Once Innocent

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

Temple Madison

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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At seven o’clock, Amanda is already dressed up for school. Did I say school? – I meant school mate’s birthday party.

It seemed kind of surprising to everyone, Amanda barely watches television programs with everyone but was still staring at the mirror smiling, dressing her hair back and forth still uncomfortable, she lets her free.

Mom stood speechless watching, a companied by Brother Paul, I and Gloria our housemaid. Her smiles at no one exactly were worth the family checking up on her if she’s okay or if she needs the help of the mental asylum. After a while, she started murmuring to the tin air as if answering questions. She shakes her head moving her blonde hair back and forth trying to behave shabbily.

After some time, she laughed out and her cheeks flush red maybe because of her complexion or maybe she was blushing at tin air too.

Mom couldn’t take it anymore the whole thing looked crazy to her, she felt like slapping her but rather she called on her rashly.

“Amanda, are you okay?” She asked looking at Amanda’s body response; she seemed to be absent-minded the whole time.

“Mum,” she responded looking at me and Brother Paul. The way we stood stationary explains that we were there for a long time staring at her mode display.” I was practicing,” she added scratching her hair and putting her face down.

The surprise on everyone’s face was kind of scary.

I thought you were going to a birthday party?” mum asked.

“Yes mom,” she responded

“What then are you practicing for?” mom asked curiously.

Immediately, her brain ran as far as it could to solve for a response that wouldn’t warrant any further questions.

“You see, I am the assistant senior prefect, the head girl of the college and you know that,” she breaks and swallows. “I have to give a speech,” she added running out with her bag.

Though she didn’t tell me as always where she was going, I knew whose birthday would drive her crazy, ‘Mac-Dicky’s.’

Mac-Dicky is the most handsome guy in school, as they say forgetting that I exist. He is the only crush my sister ever had since from js1 (first grade).

I don’t know if it was because of his cuteness or his brain.

Mac-Dicky although being handsome, had time for his books and has never failed a test.

While he is not the only boy with good grades in my school but his class Ss3.

The other boys in his class were into girls calling themselves playboys.

I wonder what gave them that mindset!

Mac-Dicky isn’t much of a freak he just lives his life and was very much close to my sister but unfortunately, he never asked her out but would come to gist with her.

One crazy thing that made me burst into laughter was when he started dating my sister’s best friend ‘Grace’

Who from the start knew about my sister’s crush on him or should I say love for Dicky because it lasted too long.

“Can they still be friends?”

If I am to be asked, I’ll say I don’t know because they still talk and walk together. The only difference is that my sister doesn’t smile and laugh with her often as her gist with my sister is mostly about Mac.

“Wait a minute,” mom halted her movement, walking towards her and standing right in front of her.

“Where’s your gift for the celebrant?” Mom asked shaking her head slightly and standing akimbo.

“Does she need a gift?” Big brother asked.

For a moment, everyone stood quietly staring at him.

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