The red-eye flight to Los Angeles left me hollow-eyed and trembling, but determination burned through my exhaustion. Nathaniel's words from the Plaza Hotel echoed in my mind like poison: 'The hundredth will be the last.' Not just another humiliation—his grand finale before marrying Victoria in my dream destination.

I hadn't slept. I hadn't changed out of yesterday's clothes. My hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and dark circles shadowed my eyes. I didn't look like Isabella Martinez, the society darling Nathaniel Sterling had systematically destroyed. I looked like what I was: a desperate woman with nothing left to lose.

The Cross Corporation tower gleamed like a silver blade against the California sky. I stepped out of my taxi, tilting my head back to take in all sixty-eight floors of Alexander Cross's empire. The rival to Sterling Enterprises. The man Nathaniel despised above all others.

My salvation, perhaps. My only hope.

The security guard at the front desk frowned as I approached. I didn't blame him. I looked like I'd been through hell—because I had.

'I need to see Alexander Cross,' I said, my voice steadier than I expected.

'Do you have an appointment?' His eyes swept over my rumpled appearance with professional skepticism.

'No. But tell him Isabella Martinez is here.' I straightened my shoulders. 'Tell him it's urgent.'

Something flickered in his eyes—recognition. Of course. My humiliations had been splashed across every tabloid in the country. Ninety-nine failed weddings had made me infamous.

Ten minutes and three layers of assistants later, I stood outside the imposing mahogany doors of Alexander Cross's executive suite. My heart hammered against my ribs. This was madness. A Hail Mary pass with virtually no chance of success. But I was out of options.

'Ms. Martinez.' The assistant's voice pulled me from my thoughts. 'Mr. Cross will see you now.'

I walked into a vast office dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Los Angeles. Alexander Cross stood behind his desk, tall and imposing in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His dark eyes studied me with an intensity that made me want to shrink back.

'Isabella Martinez.' His voice was deep, measured. 'This is... unexpected.'

'I need your help,' I said, the words tumbling out before I could lose my nerve. 'I want you to marry me.'

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Alexander's expression remained unreadable, but I caught the slight tightening of his jaw.

'Perhaps you should sit down,' he finally said, gesturing to a leather chair.

I remained standing. 'Nathaniel plans to humiliate me one final time. A hundredth wedding ceremony, followed immediately by his real wedding to Victoria Ashford. In the Maldives—the place I always dreamed would be our honeymoon destination.' My voice cracked. 'I can't let him win. Not again. Not like this.'

'And marrying me would accomplish what, exactly?' His tone was careful, neutral.

'It would ruin his grand finale. The contract stipulates I must attempt all hundred ceremonies, but it doesn't specify who the groom must be.' I met his gaze steadily. 'Help me beat him at his own game.'

Alexander studied me for a long moment, then walked to a door at the side of his office. 'Come with me.'

He led me into what appeared to be a private study. I stopped just inside the doorway, my breath catching in my throat.

The walls were covered with me.

Newspaper clippings. Magazine covers. Society photographs spanning years. Me at charity galas. Me at museum openings. Me in the background of business events. All carefully framed, meticulously preserved.

'What is this?' I whispered, turning slowly to take in the room.

Alexander stood with his hands in his pockets, a vulnerability in his expression I'd never seen before. 'I've admired you for a very long time, Isabella.'

'You've been... collecting me?' I couldn't decide if I was terrified or touched.

'I've been watching you shine,' he corrected softly. 'And then watching him systematically try to extinguish that light.'

He moved closer, his eyes never leaving mine. 'I'll marry you, Isabella. Not just to thwart Nathaniel's plans, but because I've waited years for a chance to protect you from him.'

I stared at this man—this stranger who somehow wasn't a stranger at all—and felt something crack open inside my chest. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

'We'll need a marriage license in Seattle,' he continued, already strategizing. 'And I know a vineyard in Napa Valley that would be perfect for the ceremony.'

'Why are you doing this?' I had to ask. 'Really?'

Alexander's gaze softened. 'Because some men build their empires by destroying beautiful things.' He reached out, his fingers hovering near my cheek without touching me. 'And some of us would rather preserve them.'

The morning light filtered through the grand windows of Kleinfeld Bridal, casting a golden glow across the showroom floor. I stood before a three-way mirror, barely recognizing the woman who stared back at me. For the first time in two years, I wasn't trying on a wedding dress to please Nathaniel Sterling. This gown—a sleek, ivory sheath with delicate beading along the neckline—was for me. For my future with Alexander.

"It's perfect," I whispered, running my fingers along the smooth fabric. No princess ball gown, no cathedral train, none of the extravagant details Nathaniel had insisted upon for his spectacles of humiliation. This dress was elegant in its simplicity. It represented everything my new beginning should be: clean, uncomplicated, free from the weight of the past.

The bridal consultant smiled, adjusting the straps with practiced hands. "You look stunning, Ms. Martinez. A complete departure from your previous styles."

I caught her eye in the mirror. "That's exactly the point."

The bell above the boutique door chimed, and I felt a chill run down my spine before I even turned around. Some instincts you develop after being hunted for sport by the New York elite. Some predators you can sense before you see them.

"Isabella! What a delightful coincidence."

Victoria Ashford's voice dripped with false sweetness as she glided across the showroom floor, her Louboutins clicking against the marble. She wore a cream-colored Chanel suit that made her look like she was playing dress-up in her mother's clothes—trying too hard, as always.

"Victoria." I kept my voice neutral, though my heart hammered against my ribs. "I wasn't aware you had an appointment today."

"Oh, I don't." She circled me slowly, her eyes traveling up and down my form with calculated assessment. "I was just passing by and saw you through the window. Couldn't resist coming in to say hello to New York's most persistent bride." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Dress number one hundred?"

The bridal consultant shifted uncomfortably beside me, clearly sensing the tension crackling in the air.

"Something like that," I replied, turning back to my reflection. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.

"Hmm." Victoria moved closer, her perfume—too strong, too sweet—invading my space. "It's... simple, isn't it? Almost plain. But I suppose after ninety-nine failures, one stops trying so hard."

I met her gaze in the mirror. "Or perhaps one realizes that the dress was never the problem."

Something dangerous flashed in her eyes. "No, the problem was always you, wasn't it? The woman who killed his sister and still expected a happily ever after."

The words struck like physical blows, but I'd heard them too many times to flinch anymore. "Is there something specific you wanted, Victoria? Besides poisoning my fitting with your presence?"

Her smile widened, becoming almost manic. "Just to give you a wedding gift."

It happened so quickly I had no time to react. Victoria's hand emerged from behind her back, a crystal flute of deep red wine clutched in her manicured fingers. With a fluid, practiced motion, she hurled the contents across the bodice of my gown.

The liquid splashed across the ivory fabric like blood, immediately seeping into the delicate material. Crimson rivulets ran down the front of the dress, staining everything they touched.

"Oops," Victoria whispered, her eyes alight with malicious triumph. "How clumsy of me."

The bridal consultant gasped in horror. "Ms. Ashford! What have you done?"

Something snapped inside me—a dam breaking after holding back two years of humiliation and pain. I stepped down from the pedestal, the ruined dress trailing behind me.

"You pathetic, insecure little girl," I said, my voice low and steady. "Is this what you've been reduced to? Destroying dresses because you know you'll never measure up to what I was to him?"

Victoria's smile faltered. "What you were? Past tense, darling. I'm what he wants now. I'm who he's choosing."

"Is he? Or is he just using you the way he's been using me—as a prop in his revenge fantasy?" I moved closer, refusing to back down. "He doesn't love you, Victoria. He's not capable of love anymore. I destroyed that part of him—or at least, that's what he believes."

Fury contorted her features. "You know nothing about what Nathaniel feels for me."

"I know everything about Nathaniel Sterling," I countered. "Including the fact that he'll discard you the moment you're no longer useful to his vendetta."

Victoria's hand flew up, poised to strike my face—but she froze mid-motion, her eyes fixed on something over my shoulder. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips as she lowered her arm and instead reached for her phone.

She turned the screen toward me. Nathaniel's face filled the display, his expression cold and hard as granite. A live video call.

"That's enough, Isabella," he said, his voice sending ice through my veins despite the digital distance between us. "Security will escort you out now."

As if summoned by his words, two men in black suits appeared at the entrance to the fitting room.

"Mr. Sterling has requested you leave the premises immediately, Ms. Martinez," the taller one stated without emotion.

Victoria's soft clapping punctuated my humiliation as the guards moved toward me. "You see, Isabella? You'll always be his broken trophy. And I'll always be the one he chooses."