*Chapter 1: The Empty Altar**

“Why isn't he here yet?”

The clock on the church wall showed twenty minutes past eleven.

The ceremony was supposed to start at eleven sharp.

Hannah Brooks stood in the preparation room, her white dress feeling increasingly tight against her chest.

She stared at her phone screen. Her eighteenth call to Ethan. The ringback tone sounded, sounded again, and then stopped.

*‘The number you are calling is currently unavailable.’*

"Try again," she whispered to herself.

Her fingers trembled as she pressed the name once more. It was the same result. The flat voice of the automated operator answered her again.

"Hannah." Her cousin, Mia, peeked through the crack of the door. Her face was pale. "The pastor is asking if we should keep waiting."

"Ethan must be caught in traffic," Hannah said quickly, deflecting the worst-case scenario. "Last night he said he would leave early in the morning."

Mia didn't answer. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

Hannah knew the meaning of that silence. She just didn't want to admit it yet.

"I'm stepping outside for a moment," Hannah said, remaining calm even though her chest was in turmoil.

She walked down the narrow hallway toward the side door. Her dress brushed against the marble floor. The cold morning air slapped her face the moment the door opened.

Hannah looked for another number on her phone. Ethan's mother. Ethan's close friend. His brother. No one picked up.

Why?

Anxiety wrapped around Hannah even tightly. She bit her lower lip hard.

Then her phone vibrated.

It wasn't from Ethan. The name appearing on the screen was: Saint Mary's Hospital.

Hannah held her breath. She answered in a voice that was barely audible. "Hello?"

"Miss Brooks? This is Nurse Claire from the cardiology ward." Her voice was calm, but overly cautious. "Your mother keeps asking about your wedding. She has been waiting since this morning."

"How is her condition?" Hannah asked, filled with hesitation.

"Her blood pressure spiked earlier. We gave her medication, but she is very restless." The nurse paused for a moment. "The doctor advised that she shouldn't experience any shock or emotional stress. Her heart isn't strong enough yet."

Hannah closed her eyes. She could picture her mother's face right now.

Eleanor Brooks, lying in a hospital bed with an IV tube in her arm, smiling every time someone mentioned the word ‘wedding’.

For the past three months, that was the only thing keeping her mother holding on through her treatments.

"I will call back again soon," Hannah said reassuringly, or perhaps more to calm herself. "Please tell Mom that everything is going smoothly."

"Very well, Miss."

The call disconnected.

Hannah stared at her phone. A new message appeared on her screen.

From Ethan.

Her heart leaped. She opened it with trembling hands.

[*I'm sorry, Han. I can't do this. I'm leaving with Chloe. I know I'm a coward, but it's better that you know now than later.*]

That was all.

Hannah read the sentence once. Twice. Three times. The words made no sense.

Chloe? The ex whom Ethan said was long gone? The one who supposedly lived in another city?

Her knees gave way. She leaned against the stone wall of the church and slowly slid down.

No. Why would Ethan do this? He had promised—to her, to her mother.

But now? How could he be cruel enough to do this?

Hannah shook her head slowly, her eyes burning red and hot.

If she walked out and announced that the wedding was canceled, the news would reach the hospital before the evening. Neighbors, coworkers, any of the guests—anyone could call Eleanor. And her mother's heart…

She didn't want to think about what would happen next.

"Hannah."

Mia was already standing at the threshold. Her eyes were red. "People are starting to ask questions. We have to say something."

"Give me ten minutes." Hannah closed her eyes, trying to soothe the turmoil in her chest.

"Han…"

"Ten minutes, Mia." Hannah's voice carried firm emphasis this time.

Mia nodded and left.

Hannah stood up. She straightened her dress with hands that refused to stop shaking. There was no plan. There was no way out. There was only one necessity: to walk to the altar and face everyone.

She stepped into the church sanctuary.

The whispers stopped instantly. Dozens of heads turned. On the front pews, a few colleagues lowered their heads to avoid her gaze.

Hannah walked down the center aisle, slowly, with her back straight—just as she had done over the past five years whenever facing the most difficult meetings.

Reaching the front of the altar, she turned around.

"Thank you all for coming," Hannah said. Her voice nearly broke. "I…"

She couldn't continue.

The pastor looked at her with pity. No one dared to speak.

Then came the sound of a pew shifting.

The steady footsteps of leather shoes. One, two, three.

Hannah raised her head.

Lucas Ashford was walking down the center aisle. His black suit was immaculate, his shirt unwrinkled, his face calm—just as he looked whenever he stepped into the board of directors meeting.

Lucas Ashford, Hannah's boss. The CEO of Ashford Group. The man whom Hannah had accompanied every single day for five years, and whom she had never once seen lose control.

Lucas stepped up to the altar and stood beside her.

"This wedding will still take place," Lucas said.

His voice was not loud, yet it filled the entire church.

Hannah turned to him in shock. "Mr. Lucas?"

Lucas didn't look at her. He looked at the guests. "I will be the one marrying Hannah Brooks."

The church suddenly fell completely silent.

Hannah stared at the man beside her with wide eyes. What was he saying? Was he crazy?

"Excuse us," Hannah said quickly to the pastor, "we need a moment."

Hannah grabbed the sleeve of Lucas's suit jacket and pulled him to the side, into a small room behind the altar.

Lucas did not resist, following Hannah's steps with his gaze fixed on the panicked face of the secretary who had worked for him for five years.

The wooden door closed behind them. Inside, there was only the two of them and the scent of candle wax.

"What are you doing?" Hannah whispered. Her voice trembled, suppressing anger and embarrassment. "That is not a funny joke."

"I am not joking." Lucas's tone was so convincing, with a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

Hannah's eyes widened further. "Then you're insane."

Lucas looked at her calmly. His dark eyes showed not a single trace of hesitation. "Your fiancé didn't show up. You don't have time to think of another way out."

"What do you know about—" Hannah paused, her brow furrowing. "How do you know?"

“No bride wants to be late on her wedding day. And your fiancé clearly isn't coming, Hannah.” Lucas spoke very calmly, almost too calmly. “I am your second choice, Hannah. Surely, you don't want to humiliate yourself, do you?”

Hannah winced, shaking her head quickly. "Absolutely not. I am not marrying you."

One corner of Lucas's eyebrow arched upward. "Why?"

"Why?" Hannah let out a short, bitter laugh. "I have been your secretary for five years. I know exactly who you are and what you're like."

She tallied it up without even having to think. Every Monday morning, there was a new woman waiting in the lobby with the same smile. Every Friday afternoon, she was the one booking restaurants and hotel rooms for her boss. Once, she had canceled three dinner dates in a single week because Lucas was busy with three different women. She had witnessed far too many diamond bracelets bought and forgotten, and names that changed before she even had a chance to memorize them.

If not for her need for a high salary, Hannah would have resigned as Lucas's secretary years ago.

"You don't believe in marriage," Hannah continued. "You always say so yourself. Women come, women go. You never stay for more than a month. Let alone marriage. So, you had better stop joking." Hannah stood firm in her refusal.

"That's true." Lucas slipped one hand into his trousers pocket. He didn't deny it, because Hannah knew about him far better than any of the women he had dated.

Hannah's brow furrowed deeply at the calmness on Lucas's face. "Then why do you want to marry me?"

Lucas was silent for a moment. Something flickered across his face, too fast to read. "Because you need someone standing up there. And I am the only one willing."

"That's not a reason," Hannah snapped quickly.

"It's the only reason you need right now."

Hannah took a step back. She stared at Lucas, searching for any sign that this was just a game. There was none. Only a composure that made her even more suspicious.

"I don't want to be one of your women," Hannah said, turning her face away.

"You won't be one of them."

Hannah looked back at Lucas sharply upon hearing his words. "That's what they always hear, isn't it?"

Lucas's jaw tightened. But he didn't retaliate. He simply looked at Hannah longer than usual.

"Your mother," Lucas said softly. Clearly, he knew about Hannah's mother's condition.

Hannah froze. "What?"

"Your mother is in the hospital. Her heart." Lucas mentioned it without pity, but without cruelty either. "If this wedding is canceled and the news reaches her, what will happen?"

Hannah opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Lucas continued, his voice low and steady. "I know you've already thought about that. I know that's why you haven't walked out and dismissed everyone yet."

Hannah's eyes began to sting. She looked down and bit her lip.

Lucas bent down slightly, bringing his face closer to Hannah's, and spoke again.

"I will cover all of your mother's medical expenses," Lucas said. "The best hospital, the best doctors. Surgery if necessary. You won't have to think about money at all."

Hannah's eyes turned red, holding back the pride that felt as though it were being trampled on by the boss she had followed for five years. A boss who knew she couldn't be bought with money. "I don't want to be bought."

"This isn't buying. It's a deal." Lucas straightened his back.

The word hung between them.

"A deal," Hannah repeated bitterly.

"You need a marriage today. I need a wife. Both can be resolved at once. Look at it that way." Lucas looked straight at her. "Nothing more."

Hannah wanted to refuse. Her entire self resisted. She didn't understand why Lucas was offering this, and she didn't trust a man who treated women like disposable objects. But the phone in her grasp vibrated again.

Saint Mary's Hospital.

She stared at the name. Her hands grew cold.

She pictured Eleanor in that bed, waiting, smiling, believing that her daughter was stepping into happiness. She imagined the heart monitor beeping faster and her mother's hands clutching the bedsheets in pain if she found out the wedding was canceled.

If anything happened to her mother…

Hannah took a deep breath. Her chest ached.

"Just a deal," Hannah said, barely audible.

One corner of Lucas's lips curled upward at her words. "Yes."

"Nothing else," Hannah made sure. She didn't want to get trapped in a deeper relationship with this playboy.

Lucas looked at her for a second longer. "Nothing else."

Hannah nodded slowly. A single tear she had been holding back finally fell, and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"Fine," Hannah said with sheer reluctance. "I accept."

Lucas extended his hand. The moment Hannah grasped his palm, both corners of Lucas's lips stretched into a broad smile.

And Hannah—she closed her eyes. Her prayer to stay far away from men like Lucas had instead brought her into a marriage with him.

The church aisle felt much longer than when Hannah had first walked down it.

Now, Hannah was walking beside Lucas. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. She could feel the stares clinging to her skin, her shoulders, and the white dress that suddenly felt like a costume.

*‘Don't look down. Don't cry.’* Hannah repeated the words over and over in her head.

They stopped in front of the pastor. The old man looked at Lucas, then at Hannah, and back to Lucas again. His brow furrowed.

"Are you sure?" the pastor asked softly.

"Yes," Lucas replied, his expression showing not a shadow of doubt.

Hannah did not answer. Her throat suddenly tightened, and her tongue grew completely numb.

The pastor cleared his throat, opened the book, and began to speak. The words flowed, but Hannah didn't catch a single one. All she could hear was her own heartbeat—loud and fast, like someone was pounding against her chest from the inside.

*This was supposed to be Ethan.*

The thought surfaced uninvited. It was supposed to be Ethan standing here, with his nervous smile and his perpetually crooked tie. Ethan, who had said he would weep with emotion the moment Hannah appeared at the end of the aisle.

But in reality?

A sharp pang went through Hannah's chest.

She shifted her gaze and stared at the floor. The black leather shoes beside her were polished to perfection. The shoes whose care she ordered every single month. The shoes she had only ever seen from behind a desk for five years.

Now those shoes were right beside her.

"Hannah Brooks."

Her name sounded as if it were coming from far away.

"Hannah," the pastor repeated, gentler this time.

Hannah raised her head. Everyone was waiting for her.

"Do you take this man to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health..."

*In sickness.*

The word pierced her. Hannah thought of her mother, and her hand clenched behind her bouquet of flowers.

"I do," Hannah said, her voice trembling slightly. She hated this forced reality.

The pastor turned to Lucas. The same question was asked.

Lucas didn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second. "I do."

Too fast. Too easy.

Hannah glanced at Lucas's face out of the corner of her eye. His jaw was sharp, his expression neutral. There was no smile. Yet there was something at the edge of his eyes that Hannah couldn't quite read—like a man holding his breath.

*‘What are you hiding?’* She didn't voice the question. It remained locked in her head.

"You may now exchange rings."

Hannah startled. She had forgotten. Her wedding ring was in the pocket of Ethan's suit jacket.

Her hands turned instantly cold.

Lucas reached into his suit jacket pocket.

Hannah assumed he was going to ask someone to fetch replacement rings for them. But Lucas pulled out a small velvet box, flipped it open with one hand, and revealed a pair of plain bands inside.

Hannah stared at the items without blinking.

"Where..." Hannah's voice was low. "Where did those come from?" she asked, barely audible.

"I always keep one on me," Lucas said flatly. "A gift for women who need a little solace."

Hannah looked at him with sheer disgust.

The corner of Lucas's lips twitched slightly. "Just a joke."

"Not funny," Hannah muttered.

"I know." Lucas was far too casual for an event as momentous as a wedding.

Lucas took Hannah's left hand. His fingers were warm—far too warm compared to Hannah's freezing hands.

The ring slid onto her finger. A perfect fit. Almost too perfect.

Hannah looked at the ring on her finger, then at Lucas's hand still holding hers. She pulled her hand back gently from his grip.

Hannah picked up the other ring and slid it onto Lucas's finger. Her hands were shaking so much that the ring nearly dropped.

"Slow down," Lucas whispered.

"Don't say too much, sir." Hannah was nervous, wanting to snap at him, but the man in front of her was the boss keeping her and her mother alive.

"I was just saying." One corner of Lucas's mouth curled up slowly, enjoying the nervousness Hannah was experiencing.

"Don't say anything." Hannah's voice was faint.

Lucas remained silent.

The ring was finally on. Hannah immediately released his hand.

"By the power vested in me," the pastor said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The applause sounded awkward. One or two people clapped, then stopped. There were no cheers. No smiles. Only the whispers rising back up.

"You may now kiss the bride."