My Groom Let Me Die to Save His Mistress

The Hamptons glittered under the summer stars as Ander raised his champagne flute, his eyes never leaving mine. Hundreds of guests in evening wear filled the manicured gardens of his family's estate, crystal glasses clinking while string musicians played softly in the background.

"To Elaina," Ander announced, his voice carrying across the hushed crowd. "The woman who will soon become my wife."

I blushed, feeling the weight of my three-carat engagement ring as I squeezed his hand. This was everything I'd dreamed of since we were sixteen—Ander Lynch and Elaina Garcia, high school sweethearts turned power couple.

"I promise you a lifetime of happiness," he continued, pulling me close. "Nothing will ever come between us."

The crowd erupted in applause, but something in Ander's eyes flickered—a momentary shadow I couldn't quite place.

"I love you," I whispered against his chest.

"And I love you," he replied, kissing my forehead.

The string lights twinkled overhead, casting a warm glow across the garden. Everything was perfect—too perfect.

Then darkness.

The music screeched to a halt as the power cut out. Guests gasped, phones illuminated faces in the sudden blackness.

"Ander?" I clutched his arm.

"Stay calm," he murmured, but his body tensed beside me.

That's when I saw them—dark figures pouring through the garden gates, weapons glinting in the moonlight. The Russell insignia—a serpent devouring its own tail—emblazoned on their jackets.

"Nobody move!" a voice boomed.

Chaos erupted. Women screamed, men shouted orders, glass shattered as people bolted in all directions.

"Elaina!" Ander pushed me behind him. "Get down!"

He lunged at the nearest intruder, but a sickening crack echoed through the air as the man struck him with the butt of his gun. Ander crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from his temple.

"No!" I screamed, rushing toward him.

Strong hands grabbed me from behind. I kicked and clawed as they dragged me backward through the crowd.

"Let her go!" Ander's voice was barely audible as he struggled to his feet.

"This is just business, Lynch," the leader said coldly. "Your fiancée will be returned when the family pays what they owe."

They pulled me through the garden toward a waiting van. I caught one last glimpse of Ander's face—bloodied but desperate—before they shoved me inside and slammed the doors.

"Ander!" I screamed as the van lurched forward into the night.

---

I awoke to the sound of hushed voices and the smell of antiseptic. Disoriented, I blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling before realizing I was in some kind of medical room.

"She's awake," someone said.

A doctor appeared, checking my vitals while armed guards stood watch outside the door.

"Where am I?" My voice was hoarse.

"You're safe," the doctor lied, avoiding my eyes.

A phone rang somewhere nearby. One of the guards answered, his expression darkening.

"The Garcias are moving," he reported. "They're headed to the drop point with the money."

My heart stopped. "My parents? What are you talking about?"

The guard ignored me, speaking urgently into the phone. "We need backup at the coastal highway. The police might be involved."

I struggled against my restraints. "Let me go! My parents are in danger!"

---

Miles away, Ander groggily opened his eyes in a hospital bed. The room spun as he tried to focus on the television mounted on the wall.

"...breaking news," the reporter was saying. "A high-speed pursuit on Coastal Highway 101 has ended in tragedy..."

Ander's blood ran cold as footage showed emergency vehicles surrounding a cliff edge. The camera panned to a burning wreck at the bottom of the ravine.

"The vehicle, carrying Eduardo and Elena Garcia, reportedly failed to negotiate a curve and plummeted over the edge. Police believe the brakes may have malfunctioned..."

"No!" Ander tore at his IV, stumbling toward the television. "No, no, no!"

He grabbed a nurse who rushed in. "Get me out of here! Elaina's parents—they're dead!"

---

Three days later, Ander sat across from Ivy Russell in a private booth at an exclusive club. His eyes were hollow, his face gaunt from sleepless nights.

"You wanted to see me," Ivy said sweetly, her manicured nails tracing the rim of her glass. "I'm flattered."

"Where is she?" Ander demanded.

"Relax." Ivy smiled. "Elaina is perfectly fine. For now."

She leaned forward, her perfume overwhelming him. "Daddy wants your shipping routes for our... special cargo. But I have different terms."

"What do you want?" His voice was flat.

"You." Her eyes gleamed with triumph. "Publicly court me. Make it convincing. The other families will think you've switched allegiances. It's perfect cover."

Ander's jaw clenched. "And if I refuse?"

Ivy's smile widened as she slid a photo across the table—Elaina, bound to a chair, eyes wide with fear.

"She has such pretty skin," Ivy whispered. "Would be a shame if it got marked up."

Ander stared at the photo, feeling something inside him break. To save Elaina, he would have to become Ivy's puppet.

"Deal," he said hoarsely.