Jilted Bride, Shattered Illusion

Jilted Bride, Shattered Illusion

Gavin

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For four years, I sponsored an artist from Queens, Demetrius Rogers. I paid his mother's medical bills, sent his sister to prep school, and funded his entire career, turning him from a nobody into a star. I did it all because he was the spitting image of my dead fiancé. Tomorrow was our wedding. But tonight, standing outside his family's home, I overheard the truth. He was plotting with his high school girlfriend, Cayla, to leave me at the altar. He never loved me; it was all for the money. His mother, whose life I saved, called me arrogant and said I looked down on them. His sister, whose future I paid for, said she only ever wanted Cayla as her sister-in-law. Cayla demanded that he not only leave me, but publicly humiliate me in front of everyone. And Demetrius, the man whose world I had built from nothing, agreed. I had tried to buy a substitute for a dead man, and this was the price. They thought I was a fool to be used and discarded. But they were wrong. The next morning, I recorded a video. "Demetrius," I said to the camera, "I know your plan to leave me at the altar. I'm saving you the trouble. I'm leaving you first." I sent the video to be played at the church just as the ceremony was to begin, then boarded a one-way flight to London.

Chapter 1

For four years, I sponsored an artist from Queens, Demetrius Rogers. I paid his mother's medical bills, sent his sister to prep school, and funded his entire career, turning him from a nobody into a star. I did it all because he was the spitting image of my dead fiancé.

Tomorrow was our wedding. But tonight, standing outside his family's home, I overheard the truth. He was plotting with his high school girlfriend, Cayla, to leave me at the altar. He never loved me; it was all for the money.

His mother, whose life I saved, called me arrogant and said I looked down on them.

His sister, whose future I paid for, said she only ever wanted Cayla as her sister-in-law.

Cayla demanded that he not only leave me, but publicly humiliate me in front of everyone.

And Demetrius, the man whose world I had built from nothing, agreed.

I had tried to buy a substitute for a dead man, and this was the price. They thought I was a fool to be used and discarded.

But they were wrong. The next morning, I recorded a video. "Demetrius," I said to the camera, "I know your plan to leave me at the altar. I'm saving you the trouble. I'm leaving you first."

I sent the video to be played at the church just as the ceremony was to begin, then boarded a one-way flight to London.

Chapter 1

For four years, Julianne Lancaster had paid for everything. She sponsored Demetrius Rogers, a talented artist she pulled from poverty in Queens. She transformed him from a nobody into a rising star in the New York art world.

His mother, Inger, no longer had medical debt. Julianne had paid it all.

His sister, Kyleigh, attended a prestigious prep school. Julianne paid the tuition.

Every canvas, every brush, every exhibition was funded by Julianne's limitless bank account. She did it all for one reason: Demetrius was the spitting image of her dead fiancé, Craig Key.

Tomorrow was their wedding. The invitations were sent, the venue was booked, and the press was ready to capture the union of a tech heiress and her artist protégé.

Julianne was on her way to Demetrius's family home in Queens to deliver a custom-made gown for his mother. She wanted everything to be perfect. As she approached the small house, she heard voices from the slightly open window.

She stopped, recognizing the sharp, possessive tone of Cayla Hurst, Demetrius' s high school girlfriend.

"You can't really be thinking of marrying her, Demetrius! What about us?"

Julianne froze. She moved closer to the window, her heart starting to pound in a slow, heavy rhythm.

"What about the promises you made me?" Cayla' s voice was a high-pitched whine. "You said you loved me. You said you were only with her for the money."

"He was," Inger, Demetrius's mother, chimed in. Her voice was coarse. "That woman, Julianne, she' s so arrogant. She' s never been one of us. She looks down on us."

"Mom's right," Kyleigh added. "Cayla, we've always seen you as our sister-in-law. You belong with Demetrius."

Julianne felt a cold numbness spread through her limbs. She had paid for Inger's life-saving surgery. She had given Kyleigh an education she could only have dreamed of.

Then came the sound of a slap. A sharp, stinging sound.

"Stop it, Cayla!" Demetrius's voice was strained.

"You're hitting me now? For her?" Cayla shrieked. "If you marry her tomorrow, I'll kill myself! I' ll do it right in front of the church, I swear!"

"Cayla, don't say that!" Inger sounded panicked. "Demetrius, you can't let her do that! Our families have known each other for years. We can't let her come to harm."

Demetrius was silent for a long moment. Julianne held her breath, waiting for him to defend her, to tell them they were wrong.

Instead, when he spoke, his voice was low and resigned. "I won't marry her."

The world seemed to tilt. Julianne leaned against the cold brick of the house, her illusion shattering into a million pieces.

Cayla's crying immediately stopped. Her voice turned sharp and victorious. "Just not marrying her isn't enough. You have to humiliate her. Leave her at the altar. Let everyone see the rich Miss Lancaster get dumped. That's what she deserves for trying to control you."

"Yes! That' s a great idea," Kyleigh said eagerly. "Show her that you can't be bought."

Demetrius didn't answer right away. The silence stretched on, thick with betrayal.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Fine."

Julianne felt nothing. The pain was so immense it was just a void. She was a silent observer to the dismantling of her own life.

She turned away from the window, her movements quiet and precise. The gown in her hands felt heavy and ridiculous. She walked back to her car, her back straight, her expression a perfect, emotionless mask.

Inside the car, she didn't cry. She simply pulled out her phone and dialed her mother.

"Mom," she said, her voice steady.

"Julianne, darling! Are you excited for tomorrow?"

"Cancel the wedding."

There was a stunned silence on the other end. "What? What happened?"

"I'll explain later. Just cancel everything."

"Julianne," her mother's voice was laced with concern. "You sound... just like you did when Craig..."

The name felt like a physical blow. Craig. Her Craig.

Julianne closed her eyes, and the memory she had suppressed for four years flooded back.

She and Craig Key were inseparable since childhood. He was a brilliant musician, kind and gentle, and he was her soulmate. They were supposed to get married. But a week before their wedding, he was killed in a car accident caused by a drunk driver.

Her world had ended. She had locked herself away, lost in a grief so profound she thought she would never recover. She spent months, years, looking for him in every face in the crowd.

And then, at a student art show at a small gallery, she saw him.

It was Demetrius Rogers. He had the same dark hair, the same jawline, the same deep-set eyes as Craig. The resemblance was uncanny. He was a poor, struggling art student. She saw her chance.

She approached him, offered him patronage. It was a transaction. She would give him and his family everything they ever wanted. In return, he would be hers. He would fill the void Craig had left.

She knew it was a lie. She knew a substitute could never replace the real thing. But for four years, she had clung to the illusion. She had told herself she could buy happiness, that she could control her world and keep the ghost of her love alive.

Now, hearing his betrayal, she was finally, brutally awake.

The illusion was gone. A substitute was just a substitute. And a fake could never become real.

"I' m tired, Mom," Julianne's voice was hoarse, a crack in her perfect composure. "I'm coming to London."

She ended the call, her decision made. She looked at the house in her rearview mirror one last time. There was nothing left for her there.

She drove away without a backward glance.

Back in her penthouse, she methodically began to untangle her life from his. She called her realtor and listed the apartment for sale. She called her lawyer and instructed him to sever all financial ties to the Rogers family.

Later that night, Demetrius arrived. He was expecting a fight, or tears. He found Julianne calmly sipping a glass of wine, the half-packed boxes around her the only sign of any disturbance.

"Julianne? What's going on?" he asked, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. He still didn't know that she knew.

"The wedding is off, Demetrius," she said simply, her voice devoid of emotion.

He looked at her, searching for the right words, the right angle. He didn't know what game she was playing.

"You heard about what happened at my mother's house, didn't you?"

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