Leona Carpenter was finally about to walk down the aisle to marry Michael Hansen.

The majestic swell of the wedding march flooded the venue, and Leona, gliding in her billowing white gown, moved gracefully down the aisle toward Michael, who stood waiting for her at the altar. He looked sharp in a crisp white suit, golden gilded light wrapping around him soft as a kiss, highlighting that same easy, charming demeanor she’d fallen head over heels for the first day they met.

Three years. They’d weathered a hundred storms together to get here, and finally, the dream she’d clung to for so long was seconds from coming true. The only dark cloud hanging over the day? Her family didn’t approve. They weren’t even here to give their blessing.

When Michael stepped forward to take her hand and offer her the bouquet, Leona’s eyes glistened, hot tears of joy pricking at the corners.

“Michael, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, and be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?” The priest asked, his gaze warm and soft as it rested on the couple before him.

Leona swallowed down the fluttering chaos in her chest and fixed her eyes on Michael, bright with hope, dying to hear him say yes.

But something shifted in Michael’s face. His expression went dark, empty, completely blank. He hesitated. The words died in his throat before he could even get them out.

That’s when it happened…

“Michael, oh my god, it’s terrible!” Remy Hansen came bursting through the doors, her face streaked with messy tears, cutting Michael off mid-silence. She choked on her sobs, broken and gasping, “Aila, she…”

A cold, clawing unease coiled tight in Leona’s chest. Tension carved sharp lines into her face, and instinctively, she clutched Michael’s hand harder.

Leona knew better than anyone how much Aila Ellis meant to Michael. She was the one that got away. The impossible love he’d never gotten over.

Years back, when the Hansen family hit rock bottom, Aila chose a full ride to study abroad over their relationship. Michael was broken, too proud to beg her to stay, so he cut her off cold. That’s when he turned to Leona.

But just a month ago? Aila showed back up out of the blue.

Michael’s face shifted so fast it was like a switch flipped. His voice, tight and sharp with urgency, cut through the hush that had fallen over the room, “What happened to Aila?”

“She’s hurt bad, the bleeding won’t stop! The doctors say she might not make it!” Remy sobbed.

The second the words left her mouth, Michael wrenched his hand free of Leona’s grip and bolted for the door.

“You can’t leave!” Leona lunged after him, her trembling fingers locking tight around his wrist, desperation pouring off every inch of her. She held his gaze, begging, “Michael, today’s our wedding. Are you really just going to walk out on me?”

The whispers of the guests, their judgmental stares, felt like a thousand tiny blades slicing into her heart. Tears burned at her lash line as she bowed her pride and begged him, “Michael, can’t we just finish the ceremony first? Please?”

“She got hit saving me from a car crash. I can’t just leave her to die.” Michael tried to yank his hand away, but Leona held on for dear life. His face hardened, and his voice came out cold as ice, “Leona, you know this marriage was just a deal between us. Just do your job as Mrs. Hansen. My private life is none of your damn business.”

Leona’s pupils shrank. She stared at Michael’s cold, set face, disbelief washing over her whole body. Shock slowly melted into bitter, cutting irony.

A wry, broken smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She whispered, thick with sorrow, “So… all of this was just a deal to you?”

"Yes!" Michael’s answer was firm, not a single flicker of hesitation in it.

My chest tightened, like my heart had just taken a hard punch to the gut, a dull, throbbing ache that wouldn’t quit spreading through my ribs. He tossed a casual "sorry" over his shoulder and hurried off like I wasn’t even standing there.

I stayed rooted to the spot, watching him leave, and it felt like a dull blade had just carved my heart open. The pain squeezed so tight I could barely draw breath. Ice crawled up from my toes, numbing every inch of my body, turning me cold all over.

When Michael took over the Hansen family business, it was one bad quarter away from collapsing, finances completely in ruins. He’d sat right across from me and said the company was still unstable, that he couldn’t promise me the steady future I deserved. But he swore once things settled down, he’d marry me.

For three whole years, I clung to that promise. I schemed, I fought, I clawed my way up the corporate ladder just to pull him from nobody to somebody. All I ever wanted was for my family to accept him, for us to finally walk down that aisle. But after three years together… this whole thing was nothing but a business deal to him.

Turns out, in this so-called love of ours, I was the only fool who fell head over heels. All my blood, sweat and tears for three years? Just a bad joke, nothing next to his real one, Aila.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, fighting like hell to hold my tears back, but they spilled anyway—rolling down my cheeks like loose beads off a broken necklace, I couldn’t stop them if I tried. The ache inside me raged so hard my whole body shook uncontrollably.

Remy was standing off to the side, watching me fall apart with that smug little smirk of his. "Leona, if you hadn’t been so damn clingy all these years, my brother never would’ve agreed to marry some tacky, low-class thing like you in the first place. Why don’t you get a clue and get out of the Hansen family for good?"

Hearing Remy say that out loud, bold as brass, made the cold in my bones even worse. "Have you already forgotten? If it wasn’t for me, the Hansen family wouldn’t even be here today, sitting pretty like this."

"Cut the crap!" Remy jabbed a finger right in my face, voice sharp with anger. "You really think you’re some big shot? We’d be doing just fine without you!"

The way they saw me… it made my heart ache so bad I thought it would split in two.

"That’s enough for today," Rosalie, Michael’s mother, snapped as she strode over, impatience rolling off her. Her eyes were full of nothing but disgust, like I was something dirty she’d stepped in off the street. "Look at you! Making a scene like this is bad enough, but the Hansen family can’t afford to lose face over you!"

With that, she slapped that fake, practiced smile right back on her face and turned to greet the guests.

I watched as the guests trickled out in small groups, my wedding—the one I’d dreamed of for years—turning into nothing but one big, humiliating joke. Why did the love and sincerity I gave get thrown back in my face like trash? Was it all just because I fell for a man who never loved me back?

I slowly closed my eyes, tears rolling down my cold cheeks. I felt fragile, helpless, just like a pile of shattered glass no one can bother putting back together.

Thirty minutes later, I found myself wandering aimlessly down a deserted street, like a lost ghost searching for something to ease the ache. I didn’t even notice the rain starting at first: big, heavy drops that quickly turned into a full-on downpour.

I glanced around. There wasn’t any shelter for miles, nothing but a bus stop far off down the road. I was barefoot, so I hurried toward it, but of course my luck held—a sharp, jagged stone sliced right into the arch of my foot. I flinched, biting down hard on the pain, and limped the rest of the way to the stop.

Suddenly, a blaring horn cut straight through the quiet of the rain-soaked street.

I stared at the car roaring straight toward me, my eyes blowing wide, pupils blown black with pure fear.

Leona Carpenter’s mind went completely blank. Her legs felt heavy as lead, too heavy to move. A car tore past her like a streak of black lightning, so close it was almost terrifying. The gust of wind it kicked up sent her crashing to the wet pavement.

She figured the driver would just speed off—there wasn’t a soul around to see what happened. But instead, the car swung around and screeched to a stop right in front of her.

The door swung open, and a pair of perfectly polished black leather boots stepped out onto the road. Long, straight legs strode toward her with purpose, and a black umbrella tilted over her head to block the unrelenting pouring rain.

"You okay?" Vance Martinez’s deep, rich voice cut through the drumming of the rain.

Leona lifted her gaze to the man standing over her. He had sharp, striking features, a chiseled jawline, and eyes so deep and magnetic they pulled her right in, holding a mysterious glint she couldn’t look away from.

Wait… those eyes. Did she know them? She couldn’t quite place it.

Leona shook her head, her voice soft and rough from the shock. "I’m fine, thank you…"

She pushed herself up with effort, but the scrape on her calf and the cut on her foot made her flinch hard, and she stumbled right back down.

Suddenly, a strong, muscular arm curled around her waist, hauling her steady against a solid, warm frame.

Before she knew it, she was pressed right up against Vance’s chest, wrapped in his crisp, masculine scent. Her hands landed instinctively on his chest, and she could feel the hard, firm muscle under his dress shirt— and her heart immediately started hammering against her ribs.

Her palms burned with embarrassment, and she tried to scramble back. Instead of letting go, he just lifted her effortlessly into his arms.

She frowned, her gaze turning icy. "What do you think you’re doing? Put me down!"

She’d dated Michael Hansen for three years, and they’d barely even held hands more than a handful of times. A stranger this forward? It made her skin prickle with discomfort.

Vance held her gaze, his expression calm and unshakable. "You’re hurt. You need to get to a hospital right now."

"I-I can walk on my own." Being this close to him made her jittery; his cool, commanding aura wrapped around her, and it only amplified her nerves.

"Don’t move," he ordered, his voice firm and authoritative, and all the protests died right in Leona’s throat.

Once she was settled in the car, a cold chill went through her and she sneezed. Vance reached over to turn down the AC, then noticed she was still shivering, and draped his wool coat over her shoulders. "Don’t catch a cold."

"Thank you." The coat held his scent and warmth, and it stirred something weird and unnameable in her chest.

Vance caught the pink rising in her cheeks, and a flicker of amusement glinted in his dark eyes. "I should be the one thanking you."

"What do you mean?" Leona blinked, confused.

He held her gaze steady, his voice low and sure. "Thank you for letting me apologize. For giving me a chance to make this right."

The car ate up the road quickly, and before long they pulled up to a hospital nearby. Leona insisted on walking on her own two feet, so Vance matched her slow pace as she limped toward the emergency entrance.

When she came back out, she found him with his back to her, talking on his phone. The second he spotted her, he hung up and walked straight over. "Here’s my number. Hit me up if you need anything at all."

"I don’t need anything else," Leona said politely, declining the business card he held out. The accident was over, and she liked to keep things simple—no unnecessary messy ties with strangers.

She paused, then held out his coat to him. "Here’s your coat. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning, of course."

Vance glanced at the coat in her hands, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You need it way more than I do right now."

His simple line warmed her chest all of a sudden, unexpected. She wondered if she was just extra raw and vulnerable today, to get this worked up over a stranger’s small kindness.

"Thank you, but I’m fine. I really need to go." She turned down his offer of further help—she had urgent matters waiting for her back at the Hansen house.

Vance watched her slender figure retreat down the sidewalk, a determined glint burning in his eyes. "We’ll meet again soon."