My Betrothal Partner and the Secrets We Share

As Daniel stormed out of the boutique with Grace in his arms, his steps were firm, decisive. Had he bothered to glance up, he would have noticed the security cameras capturing every moment of their heated encounter.

The designer, fidgeting in her place, hesitated before speaking. “Miss McLaughlin, should I step in and explain the situation to him?”

I managed a small, grateful smile. “That won’t be necessary.”

It was better to end things this way. Sometimes, it’s better to leave things unsaid, to let the final threads of connection fray and fall away completely.

Time flew by. Before I knew it, the day of my wedding had arrived. It was also the day I met my soon-to-be husband for the first time.

Frederick Cortez was thousand times more handsome than Daniel.  His strikingly refined features carried a certain aloofness, an unapproachable edge. But when his gaze fell on me, there was a softness—subtle, yet unmistakable.

In that moment, uncertainty feeling about the future crept in, clouding my thoughts.

Frederick seemed to pick up on my hesitation. His voice was calm, steady, as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ve learned everything about this. Just do what I do and you’ll be fine.”

With practiced ease, he guided me through the formalities: greeting his family, participating in the tea ceremony. His poise and grace put me at ease—he knew exactly how to handle every situation, never once making me feel uncomfortable.

When it came time to get into the wedding car, his attentiveness continued. He made sure everything was in order, ensuring I was settled before stepping in himself. As the car’s engine roared to life, the anxiety that had gripped my chest began to ease.

Meanwhile, in another wedding car, Daniel couldn’t hide his agitation. It was his wedding day, yet there had been no word from me—not a single message, no updates. His phone might as well have been glued to his hand as he scrolled and rechecked his notifications for what felt like the hundredth time.

Nothing.

By the time he arrived at the hotel, the unease in his chest had grown unbearable. He scanned the bustling wedding venue, his mind racing. Turning to his groomsmen, he issued a firm order.

“Make sure Lenore doesn’t show up here to cause trouble.”

His command was met with a stifled laugh from one of the groomsmen.

“Relax, Daniel,” he said, grinning. “Lenore’s not coming to crash your wedding—she’s busy with her own. She’s getting married today, too. Right about now, she’s probably in the middle of the ceremony at another hotel.”