Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Ruthless Boss

Alyssa lifted the heavy layers of her silk wedding gown, her heels sinking into the thick carpet of the hotel corridor. Her chest tightened with every step. Preston had been missing for twenty minutes, and the ceremony was about to start.

She pushed open the heavy fire door leading to the VIP parking garage. The air instantly turned cold and smelled of exhaust.

A muffled, rhythmic sound echoed off the concrete walls.

Alyssa froze. Her stomach dropped. She followed the sound, her pulse hammering in her throat.

She approached the familiar black Maybach parked in the corner. The tinted window was rolled down an inch, letting the stale garage air in.

And letting the sounds out.

"Preston... wait, someone might hear."

It was Khloe. Her stepsister's voice was breathless, sticky sweet.

Alyssa stopped breathing. She stepped closer, her eyes locking onto the narrow gap in the window.

Preston was pinned over Khloe in the backseat. His hands were tangled in her bridesmaid dress.

Alyssa bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. The sharp pain was the only thing keeping the scream trapped in her lungs.

"Let them hear," Preston panted. "Today is just a show. I just need to keep Alyssa calm until the papers are signed."

Khloe let out a soft laugh, her manicured fingers digging into Preston's shoulders. "When do I get her mother's copy of The Antiquary's Codex? You promised."

"As soon as the property rights transfer," Preston said, his voice cold and flat. "Then we'll have her committed. A psychiatric ward is exactly where a hysterical woman belongs."

The blood drained from Alyssa's face. The betrayal didn't just break her heart—it turned her veins to ice. They weren't just cheating. They were hunting her mother's legacy.

Her hands shook as she opened her clutch. She pulled out her phone, her thumb slipping twice before she opened the camera.

She held the lens right up to the gap in the window. The red recording dot blinked.

She captured their tangled bodies. She captured every vile word about the asylum and the Codex.

Alyssa hit save. She didn't make a single sound. She turned on her heel and walked back toward the elevators, her spine rigid.

Back in the bridal suite, she stared at her pale reflection in the vanity mirror. She grabbed a concealer stick and dabbed it over the redness at the corners of her eyes.

A knock sounded at the door. "Alyssa? It's time."

She took a deep breath, forcing oxygen into her tight lungs. She opened the door, a flawless, plastic smile plastered on her face.

The grand doors of the ballroom swung open. Blinding spotlights hit her. Hundreds of guests stood, their eyes on her.

At the end of the rose-petal-covered aisle stood Preston. He wore a tailored tuxedo and a look of absolute, sickening devotion.

Khloe stood to the side in her chief bridesmaid dress. She caught Preston's eye and gave him a subtle, triumphant wink.

Alyssa stepped forward. Her heels clicked against the marble floor with heavy, rhythmic precision.

She reached the altar. The priest smiled and opened his book, his voice booming over the microphone.

"Do you, Alyssa Barrera, take this man..."

The room was dead silent.

Alyssa let out a sharp, mocking laugh. It echoed through the massive hall.

She reached into the center of her bridal bouquet and pulled out her smartphone. She had easily slipped into the hotel's unsecured media network the night before, noticing the AV team had left the default passwords active. With a single tap, she bypassed their system and pressed launch.

The massive LED screen behind the altar flickered and went black.

Then, the garage video played. In high definition.

The moans and Preston's cruel words about the psychiatric ward blasted through the state-of-the-art sound system.

A collective gasp ripped through the crowd. Whispers erupted into shouts.

Preston's mask of devotion shattered. His face turned the color of ash as he stared at the screen.

Khloe screamed. She threw her hands over her face, using her bouquet as a shield against the burning stares of the elite crowd.

At the head table, Alyssa's stepmother, Brenda, shot up from her chair. Her face was purple with rage. "Cut the power! Security, cut the screen!" she shrieked.

Alyssa reached up and ripped the white veil from her hair. She threw it directly into Preston's face.

She grabbed the priest's microphone. "The wedding is canceled."

Flashbulbs exploded from the press section. Amidst the chaos, Alyssa grabbed the heavy skirt of her dress, turned her back on the altar, and walked straight toward the exit.