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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Liam Hoffman walked to the front desk of Sunrise Decoration Corp. in Ninverton with a paper bag in his hand.

Inside the paper bag was a cup of coffee, and he was very careful not to spill it.

"This is the coffee ordered by Mr. Dennis Caldwell. Where should I deliver it?" He said to the receptionist.

The receptionist looked Liam up and down and said disgustedly, "Follow me."

Liam was actually an Uber driver. But today, he unexpectedly received a delivery order with generous pay. It was two hundred dollars, so he accepted the job.

He followed the receptionist until they reached the door of an office.

As soon as Liam put his hand on the doorknob, he suddenly heard a woman's groan from inside.

The voice sounded very familiar to him. It was much like his wife's.

He couldn't believe his ears. He must have heard it wrong.

Liam tried to convince himself he was wrong. But he still couldn't help getting closer, so he could hear it more clearly.

"Ahhh... Dennis, don't do that..."

"Come on, let me kiss you. Anyway, your good-for-nothing husband has never kissed you, right?"

When Liam heard the conversation inside the office, he was stunned.

When he came back to his senses, he knocked hard on the door and shouted, "Open the door! Open it now!"

The receptionist asked anxiously, "Hey, what is wrong with you?"

The door was suddenly opened with a loud bang.

Then a strange man appeared in front of Liam.

Liam's attention was immediately caught by the lipstick marks on the man's right cheek.

He threw the paper bag away, pushed the man away, and looked into the office.

Then he saw a woman with smooth skin and a curvaceous figure, wearing black silk stockings. Flustered, she was buttoning her shirt in a hurry.

"Yolanda!" Liam roared in rage.

It turned out that he was right. The flustered woman inside the office was really his wife.

He felt like a giant boulder was pressing his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

Liam glared at Yolanda Lambert and said angrily, "Yolanda, we have been married for three years. And during these years, I have worked as an Uber driver by day and taken care of your family by night. I've been a good husband to you. But in the past three years, you have never allowed me to touch you. Despite that, I didn't think badly of you. I told myself you were only a reserved woman. But what is this? How dare you cheat on me with this man in his office! Why did you do this to me? What have I done wrong?"

"Honey... W-what are you doing here?" Yolanda said after finally buttoning up her shirt, covering her exposed cleavage.

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