Flash Marriage To The Secret Zillionaire Boss

The heavy fabric of the white couture gown dragged against the thick carpet of the VIP hallway. Darla Hammond gripped the silk folds, her palms sweating.

She walked down the corridor of The Grand Sovereign hotel, the silence of the exclusive floor pressing against her eardrums. She reached up, her fingers brushing the cold pearls of her necklace. Her stomach fluttered. In less than an hour, she would walk into the grand ballroom and announce her engagement to Bennet Branch.

She stopped in front of the heavy oak door of the VIP dressing room. She wanted to surprise him.

Darla raised her knuckles to the wood. Before she could knock, a sound slipped through the slight crack in the door.

It was a wet, heavy gasp.

Darla's hand froze in mid-air. The blood drained from her face, leaving her skin ice-cold. She stopped breathing.

"Bennet... right there."

The voice belonged to Caren. Her stepsister.

Darla's pupils dilated. Her chest tightened so fast it felt like a physical blow to her ribs. Her vision blurred at the edges. The pearls around her neck suddenly felt like a hangman's noose, choking the air out of her lungs.

She pressed her hand flat against the wood and shoved.

The heavy oak door slammed against the wall with a deafening crack.

Bennet and Caren froze on the velvet sofa. Their clothes were bunched up, their skin flushed.

Darla stared at them. Her stomach violently lurched, acid burning the back of her throat.

Bennet scrambled backward, his face turning the color of ash. He grabbed his dress shirt, holding it against his chest with shaking hands.

Caren let out a high-pitched scream. She dove behind Bennet's shoulder, pulling her ruined dress up, her eyes wide with fake terror.

"Darla!" Bennet stammered, his voice cracking. "It's not... this is a mistake. Let me explain."

A dry, hollow sound scraped its way out of Darla's throat. It was a laugh devoid of any humor.

She stepped into the room. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor like gunshots. She didn't blink. She didn't cry. The betrayal burned through her veins, turning her initial shock into a hard, cold rage.

She stopped right in front of Bennet.

Darla raised her right hand and swung.

The slap echoed through the dressing room. The impact stung her palm, but the sound was incredibly satisfying. Bennet's head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint instantly bloomed across his pale cheek.

"You're crazy!" Caren cried out, pointing a trembling finger at Darla. "You're so rough! Bennet doesn't even love you!"

Darla slowly turned her head. She looked at Caren with dead eyes.

"You can keep him, Caren," Darla said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You always did like picking up my trash."

She didn't wait for a response. Darla spun on her heel and marched out of the room. The air in the hallway hit her lungs, but she didn't slow down. Bennet yelled her name from the doorway, but his voice sounded like static.

She walked straight toward the grand double doors of the ballroom. She pushed them open.

The blinding light of the crystal chandeliers hit her face. Hundreds of New York's elite turned their heads. The chatter died instantly. All eyes locked onto Darla as she walked in alone.

Agnes, her adoptive mother, pushed through the crowd. Her face was tight with disapproval. "Darla, where is Bennet?"

Darla ignored her. She walked past Agnes, her eyes fixed on the stage in the center of the room. She climbed the steps, her white gown flowing behind her.

She walked up to the MC and ripped the microphone from his hand. The speakers let out a sharp, piercing whine that made the guests wince.

Darla looked out at the sea of expensive suits and designer dresses. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her hand holding the microphone was rock steady.

"This engagement is canceled," Darla's voice boomed through the speakers, hard and clear.

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

"If anyone is looking for Bennet Branch," Darla continued, her eyes scanning the shocked faces of the Branch family, "he is currently in the VIP dressing room, sleeping with my stepsister, Caren."

The ballroom erupted. Whispers hissed through the crowd like a lit fuse.

Darla didn't say another word. She dropped the microphone. It hit the wooden stage with a heavy thud. She turned her back on the chaos and walked down the stairs.