Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

Billionaires Revenge Kickass Heroine Revenge Female-centered Ex-wife

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Sienna Point Of View

"Sienna, you need to come here fast, as our CEO is on his way here." I received a call from my team head making me run through the crowded footpaths of New York city.

People are always busy here. The city is lively with people buzzing around at the daytime and it is lit with many lights, like stars have graced their beauty on earth, at the night time. I love staying in this city in-spite of the problems and scary nightmares I am going through.

I hurried towards the road waited for walk signal to cross the road. I should be in the office by now and it takes ten minutes walk from here.

Wish CEO Sir doesn't arrive so quickly.

Just as I saw the walk signal on traffic lights, I started crossing road but stopped suddenly looking at a shiny luxurious SUV standing there in traffic.

I walked towards the car and knocked at the driver window. He rolled down the black-tinted window and narrowed his eyes towards me eyeing me up and down.

"You need to off the engine while in traffic or the car is at a stop sir. We cannot deprive our future generations with gas/petrol/diesel right? Please do off the engine next time sir. It also prevents some of the pollution too." I said in a small tone not wanting to offend him or the owner who is sitting at the backseat.

I leaned back after telling him what I wanted to and looked half open window of the backseat of the car. I went towards the owner to tell my apologies for wasting their time, when I saw those eyes.

Those deep sea blue eyes which are like crystals shining at every flicker of light! They are a very interesting and unique color that I found myself looking at them interestingly.

I could only see his eyes from the little opening of the window but I can tell he must be looking like a beauty God. His eyes gave away that much that he might be in his late twenties I assume looking at his young, clear eyes narrowed towards me with rage.

I know that look and I learned few of them all these four years from the place I'm currently staying.

When someone, who thinks they are as mighty as God, gives that look it means he is not a fan of taking good advices from people who they think are nothing but beggars before them.

I agree that look did shake my legs with fear but I'm still glad that I could mutter up the courage to give a little advice and I don't regret it.

He squinted on his eyes towards me and I know he must be gritting his teeth preventing himself from lashing on me in the public face.

I bowed my head in fear and scurried away before I let him hurt me.

Why do I do such things? I know I need to maintain a low profile because I have so much to loose. I have too many secret to risk. But still I cannot keep my nature-related opinions to myself.

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