The engagement party ended not with vows, but with vicious laughter echoing through Manhattan's elite circles.
Every guest left with a smirk, as if they'd just witnessed the juiciest soap opera of the decade--starring none other than the Martin family.
For a full week, tabloids feasted on the scandal.
US Weekly's headline screamed, "SWAPPED AT THE ALTAR, Inside Cecilia Martin's Revenge Wedding!" while Page Six dissected every humiliating detail--from Ronald' abrupt departure to the very compromising photos of him and Gia leaked to TMZ.
It was the kind of drama even Hollywood couldn't script.
Smack--
With a face full of fury, Edward tore the newspaper in half. Across from him, Margaret stayed silent.
The fallout had been brutal. MT Group's stocks plummeted, board members were livid, and the media?
Oh, they were just getting started.
"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?" Edward growled.
"She hasn't come back since the party," Margaret replied calmly.
A muscle twitched in Edward's jaw. "Freeze all her credit cards. Strip her of every title in the company. And I want the cars, the apartments, EVERYTHING BLOCK!" His smile was venomous."LET HER LEARNS WHAT IT MEANS TO DEFY HER FATHER!"
Margaret didn't argue. She simply texted the order to the family's lawyer, her expression the picture of poised regret.
To her, the downfall of the spoiled princess was a long-awaited pleasure.
Outsiders still saw her as a refined, gracious stepmother.
But behind those perfectly manicured hands?
She was already celebrating.
***
Three days.
Cecilia had been holed up in her apartment for three days.
She wasn't surprised--she always knew the day would come when defying her father meant losing everything.
Which was why, a year ago, she'd bought this place--cash, under a shell company.
Cecilia Martin might be called many things--ruthless, petty, vindictive, arrogant--but unprepared?
Never.
The moment her mother died, the instant her father seized control and her stepmother crossed the threshold--that was when she'd begun weaving the web for this very day.
Knock-knock-knock--
The door creaked as someone knocked. Cecilia jolted upright.
Right! Her 'fiancé'.
She groaned, dragging herself upright just as the door swung open.
"I'm starving," a familiar voice said bluntly.
The thick, stale air inside made him step back slightly, as if surprised a human could survive in this dungeon-like atmosphere.
"There's Frozen Pizza, Sandwiches, Popcorn. Take your pick," Cecilia mumbled, pulling the blanket over her head like a retreating soldier.
He strode forward and yanked the blanket off her. His expression was flat. "I never eat microwave food."
"Then make me one. Thanks."
Liam said nothing. Instead, he walked to the window and yanked the heavy curtains wide open.
Sunlight exploded into the room.
Cecilia hissed, throwing an arm over her eyes. "What are you doing?"
Then she blinked--They made eye contact and she froze.. For the first time, she truly looked at the stranger she'd impulsively declared as her fiancé.
Backlit by golden morning light, Liam was...unfair. All sharp angles and lazy grace, one shoulder propped against the wall.
But it was his eyes that pinned her--dark, amused, knowing.
Her throat went dry.
Damn him.
Cecilia shrank back, caught off guard, trying to escape his ridiculous flirtatious energy.
"We need to talk," she muttered, coughing awkwardly.
Liam didn't budge. Instead, he settled onto the edge of the bed, his gaze locked onto hers with unnerving amusement.
"This is my apartment," she said pointedly.
"I'm not after your assets."
"I meant--you can leave now."
"We're engaged," he stated plainly.
"It was just a show!" Cecilia scoffed.
A beat of silence.
Then--like a switch flipping--the warmth in Liam's eyes vanished. His jaw tightened, the shift so sudden it prickled the air between them.
"You're saying you're backing out?"
Oh shit!
This wasn't some luxury penthouse.
The apartment had bargain-bin insulation, a security system that'd lose to a determined raccoon, and neighbors who'd probably mistake her corpse smell for expired takeout.
If this man decided to snap and rape her to death tonight?
She could already write the headline, "Socialite, Cecilia Martin, Vanishes in Shithole Apartment--Police Assume Drug Overdose."
She suddenly felt a little nervous.
"Scared?" Liam's smile returned, all charm--but his eyes stayed cold.
"I'm just being honest," she snapped. "The engagement was for show. The scene's over."
"Not quite." He rose to his full height, looming over her with dangerous amusement still dancing in his gaze. "There's still Act Two."
"...What?"
Liam pulled out his phone, flipped open his calendar with deliberate slowness, and tapped a highlighted entry.
"My wedding's today." A beat. "And I'm missing a bride."
"..."