My Groom Ditched Me, Now I Hunt The Secret Evil Syndicate

At twenty-five, Grey Ford was the only son of the Ford family’s third branch. On the surface, he was a carefree playboy—casinos, race cars, young models—burning through more than ten million dollars a year. But underneath it all…

The voice on the other end of the line hesitated before continuing. “His casino is just a front. Behind the scenes, he’s tied to at least three European arms-trafficking routes. Last year, he moved a shipment worth around five million across the northern Swiss border. And two months ago, he sat down with the Double Dragon Society.”

Natalie Alexander raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“And there’s more.” The voice dropped lower. “Every month, Grey sends a fixed amount to an orphanage called Stardust. It sits on the border and looks after the children of drug enforcement officers killed in the line of duty. President, this man is anything but simple.”

Natalie turned off the earpiece and tightened her ponytail in front of the mirror. It made sense now. If Grey Ford was important enough to make Mrs. Hudson personally step in and arrange a marriage, he couldn’t be just some wastrel.

Footsteps sounded outside, followed by a soft knock on the restroom door. “Sis? You okay?” Kaiya Johnston’s voice was syrupy sweet through the door. “Need me to find you a spare dress? Mom brought a couple of cocktail dresses. They might be a little shorter than mine... hope you don’t mind, sis?”

Natalie opened the door. Kaiya’s smile faltered when she saw the wine stain on Natalie’s chest was gone. The white dress had been cleverly turned inside out, hiding the stained side, with a silver feather brooch pinned at the waist to conceal any sign of the switch.

“No need,” Natalie said as she brushed past Kaiya and whispered in her ear. “Next time you spill something, use a darker drink. Pouring coffee into a wine glass is a dead giveaway.”

Kaiya’s face went pale. Natalie headed back to the banquet hall, making a beeline for Grey’s table. Jonah Weber and Billy Cross were still chatting away. When they saw Natalie’s “new” outfit, Billy whistled playfully. “Sister-in-law, where’d you learn that dress trick?”

Ignoring him, Natalie stopped in front of Grey. He leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes narrowing as he looked up at her. “Grey,” she called out, her voice calm but loud enough for the surrounding guests to hear.

“Hmm?”

“Step outside with me for a moment.”

“Why?” Grey smirked. “That eager? And on our wedding night?”

Laughter rippled around them, thick with innuendo. Natalie didn’t blink. She leaned down and whispered something only he could hear.

His smile stiffened, and he shot up from his chair, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the banquet hall.

At the corridor’s end, he pinned her against the wall, looming over her with a sharp, unfamiliar intensity. “What did you just say? Repeat it.”

Trapped between his arm and the wall, Natalie’s expression remained infuriatingly calm. “I said,” she lifted her gaze, her eyes crystal clear, “the shipment you moved across the Swiss border last month was intercepted. The couriers were called ‘Venom Hornets,’ ambushed by a crew in gray uniforms driving three black SUVs. The plates were—”

Grey’s hand clamped around her jaw.

“Who are you?”

Natalie felt the pressure on her jaw, but she only smiled. “Your wife,” she replied, “the kind who just got the marriage certificate.”

He stared at her for a few seconds, then released her, stepping back to reassess the woman before him. She had a face like a delicate flower, innocent eyes, a slender waist, and thin wrists—yet when he had grabbed her chin, her pulse stayed steady as a rock, showing no fear.

“Natalie,” he called her name, his tone shifting from flippant to cautious.

“Yes?”

“Marrying me wasn’t Mrs. Hudson’s idea, was it?”

Instead of answering, Natalie straightened his crooked tie. “The wedding isn’t over,” she reminded him, patting his chest. “Come, Mr. Ford, let’s finish the toasts. Your friends are waiting to crash the wedding.”

Grey grabbed her hand as she patted him. “Natalie, you better hope we can coexist peacefully,” he warned, his voice low. “I don’t care who sent you, but if you interfere with the Ford family—”

“Relax.” She gently pulled her hand away. “I have no interest in the Ford family. I married you because...” She tilted her head, appearing earnest. “You’re easy to fool.”

Half an hour later, the wedding dinner was winding down. Guests were slowly leaving the venue, and Grey was being helped out by Jonah and Billy, tipsy and unsteady.

Mrs. Hudson took Natalie’s hand before leaving, calling her a good girl and saying, “If Grey ever gives you trouble, come to me.”

Natalie smiled warmly, promising she would as she saw the older woman off. She turned to see Stephen Alexander standing nearby with a complex expression.

“Natalie.” He called out to her.

“Dad.”

“You... handled things well today,” Stephen said, rubbing his hands, unable to voice what he wanted. In the end, he sighed. “Keep an eye on the Ford side. Even if Grey’s unpredictable, the Ford family has deep roots. You won’t suffer following him. Your sister is young and naive—don’t hold it against her.”

Natalie smiled. “I understand.”

As Stephen got into the car, Natalie heard Bella’s sharp voice inside. “Who was she trying to impress today? Wearing such an informal dress, who does she think she’s disgracing? Stephen, I’m telling you—”

The rest was lost as the car drove away.

Natalie turned back to the hotel, the night breeze lifting her white dress, revealing a faint old scar that ran from her ankle to her knee like a thin, white snake.

Footsteps sounded behind her. “Natalie.”

She turned to see Grey, having shaken off his companions, standing by the hotel’s revolving door. Neon lights danced across his face, alternately bright and shadowed. His tie was gone, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, showing a faint scratch on his collarbone—left by some woman, no doubt.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Back to the bridal suite,” Natalie replied, waving the room key. “I’m taking the bed. You can have the sofa, or go back to the ‘Nightfall’ club if you prefer. Either way, you’re not missing out.”

Grey snorted, stepping closer to look down at her. “Natalie, do you really think marrying into the Ford family means you’ve got it made? I’ll be honest—I have no intention of touching you. We’re just partners living separate lives. Once things settle with Mrs. Hudson—”

“Okay, okay.” Natalie interrupted with a yawn. “A marriage of convenience, I get it. Trust me, I’m even less interested in you. That cologne you’re wearing—two brands mixed together—those Instagram models from yesterday, right? Clean up before talking to me; the stench gives me a headache.”

He choked on her words. “You—”

“The elevator’s here.” Natalie stepped in first, pressing the button for the top floor, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “Are you coming? If not, I’ll head up alone. The card’s with me, so you’ll be sleeping in the hallway tonight.”

Grey clenched his teeth but eventually stepped into the elevator.

In the confined space, silence lingered between them as the elevator ascended.

Grey watched Natalie’s reflection in the shiny surface, her posture relaxed, eyes unfocused, as if he wasn’t even there.

He couldn’t understand it. After years of living in London and encountering all sorts of women—those who threw themselves at him, those who played coy, those after his money or fame, those who cried heartbreak—none had ever treated him like he was invisible.

Unable to hold back, he asked, “How did you know about that shipment?”

Natalie turned to meet his gaze, a slight smile on her lips. “Guess.”

“I don’t guess.” He closed in on her, the small space reducing the distance between them until he could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent she carried. “Natalie, if you don’t explain yourself today, this isn’t over—”

“Ding.”

The elevator stopped.

Natalie slipped under his arm, her flats tapping against the carpet as she walked to the bridal suite door, swiped the card, and pushed it open. She turned and beckoned him. “Come in, Mr. Ford. I have something to show you.”

Warily, Grey followed her inside.

The suite was expansive, presidential in scale, with a giant bouquet of roses, champagne, and a spiced honey cake on the coffee table.

Ignoring the decor, Natalie went to the desk, opened her laptop, and pulled up a PDF, turning the screen toward him.

Grey leaned in, his eyes widening at the sight.

It was his private financial records, every transaction clear as day, including the regular payments to the Stardust orphanage.

“You—”

“Don’t worry,” Natalie said, closing the laptop. “I’m not investigating you. I just wanted to tell you something.”

“What?”