"Julian, the ceremony is starting! You can't leave now."

Evelyn clutched Julian Blackwood's arm, her pristine white gown rustling. Panic tightened her throat, making her voice tremble.

This was supposed to be their wedding day.

But moments before they were to exchange vows, Julian's phone had buzzed. He read the message, turned to the assembled guests, and coldly announced the wedding was off.

His brow was furrowed, his voice strained. "Get out of my way. Isabella is hurt. She's alone at the hospital and scared. I need to go to her."

Evelyn's face went pale.

Isabella Rossi was Julian's childhood friend.

Evelyn had been with Julian for five years. In all that time, if Isabella needed anything, Julian would immediately abandon Evelyn. He always said Isabella was like a sister, and he always told Evelyn to be understanding.

And she had been. Every single time.

But this was their wedding.

So what if Isabella needed him? Did that mean the bride had to be left at the altar?

Her whisper was shaky. "No, you can't. The wedding can't proceed without you. You have to stay. Please, Julian... I'm begging you."

His patience vanished. "That's enough! Stop being so selfish and unreasonable. We can have the wedding another day. But right now, Isabella is injured. If I'm not there, can you take responsibility? Move!"

He shoved past her before she could respond.

Evelyn stumbled. Her high heels slipped on the polished floor, and she fell hard. Sitting on the cold ground, breathless, she watched Julian stride out the door. He never once looked back.

Her phone rang.

She answered instinctively. A woman's smug, victorious voice filled her ear.

"Evelyn, today's the big day with Julian, isn't it? Did you like my little present?"

Evelyn froze, then recognition dawned. She spat the name through clenched teeth. "Isabella... You did this on purpose. You lured him away."

"Correct. And what will you do about it? I just wanted to remind you—I will always come first in Julian's heart." Isabella's tone oozed arrogance, each word dripping with mockery. "You probably planned this wedding for months. What a pity... all that effort, wasted. I almost feel sorry for you."

Evelyn stared at the pure white fabric of her dress. For the first time, she saw the last five years clearly. They were a joke.

As an orphan, she had desperately wanted a family, a love of her own.

But Julian... he was never going to give that to her.

It was time to stop begging for something that would never be hers.

A cold, sharp laugh escaped her. "Don't celebrate too soon, Isabella. The wedding is still happening."

Isabella's voice turned sour. "Are you crazy? The groom is gone. How do you plan to have a wedding without him?"

A slow, mocking smile curved Evelyn's lips.

Who said her groom had to be Julian?

If he could leave so easily, then she would find someone else. Someone worthy of standing beside her.

Her voice became sharp and decisive. "Do me a favor, Isabella. Give Julian a message. Tell him I don't want him anymore. He's not worth another second of my time. Since you're so desperate to have him, he's all yours. A spineless man and a shameless woman—a perfect match. Good luck."

Isabella's voice sharpened with rage. "Evelyn, I'm warning you—"

Evelyn ended the call.

The wedding was in thirty minutes. She needed a new groom. Fast.

Gathering her dress, she hurried outside. The entrance was swarming with men in black suits. Their imposing presence was unmistakable as they combed the area, searching for something.

In the center sat a man in a groom's suit, positioned in a wheelchair. He was utterly still, yet he radiated an aura of icy authority.

His voice was a commanding baritone. "The ceremony is beginning. Have you found Sophia Delaney?"

The bodyguard before him looked tense. "Mr. Blackwood, we've searched everywhere. There's no sign of Ms. Delaney. It appears she has fled..."

"Fled?" The man's voice was deceptively even, but his gaze turned razor-sharp and cold. "If this wedding does not proceed on schedule, you understand the consequences."

Evelyn heard every word. Instantly, she understood. This man had been left at the altar, just like her.

Without a second thought, she gripped her dress and walked straight toward him.

The bodyguards moved instantly, blocking her path with stern expressions.

"Ma'am, what is your intention?"

The man in the wheelchair turned his attention to her. His presence felt like an approaching storm.

Evelyn didn't flinch. She met his gaze directly, her voice steady.

"Sir, I understand your bride has run away. If that's the case, let me take her place. I will be your bride."