Married by mistake to the billionaire

Rain.

Of course it had to rain.

Because nothing said "perfect day" like mascara-proof tears and designer shoes drowning in puddles.

Talia Monroe stood at the altar, heart pounding, surrounded by two hundred witnesses who were pretending not to stare. The cathedral smelled like roses, nerves, and regret.

Every seat was filled. Every head turned toward the entrance. But no one was walking down the aisle.

Not her groom. Not her dream. Just silence.

And somewhere behind her, someone whispered, "Poor thing."

She clenched her bouquet tighter, the white lilies bruising under her fingers. Her subconscious, that ever-loyal troublemaker, sighed inside her head.

Well, congratulations, Talia. You just became today's headline: The Bride Who Got Ghosted.

Ten minutes ago, the best man had called from an unknown number.

"He's not ready," he'd said, voice breaking.

Then nothing. No explanation. No apology. Just the kind of silence that ends things.

Now here she was - drenched in heartbreak and lace - while two hundred people judged her life choices in high definition.

Maya, her best friend and designated sanity keeper, was the only person still breathing normally. She stomped down the aisle, her hot-pink heels clicking like gunfire.

"Talia, babe, tell me you didn't just let that idiot run."

Talia's throat was too tight to answer.

"Oh no," Maya continued, eyes flashing like storm clouds. "If he thinks he can humiliate you like this, I swear to God-"

"Maya." Talia forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's fine."

"It's not fine!" Maya hissed, hands on hips. "You look like a goddess, this church costs more than my apartment, and that spineless fool just vanished? Oh, he's going viral for the wrong reasons."

A camera flashed somewhere. The whispering grew louder.

Talia exhaled, shaking. "Don't, Maya. I can't handle drama right now."

"Too late," Maya muttered. "Drama found you."

Across the city, another wedding was burning.

Adrian Voss didn't believe in emotions.

He believed in precision, control, and never letting anyone see him bleed.

Yet here he was - tuxedo immaculate, jaw locked - watching his fiancée kiss his business partner in front of two hundred people.

For a man known for his composure, the sight was a new kind of violence.

He didn't shout. Didn't move. Just stood there, eyes dark, watching betrayal play out like a movie he hadn't paid to see.

His mother gasped. Reporters whispered. The air buzzed with disbelief.

"Adrian, please!" Vanessa cried, chasing him down the marble hall as guests murmured. "It's not what it looked like!"

He turned, voice low, deadly calm.

"Don't insult my intelligence."

The words cut sharper than any scream.

His assistant hovered near the door, pale. "Sir, the press-"

"I'll handle it," Adrian interrupted, voice like steel wrapped in silk. "Get rid of them."

He walked into his office adjoining the event hall, loosened his cufflinks, and poured whiskey like he was disinfecting a wound.

You can't afford scandal, his mind whispered. Not now. Not ever.

And that's when his assistant, nervous as a church mouse, said, "Sir... there's another wedding across the hall. The bride was abandoned too. She's... quite a scene."

Adrian looked up slowly. "A bride?"

"Yes, sir. The groom didn't show. She's still there. Alone."

He said nothing for a long time. Then, with chilling calm, "Bring her to me."

The assistant blinked. "Sir?"

Adrian took another sip of whiskey, his voice cold as winter glass. "You heard me."

Back in the cathedral, Talia had officially entered auto-pilot humiliation mode.

She'd stopped feeling her feet, her arms, maybe even her soul. She just stood there - statue still, waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

Then a stranger approached. A man in a black suit, perfectly dry despite the rain.

"Miss Monroe?"

She blinked. "Who's asking?"

"Mr. Voss would like a word."

"Mr. who?"

"Adrian Voss."

The name hit her like thunder. Everyone in London knew that name. Billionaire. CEO. Untouchable. The man who could buy silence with a signature.

She almost laughed. "Right. And what does a billionaire want with a woman who just got dumped mid-wedding?"

The assistant hesitated. "He said you'd understand."

Maya leaned in, suspicious. "This smells like a setup."

But Talia's curiosity and maybe her pride - got the better of her. "Fine. Where is he?"

The meeting took place in a private suite that looked like sin and smelled like power.

He was already there when she walked in - sitting behind a polished oak table, a drink in hand, eyes unreadable.

He looked nothing like the photos.

He was sharper. Colder. More dangerous in silence than any man she'd ever met in anger.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked.

Adrian's gaze flicked up. "Sit."

Talia froze. "Excuse me?"

"I said, sit." His tone wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.

She sat. Mostly out of shock.

He poured a second glass of whiskey and slid it across the table. She didn't touch it.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"An arrangement," he said simply.

Her eyebrows shot up. "An arrangement?"

"You're humiliated. I'm humiliated." His voice was smooth but deadly precise. "You need to fix your reputation. I need to control the story. We can help each other."

Talia blinked, trying to process. "Help each other? How?"

"Marry me."

She stared. "I'm sorry, what?"

He leaned back, eyes glinting. "You heard me. A marriage contract. Temporary. Six months. We pretend this was planned all along. You save face, I protect my company."

"You're insane."

"Possibly." His lips curved - not a smile, something colder. "But so are you. You came here."

Her pulse jumped. "You don't even know me."

"I don't need to." He slid a document across the table. "You're a problem, Miss Monroe. I'm a man who solves problems. Efficiently."

Talia let out a disbelieving laugh. "You think I'll marry a stranger just because it's convenient?"

"No," he said coolly. "I think you'll do it because you hate losing more than you hate me."

Her breath caught. He was right. She hated being pitied. Hated being small.

"Six months," he said again, voice smooth, lethal, and calm. "No strings. No emotions. Just headlines."

Silence filled the room.

Her subconscious whispered, This man's either a genius or the devil himself.

Finally, Talia exhaled. "Fine."

He nodded once, no visible satisfaction, just that calm composure that felt almost inhuman. "My lawyer will contact yours."

"I'll have mine review it too," she said quickly.

"Good." His gaze flicked up, sharp as a blade. "I don't like naïve people."

And yet he's marrying one, her inner voice muttered.

That night, while London slept under sheets of rain, two signatures were inked in silence.

Two broken vows merged into one calculated deal.

By morning, the tabloids screamed:

"VOSS & MONROE: SURPRISE WEDDING STUNS LONDON!"

And somewhere in the city, Adrian Voss smirked faintly -

because for him, this was never about love.

It was about control.