That her fiancé had run because of her curves.
Whispers surrounded her.
Pity. Judgment. Shame.
Then his father stepped into the groom’s place.
A man nearly twice her age.
A man who should have been horrified.
Instead, he looked at her like she was the only woman in the room.
And when she fainted...
He caught her.
Held her.
Protected her.
So when her family demanded someone marry her TODAY…
And he whispered that he wanted to help but shouldn’t…
She looked into the eyes of the man who made her feel seen
and begged him to make her his bride.
Prologue
Elena
Each step down the aisle sounds like a gunshot in the cathedral silence.
There’s no music, no swarm of bridesmaids or groomsmen grinning across the room from the steps of the pulpit.
Just whispers.
Around me like shards of glass, sharp and cutting and impossible to ignore.
Where is he?
The walkway’s adorned with white roses spilling from tall silver urns lining the end of each pew, candles burning along the edges of the room beneath the stained glass.
Every detailright.
Except for the empty space where George Highcourt should be standing.
There’s no slicked-back sandy hair. No perfectly tailored suit hugging his six-foot frame. No bored, blue eyes flicking toward his phone when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
My fiancé since I was sixteen.
Arranged as a goddamn transaction.
He should be standing at the end of the aisle.
But there’s no one.
