Corrine Holland stood moments away from marrying Bruce Ashton, her dream finally within reach. The wedding march echoed through the hall as she glided down the red carpet in her immaculate white gown, moving toward Bruce, who awaited her at the altar. Bathed in streams of golden light, his white suit seemed to shimmer, highlighting the refined features that had first captured her heart years ago.
Their relationship had weathered countless storms over three years, and now, despite her family’s refusal to bless their union, her cherished dream was about to become a reality. As Bruce stepped forward to present her bouquet, tears of joy threatened to spill from her eyes.
The priest’s kind eyes settled on the couple as he spoke.
“Do you, Bruce Ashton, take this woman to be your wife? Will you love her, honor her, respect her, and accept her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?” Corrine’s heart fluttered as she turned expectantly toward Bruce, awaiting his answer.
Instead of joy, however, his features twisted with uncertainty, an unsettling hesitation clouding his expression. Suddenly, the doors burst open. Rita Ashton, Bruce’s younger sister, stumbled in with tears streaming down her face.
“Bruce, it’s bad!” she cried, looking lost and desperate.
“Leah… she… she…”
A cold wave of dread washed over Corrine. Her grip tightened around Bruce’s hand as her heart hammered against her ribs. The name awakened painful memories-Leah Burgess, the unreachable star in Bruce’s firmament. When the Ashton family had fallen from grace years ago, Leah had chosen opportunity abroad over love, prompting Bruce to sever ties and turn to Corrine. Yet just a month ago, Leah had mysteriously reappeared.
Bruce’s face drained of color.
“What happened to Leah?” he demanded, panic threading through his voice.
“Leah’s bleeding won’t stop,” Rita sobbed.
“The doctor says she might not make it.”
Without hesitation, Bruce wrenched his hand from Corrine’s and bolted toward the door. Corrine lunged forward, catching his arm.
“You can’t leave!”
Her body trembled as she met his gaze, pleading.
“Bruce, this is our wedding ceremony. Would you really abandon it?”
Whispers rippled through the gathered crowd, their mocking glances piercing her like daggers. Tears threatened as she beseeched him, “Bruce, couldn’t we at least complete the ceremony?”
“Leah was struck by a car while saving me. I can’t abandon her now!” Bruce struggled against her grip, his expression hardening into something foreign and cold.
“Corrine, you know this marriage is merely a transaction. Your role is to be Mrs. Ashton in name-nothing more. Don’t interfere in my personal matters.”
A transaction. The word echoed in the hollow chamber of Corrine’s heart as she stared at his unyielding face. Shock slowly transformed into bitter understanding, twisting her lips into a mockery of a smile.
“So that’s all our marriage meant to you?” she whispered, her voice heavy with realization.
“Just a business deal?”
“Yes.” Bruce’s affirmation struck with devastating finality. The impact of that single word reverberated through Corrine’s chest, each pulse bringing fresh waves of suffocating pain
His muttered “sorry” trailed behind him as he rushed away, the word falling hollow in the charged air. Corrine remained rooted in place, watching his retreating figure grow smaller. The pain in her chest intensified, as though someone were methodically carving out her heart with a dull blade.
A numbing chill crept upward from her feet, gradually claiming her entire body. The memories surfaced unbidden. When Bruce had assumed control of the failing Ashton family business, they had teetered on the precipice of bankruptcy. He had confessed his inability to provide her with a secure future then, but promised marriage once the company recovered.
She had clung to that promise, leveraging her own position and connections to elevate him from obscurity to prominence in the business world, all in hopes of hastening their union and earning her family’s blessing.
Now the truth emerged with cruel clarity-their three years together had meant nothing more than a business arrangement to him. In this facade of love, she alone had invested genuine emotion. Her years of devotion and sacrifice crumbled to dust in the shadow of his true priorities.
Though she fought to contain them, tears spilled down her cheeks as violent tremors wracked her body.
Rita observed Corrine’s distress with undisguised satisfaction.
“Corrine, did you truly believe my brother would have chosen someone like you-a simple country girl without education or background-if you hadn’t forced yourself into his life? Know your place and leave quietly!”
The words pierced like ice through Corrine’s chest.
“The Ashton family’s current success exists because of my efforts! Have you forgotten that?”
“Stop this nonsense!” Rita jabbed an accusatory finger toward her.
“You think yourself so important? The Ashtons would flourish with or without you!” Each word deepened the wound.
The wound in Corrine’s heart deepened. This, then, was how the Ashtons viewed her contribution.
Bruce’s mother, Tracy Ashton, rose with practiced grace, approaching Corrine with poorly concealed revulsion.
“Enough of this spectacle,” she declared, her eyes reflecting nothing but contempt.
“You’re not only humiliating yourself but threatening the Ashton family’s reputation!”
With that dismissal, Tracy turned to apologize and bid farewell to the departing guests, her social mask firmly in place.
Corrine watched the crowd disperse, her dream wedding transformed into a cruel farce.
Why had all her love and sacrifice earned nothing but rejection? Had she erred so grievously in loving someone incapable of returning her feelings?
Fresh tears fell as she closed her eyes, acceptance of her reality settling like lead in her stomach.
Thirty minutes later, Corrine wandered the empty streets like a ghost, purposeless and alone. It began to rain. The gentle drizzle soon transformed into a merciless downpour.
She spotted a distant bus stop-her only refuge from the rain. Barefoot, she broke into a run, but fate wasn’t finished with her yet. A sharp stone sliced into her sole, forcing her to limp the remaining distance.
The sudden blare of a car horn shattered the rain’s steady rhythm. As headlights bore down upon her, Corrine’s eyes widened in terror, her pupils trembling as death approached
Corrine’s mind emptied like an overturned glass, her feet becoming lead weights against the pavement. The car blazed past her, an obsidian bullet piercing through space and time. The violent aftermath of rushing air sent Corrine sprawling onto the unforgiving ground.
In the desolate street, logic dictated the driver would vanish into the night-no witnesses, no consequences, no trace to follow in their wake. Yet fate had other plans. The vehicle’s engine growled as it reversed, coming to rest mere inches from where she lay. The passenger door swung open with deliberate grace, revealing an elegant figure stepping forth. Custom black leather shoes touched the ground as their owner emerged, extending an ebony umbrella that sheltered her from the relentless downpour.
“Are you alright?” The deep timbre of Nate Hopkins’ voice resonated through the rain-soaked air.
Corrine’s gaze traveled upward, taking in the sight before her. His face was a study in precision-sharp angles and defined planes that spoke of nobility, while his eyes held an inexplicable magnetism that tugged at the edges of her memory.
Those eyes stirred something within her consciousness-a whisper of recognition that danced just beyond her grasp.
“I’m fine, thank you…” The words scraped past her throat in barely more than a whisper.
Her attempt to stand ended in defeat as pain lanced through her scraped legs and lacerated foot, sending her tumbling back toward the ground. Before gravity could claim her again, a strong arm swept around her waist, drawing her up against a solid wall of strength.
The chill emanating from Nate’s body enveloped her as she found herself pressed against his chest. Her palms connected with the firm plane of his torso, and heat bloomed beneath her fingers despite his cool exterior.
The contrast of sensations overwhelmed her senses. Instinct drove her to push away, but Nate responded by gathering her more securely into his arms, lifting her with effortless grace.
“What are you doing? Put me down!” Ice crystallized in Corrine’s voice, matching the sudden frost in her expression. The intimate contact struck a discordant note-even Bruce, her companion of three years, had never ventured beyond holding hands. This stranger’s bold actions stirred uncomfortable waves in her carefully ordered world.
Nate’s steady gaze found hers, his voice carrying quiet authority.
“You’re injured. You need to go to the hospital.”
“I-I can walk on my own,” Corrine protested, though his proximity sent waves of tension through her body, his cold aura pressing in from all sides.
“Don’t move.” The command rolled from his lips like distant thunder, brooking no argument and stilling her resistance.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.