On the day of the wedding, my husband-to-be's secretary posted on Instagram：

【Boss is getting married today. I wanted to send my blessings, but I didn't sleep at all last night. I really don't feel well.】

The moment Stephen Sanchez saw it, he dropped the bouquet and walked out of his own wedding.

I grabbed for his arm. “Please. Don't leave me here alone. At least wait until the ceremony's over, can you do that?”

His face went cold. He shook my hand off.

“God, you're selfish. Did you even see what she posted?”

“She saved my life. I swore I'd protect her for as long as I live. How am I supposed to stand here getting married when I know she's suffering?”

“If you're worried about looking stupid up there by yourself, grab any warm body off the street to fill in. I don't care either way.”

Half an hour later, the story was trending online.

He'd found Rebecca Butler at the riverside, already in a wedding dress. He threw fifty million at a mock ceremony just for her, and let the cameras catch every second.

People were eating it up. And between the fawning, they didn't forget to tag me：

“Some people are just embarrassing. Can't even hold on to the groom. The secretary won this round and it wasn't close.”

“How do you even wrap up a one-person wedding? Is she going to drag a chicken up to the altar?”

I was calmer than any of them expected. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number：

“Seen enough of the show? Good. Get over here and marry me.”

……

The line went dead, and the entire ballroom went silent for one full second before it erupted.

The girl holding the livestream rig nearly shoved the lens into my face.

“Are you seeing this? The nerve on this bride.”

“The groom bailed half an hour ago to throw a mock wedding for another woman, and she's standing here acting like she's still in demand?”

“Listen to that tone. If you didn't know better, you'd think she's got a backup groom waiting in the wings.”

I hung up, expression unchanged.

A cold laugh cut through the noise beside me.

“Who is she fooling? She got ditched and she's too humiliated to admit it, so now she's pretending someone's coming to save the day?”

“Everyone knows Carina Sullivan spent years throwing herself at Stephen Sanchez. Waiting for him in the rain with an umbrella, hand-delivering breakfast to his office, degrading herself just to chase one man. As if there's some backup option.”

I stood there, silent, listening to every word of that venom.

And quietly laughed at my own stupidity.

All these years, I really had treated Stephen Sanchez as my future husband. I'd taken walking down the aisle as a certainty.

But things never go the way you plan.

His secretary, Rebecca Butler, was the thing I hadn't planned for.

He'd leave me stranded at a gala without a partner to go fix a pipe at her apartment.

And today, because of one 「I don't feel well」 from her—

He chose to walk out. Left me standing alone at my own wedding, facing the stares, the whispers, the interrogation from every relative in the room.

That was when a commotion rippled through the crowd.

“Check your phones! Stephen Sanchez ditching his wedding is the top trending story right now!”

“And the numbers keep climbing.”

“You have to admit, the man's romantic. One line from his secretary and he drops fifty million just to give her a mock wedding……”

Others found the whole thing absurd and weren't shy about it.

“That's not romantic. That's trash.”

“He was literally in the middle of his own wedding. He just up and bolts to play house with his secretary? How is that anything but insane?”

My mother sat rigid in the front row, her face ashen, eyes rimmed red. She started to stand, but my father pressed her shoulder back down.

“Wait a little longer. If nothing changes, we'll handle it at the restaurant.”

My father's face was ashen. He wanted to flip the table more than anyone in the room, but he was more afraid of embarrassing me further.

“Carina, why don't we……just go?”

Gladys Pruitt, my bridesmaid, leaned in close and whispered, “Sitting here waiting like this isn't going to help.”

“Stephen's already over there doing a mock wedding with someone else. He's not coming back……”

“Give me your phone.”

I held out my hand. Gladys hesitated, then passed it over.

A news alert was already sitting on the screen.

【Sanchez Group CEO Stephen Sanchez drops fifty million on a mock riverside wedding for his secretary, complete with a romantic kiss】

In the photo, Stephen stood in a tailored suit with Rebecca Butler in his arms, wrapped in a white wedding gown.

Behind them, the river sparkled with lights and drifting petals.

Rebecca's eyes were red-rimmed as she nestled against his chest, the picture of fragile beauty.

The comment section blew past a thousand replies within seconds.

“Holy shit, what kind of fairy-tale romance is this? The CEO ditched his own wedding to save his little secretary?”

“I thought this was a tragic love story between a CEO and his secretary. Turns out the bride was just collateral damage.”

“One second of sympathy for the bride, the rest goes to the secretary. Finding a man like that? Worth it.”

“Honestly the bride is kind of pitiful, but she's not the one who saved his life, so what can you do?”

I scrolled through the comments, my expression as calm as if I were reading someone else's news.

Rebecca Butler really had saved Stephen's life.

Three years ago, Stephen was in a car accident during a business trip. Rebecca donated a large amount of blood for him.

She let the nurses draw so much that she passed out on the spot.

When Stephen woke up and heard what she'd done, his eyes went red with gratitude.

He swore he would repay her.

He even stood in front of the entire company and promised that for the rest of his life, whatever Rebecca asked for, the answer would be yes.

Those words still hung in the air.

So today, one text saying she “wasn't feeling well,” and he dropped the whole wedding and ran.

“Miss Sullivan.”

The wedding planner rushed over, drenched in sweat. “What would you like to do……postpone, or some other arrangement? The photographer's asking too, whether to keep shooting.”

“No need to postpone.”

“Then do you want to……”

I glanced down at my phone. The call I'd made earlier: eleven seconds.

That was enough.

He said he'd come.

Gladys was still beside me, practically stamping her feet：“Carina, who did you even call? Who's coming? Talk to me!”

I looked toward the ballroom doors.

They were closed.

But I knew it wouldn't be long before he walked through them.

“Everyone, please bear with us. The ceremony will resume in twenty minutes.”

I held my smile, perfectly composed, and addressed the guests.

What came back wasn't respect—just whispers and laughter.

“Has she lost it? Her husband ran off and threw a mock wedding for his secretary, and she's asking for twenty more minutes? She can still smile?”

“Probably a stress response. Shock hit too hard, something snapped.”

“Please. Twenty minutes? What's she going to do, find a stand-in and put on a show?”

Through the laughter, a man in his fifties walked over and held out a glass of wine.

“Miss Sullivan, don't be upset. Since the groom's not coming, how about I step in for him?”

I didn't take it.

He laughed, pressed the glass into my hand, and patted the back of it.

“No need to be shy. Your husband doesn't even want you anymore. What are you playing hard to get for?”

Wine sloshed over the rim from the force of his hand and splattered onto the hem of my gown.

I set the glass on the nearest table.

“Thank you. I don't drink.”

“Oh, feisty.”

The man let out a derisive laugh and turned to mutter to the people beside him. “Left at the altar and still acting like she's above everyone. Does she even know what kind of situation she's in right now?”

“I offer to be your groom—that's doing you a favor—and you still have the nerve to cop an attitude with me?”

The words barely left his mouth before he moved in, hands grabbing for me.

Behind him, the other men started hooting, egging him on.

“I want a turn too!”

“Count me in!”

My parents' faces went white with fury. They were rising from their seats to intervene when my phone rang.

Earlier, to give the guests something to watch, I'd had the emcee connect my phone to the giant screen above the stage.

Someone must have hit accept.

The next second, Stephen Sanchez's face filled the ballroom screen on a video call.

“Carina, why are you still hanging around the venue like you can't take a hint?”

“I already told you. Today's wedding is off.”

“If you insist on staying, don't blame me when you embarrass yourself. You're bringing this on yourself.”

Rebecca leaned into the frame beside him.

“Carina, I'm so sorry about all this.”

“I just mentioned that I wanted to see what a wedding felt like, and Mr. Sanchez put together a whole mock ceremony for me. And look—”

She stepped back so the camera caught her full body, then did a slow, proud spin.

Showing off a gown even more extravagant than mine.

“Mr. Sanchez had this flown in by helicopter from overseas. It's a one-of-a-kind piece, diamonds set right into the train. I don't even know how many times more expensive it is than yours. Oh, Carina, you're not mad at me for saying that, are you……”

Surrounded by smothered laughter and prying stares, I opened my mouth calmly.

“Of course not.”

Stephen scoffed. “Carina, you really are generous. Generous enough to hand your own husband over to someone else.”

“Well, that puts my mind at ease. I was worried you'd fall apart over me walking out. Maybe do something drastic.”

“Looks like you're doing just fine.”

“Oh, and if you've got nothing better to do, you're welcome to come down to the riverside for our mock ceremony. It's not real, obviously, but hey, it's still an experience.”

Stephen's gaze turned indulgent as he ruffled Rebecca's hair.

“Rebecca says her one regret is that you're not here. She'd be thrilled if you came.”

“I'll have to pass. I've still got a wedding to get to.”

I spoke first. “If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up.”

And I did.

Then I gathered my skirt and walked through the ballroom, heading for the doors to see if he had arrived.

The red carpet to the entrance was long.

When we'd planned it, the hotel manager said the carpet measured eighty-eight feet, one for each blessing. The grandest possible aisle for a wedding.

Now every one of those eighty-eight feet landed on someone else's laughter.

The whispers around me sharpened, cutting deeper.

“Where's she going? Don't tell me she's actually heading to the riverside to find her husband.”

“Let her go. She'll only humiliate herself more. That little secretary is wrapped up in Mr. Sanchez's arms right now.”

“I heard he chartered an entire cruise ship for the mock wedding just to make the secretary happy. Fifty million. Fifty million.”

“Meanwhile the bride's side looks pathetic. The contrast is brutal……”

Halfway down the carpet.

The ballroom doors swung open from the outside.

I looked up, startled.

Light poured in from beyond the threshold.

Backlit against it, a tall figure stepped through, shoulders perfectly squared, stride unhurried.