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Swapping Grooms: Revenge Of The True Heiress

Swapping Grooms: Revenge Of The True Heiress

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Chapter 1 The Wrong Groom

Word Count: 829    |    Released on: Today at 11:56

ght from the stained-glass windows fell upon Cassie Rosales, standing at th

contain. It was a smile of triumph. He believed he was moments away

st him, over the sea of New York's elite, an

owland s

. His face was pale, his posture still, as if the c

memory flooded

brutal cold of the Atlantic in winter. And just before she fel

. A life ended by a murder

r girl, you really think you can be the mistress of the

gertips, but she took a slow, deep

as not

as t

nd a side door. Her heart was probably pounding against the silk of

t, shot a subtle, reassuring glance at Alex. A s

leared his throat. His voice b

ake the bride's hand, as you

g victory, ext

arget was

r side, at the empty space reserv

e guests. They watched, con

ing into a smile. The door where

Cassie

glance for Alex's

s, she lifted the hem of her gown and to

. She walked direc

ce. He stared at her back, h

in front of A

icker of surprise, a hint of inquiry,

but the microphone carried it throughou

oom e

ntically. Camera flashes went

purple. He stumbled down the

Are you

er move, her carefully chosen gambit. She would marry the man who held

like an eternity. His gaze flickered to Alex's furiou

y, he rose

thin but with a straig

answer her

d his hand. A simpl

ssie placed her hand i

to grab her, but two of the Rowland family's bod

ed a hand over her mouth, her body trembling with d

k to the altar, to th

ear. "Mr. Peterson, I believe

e Rowland family's butler in the front row. The

tmosphere. Alex was "escorted" from the ch

finger, his thumb brushed against her pa

. Mr. Peterson pronounc

veil. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear,

Don't make m

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Swapping Grooms: Revenge Of The True Heiress
Swapping Grooms: Revenge Of The True Heiress
“I was standing at the altar of St. Trinity Church, about to exchange vows with my fiancé, Alex Rowland. But when the officiant spoke, Alex didn't take my hand. He reached toward the side door, where my foster sister, Amelia, was waiting in her own wedding dress. In my past life, I was paralyzed by the humiliation. Later, when I uncovered my foster family's dark secrets, Alex pushed me into the freezing Atlantic. As icy water filled my lungs, he sneered that a mere foster girl never deserved his love. After I died, my soul lingered just long enough to hear my foster parents' chilling confession. I wasn't an orphan. I was a stolen heiress. They had kidnapped me as an infant, used me as a disposable pawn to pave the way for their biological daughter, and murdered me to steal my identity bracelet. I died drowning in betrayal, my true identity buried forever, treated like a stray dog by the monsters I called family. Opening my eyes again, I was back at the altar, right before the moment of my public ruin. This time, I ignored Alex's outstretched hand, lifted the hem of my gown, and walked straight past him. I stopped in front of his sickly, untouchable cousin-the true billionaire heir of the Rowland family. "Mr. Rowland, will you marry me?"”