Our Wedding Was Ruined and I Found a Husband `15

The elevator was too small. Too bright. Too much like a cage. 

Jacob stood there in the doorway like he’d just walked into a war zone with no armor on. His face went from blank to oh shit real fast. It was obvious that he didn’t quite understand what he walked in on, but that he knew he should regret it. 

Brittany’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “Vanessa?” she repeated, tasting the word like it was poison. 

Jason’s green eyes locked onto mine with laser precision. I could practically hear the gears grinding in his head, trying to connect dots that I’d spent six years keeping scattered. 

“Where is Vanessa?” Brittany demanded, her voice climbing toward hysteria. 

I caught Jacob’s eye and shook my head. Just slightly. A warning. 

I didn’t want them to know I was Venessa. I didn’t want Jason to dig in too much about who I had become. 

I just needed to clear them away. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Jacob stammered, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to retreat. “I can-” 

“No,” I said sharply, my tone sharper than glass. “Actually, there’s something you can do.” 

Jacob looked at me, eager to do anything to diffuse the situation. 

“Security protocol,” I continued, forcing my voice to steady. “Effective immediately–no Moon Ridge wolves are permitted in this building.” 

Jacob blinked like I’d slapped him. “Ma’am?” 

“You heard me.” My words were ice. “Now.” 

Brittany sputtered, fury blotching her perfect face. “You can’t possibly—” 

“Watch me.” 

The elevator doors slid open to the lobby. I strode out, heels striking marble, never looking back. Jacob caught on fast, his phone already at his ear. Security would respond in minutes. 

“This is ridiculous!” Brittany’s shriek echoed off polished stone, too high–pitched, too desperate. Heads turned. Even the receptionist stiffened, recognizing a spectacle when she heard one. “You don’t have the authority-” 

“Apparently she does…” Jacob replied coolly. His voice didn’t waver this time. He’d learned how to play this game. I’d seen him take this approach with countless adversaries before. 

Jason stayed silent. No argument. No defense. He simply radiated fury, quiet and tightly coiled, the kind of rage that was far more dangerous than screaming. 

“Why?” he asked finally, voice low enough that it sank into the bones. “Why are you doing this?” 

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Jacob inhaled, ready to answer, but I cut him off with a single look. This wasn’t his fight. 

“Because I can.” 

The guards closed in, discreet but firm. Brittany’s composure cracked like glass under pressure. She looked seconds away from clawing someone’s eyes out, but even she wasn’t stupid enough to start a scene under their watchful eyes. 

Jason’s lip curled, but his voice was steady steel. “We’ll leave. On our own.” 

And they did. Brittany stormed like a hurricane in designer heels, while Jason’s measured, controlled movements promised something far more dangerous: inevitability. 

I went into my office and watched them leave from my cameras. My chest burned with certainty: this wasn’t 

over. Not even close. 

But for now? At least I had space. 

Space from the Jason situation lasted about two days. 

Then Alpha Morrison’s invitation landed on my desk like a summons from Mount Olympus. 

Business banquet. Attendance was mandatory for anyone who wanted their contracts to survive. The kind of event where skipping out could cost millions. And with Ava’s surgery looming, millions weren’t a luxury I could afford to lose. 

So I slipped into the role I’d carefully crafted—Vanessa Harper, businesswoman, untouchable. Dressed in all diamonds and silk. Hair pinned so tightly it might as well have been armor. A smile sharp enough to cut. 

The ballroom was an ocean of power. Crystal chandeliers spilling golden light. Waiters gliding like shadows with trays of champagne. Wolves and humans alike whispering in corners, striking deals with a clink of glasses. 

Everywhere I turned, conversations revolved around profit margins, import regulations, territory expansions. I kept pace, offering polite nods and calculated smiles, the kind that concealed far more than they revealed. 

But beneath the silk and surface chatter, I felt the walls closing in. This wasn’t my world, not really. It was 

survival dressed in sequins. 

I was mid–discussion with Morrison’s Luna about textile futures when I saw him. 

Jason. 

Standing beside Morrison, laughing too easily, too comfortably. Perfectly placed like he’d been waiting. 

My stomach plummeted. 

“Ah, Vanessa!” Morrison’s booming voice carried across the floor. He waved me over like a man presenting his prized jewel. “Perfect timing. Meet my good friend, Jason Bradshaw.” 

Every instinct screamed: run. But Morrison’s hand clapped Jason’s shoulder, grinning like a matchmaker who’d just sealed the deal of the century. 

Jason looked… both surprised and not. He raised his eyebrow curiously at me as he watched me walk over. 

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“Ah…we seem to keep bumping into each other,” Jason said smoothly, extending his hand. His smile was public charm; his eyes, private knives. “But we haven’t had a chance to talk seriously. Looks like fate intervened.” 

Morrison chuckled. “Isn’t this lucky then! You two should talk. I know Jason’s eager to collaborate.” 

And then he was gone, swallowed back into the crowd, leaving me alone with the one man I’d spent six years avoiding. 

Jason leaned close, words velvet–wrapped steel. “Dance with me.” 

“Jason, I don’t-” 

“It wasn’t a request.” 

Half the ballroom was already watching, hungry for the spectacle. If I refused, I’d be the headline scandal by morning. So, I slipped my hand into his and let him lead me onto the dance floor. 

The orchestra swelled, strings weaving through the air. His hand settled at my waist, and muscle memory betrayed me. My body remembered him–how we’d once moved like we’d been made for this. Even if my mind had worked for years to forget. 

“Why?” he murmured as we swayed. “Why shut me out specifically?” 

“Maybe I don’t approve of your methods.” 

“My methods are honest,” he countered, grip tightening slightly. “Transparent deals. Fair trades.” 

“Honest,” I repeated, my tone flat. “Interesting word choice.” 

His eyes locked onto mine. “Or maybe this is personal.” 

I forced my mask to hold. “I don’t mix business with-” 

“Familiarity.” His voice dropped lower. “That’s what it is. You feel familiar. Too familiar.” 

My throat closed. He was circling too close. 

“I have one of those faces.” 

“No.” His certainty was brutal. “It’s in the way you fight. The way your shoulders square when you’re angry. The walls you hide behind. I’ve seen it before.” He spun me, pulling me back even closer. “I’ve felt it before.” 

Panic clawed at me. If he found the truth- 

“Vanessa!” 

Jacobs’s voice cut through the music like a blade. He pushed through the crowd, my phone in his hand, face pale as death. 

“It’s urgent,” he gasped. “Your friend–she needs you.” 

Ice flooded my veins. Riley never interrupted business. Not unless- 

I snatched the phone, pressing it hard against my ear. “Riley?” 

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Her voice was raw, trembling with tears. “Nessa. It’s Ava–she’s not, they’re resuscitating her–just get here. Now.” 

The world tilted. My phone slipped from numb fingers, clattering against polished marble. 

Ava. 

I was already moving, shoving past silk gowns and tailored suits, the orchestra fading into a distant hum. My vision tunneled to the exit, Jason’s voice muffled like it was coming from underwater. 

None of it mattered. Not the banquet. Not the wolves. Not the Alpha at my back. 

Only Ava. 

My heels struck marble like gunfire, carrying me toward the doors as one prayer repeated in my head, desperate and unrelenting: 

Please let her be okay. Please. Please. 

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