Revenge Marriage: Discovering Love After Betrayal

I sat in my car outside Howard Enterprises, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The pain of Spencer's betrayal still burned fresh, a constant ache in my chest that wouldn't subside. But something else had risen from the ashes of my broken engagement—a cold, calculated desire for revenge.

Wells Howard. Spencer's biggest business rival. The man who had been trying to outmaneuver the Morrison Corporation for years.

The perfect weapon for my revenge.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothing my hair and straightening my shoulders. I needed to look composed, confident—not like a woman whose wedding had been stolen the day before. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of my car and strode toward the gleaming glass tower.

The receptionist's eyes widened in recognition. "Ms. Collins? I thought you were getting married this weekend."

"Plans change," I replied coolly. "I need to see Mr. Howard. It's urgent."

"He's in a meeting, but—"

"Tell him it's Emerson Collins, and it's about Spencer Morrison."

Ten minutes later, I was escorted into Wells Howard's corner office. He stood as I entered, tall and imposing in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His dark eyes studied me with undisguised curiosity.

"Emerson Collins," he said, his voice deep and measured. "Shouldn't you be at your wedding rehearsal?"

"There is no wedding," I stated flatly, meeting his gaze. "And I have a business proposition for you."

He gestured to the chair across from his desk. "I'm listening."

I sat down, crossing my legs and leaning forward slightly. "Marry me."

Wells froze, his expression shifting from surprise to confusion. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me correctly. I want you to marry me—this weekend. The venue is already booked, the guests invited." I maintained steady eye contact, refusing to show any hesitation. "Spencer held a wedding ceremony for another woman yesterday, using my dress, my venue, everything I had planned."

Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by something else—anger? Sympathy? It was hard to tell with Wells Howard.

"And you want to marry me to get back at him," he concluded.

"Precisely." I reached into my purse and pulled out a folder. "I've prepared a contract. This would be a business arrangement, beneficial to us both. You get to humiliate your biggest rival and gain access to connections through my family that would advance your business interests."

Wells took the folder but didn't open it. Instead, he studied my face with unexpected intensity.

"Why me?"

"Because you're the person Spencer would least want me to marry," I answered honestly. "And because you're the only one with enough power and influence to pull this off on such short notice."

He set the folder on his desk and leaned back in his chair. "And what do you get out of this, besides revenge?"

"A clean break. No one pitying the jilted bride." I swallowed hard. "And the satisfaction of watching Spencer realize what he's lost."

Wells stood and walked to the window, his back to me as he gazed out at the city skyline. The silence stretched between us, and I fought the urge to fill it with more justifications.

Finally, he turned. "I'll do it."

I blinked, surprised by his quick agreement. "You will?"

"On one condition." He approached me, his expression serious. "This won't be just for show. If we're doing this, we're doing it right. A real marriage, at least on paper. No secret arrangements to dissolve it after a few weeks."

"Why would you want that?" I asked, genuinely confused.

Something flickered in his eyes—something I couldn't quite identify. "I have my reasons. Do we have a deal?"

I stood, extending my hand. "Deal."

His hand closed around mine, warm and steady. "I'll have my team handle everything. The wedding will proceed as scheduled—just with a different groom."

---

The next forty-eight hours passed in a whirlwind. Wells' efficiency was astounding—he arranged for a new suit, coordinated with my stunned but supportive parents, and ensured every detail was perfect. I'd expected to feel hollow, going through with a wedding born of revenge rather than love, but instead, I felt strangely empowered.

And then came the moment I'd been waiting for.

I stood hidden in a side room of the Rosewood Estate, peering through a crack in the door as Spencer arrived in his tuxedo, confusion etched on his face as he noticed the changes to the décor—subtle adjustments Wells had insisted on making to put his stamp on the event.

"What's going on?" I heard Spencer ask one of the ushers. "Where's Emerson?"

"The bride is getting ready," the usher replied, guiding him toward a seat—not at the altar where he expected to stand, but among the guests.

The look of dawning horror on Spencer's face as Wells took his place at the front of the aisle was everything I'd hoped for.