Mr. Gilbert, we're so sorry. We'll leave right now. We won't bother you."

Morton ripped his suit jacket off and draped it over my shoulders, then pulled me tight against his chest.

John must have heard the commotion, because he came striding out of the villa. The moment he saw Morton holding me, his face twisted.

"Uncle Morton! Ivy is my fiancée. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I drew a long, steadying breath. Let the chaos inside me go quiet. Then I straightened my spine, wrapped my arm around Morton's waist, and stood tall.

My voice came out cold enough to freeze.

"John. Unless your memory is as broken as your judgment, you should remember—I already ended our engagement. My fiancé now is your uncle."