My Groom Ditched Me, Now I Hunt The Secret Evil Syndicate

Natalie Alexander stood in the bridal suite at the top of the hotel, a gilded invitation card pinched between her fingers. Her fingertips had gone pale. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of London’s most luxurious hotel, her reflection stared back at her: a pristine white wedding gown, complete with a three-meter train and thousands of hand-sewn crystals.

Rumor had it the dress had been flown in from Paris, commissioned by the Ford family matriarch, costing hundreds of thousands of pounds. But now it lay crumpled on the carpet, stained with red wine, like a forgotten rag.

“Miss Alexander, Mr. Ford… he’s been delayed. He said he’ll be here later.” The assistant hovered in the corner, sweating bullets, refusing to meet Natalie’s eyes.

This soon-to-be Mrs. Ford was the calmest bride he’d ever seen. She’d been waiting since eight a.m. It was now two p.m., and the groom was nowhere to be found. His phone was off. The people sent to track him down reported that Grey Ford had spent the night at Nightfall, a club, and was currently passed out in a private room with two Instagram models.

Any other woman might have been sobbing, screaming, maybe even running out in her wedding dress. But Natalie picked up the gown, dusted it off, and gave the assistant a gentle smile. “I understand. Thank you for keeping me informed.”

The assistant shivered. That smile was too pure, too sweet—nothing like the gossip online about “Grey Ford’s forced marriage.” According to the internet, the Alexander family’s daughter, newly returned from abroad, was a pushover. Grey despised her. He’d left her in the lurch on her own wedding day, and she was doomed to a miserable life with the Fords.

Natalie folded the dress neatly, put it back in the closet, and pulled a simple white T-shirt and jeans from her suitcase. She removed the elaborate diamond hairpieces, letting her hair fall loose before tying it casually into a ponytail.

“Let Grey know,” she said, applying a light layer of lipstick that brightened her complexion, “that the wedding has been rescheduled for seven p.m. If he doesn’t show by then, I’ll tell Mrs. Hudson the wedding is off. Also, the banquet deposit is non-refundable. Make sure he sends the cancellation fee to my account.”

The assistant was stunned. “Evening at seven?”

“Is there a problem?”

“N-no, not at all!” The assistant dashed out, phone already in hand, making frantic calls as he went.

Natalie studied her reflection in the mirror. Twenty-five years old. Five foot six. Less than a hundred pounds. She had the “harmless ingénue” look down to a science—round doe eyes, a slightly upturned nose, thin pale lips, and soft dimples when she smiled.

Her complexion was pale and cool, her wrists delicate enough to snap. Everyone she met said she didn’t look like someone who could stand her ground.

And really, why would they think otherwise? Her family had left her in the UK unsupervised for a decade, only to suddenly call her back for a marriage of convenience. The groom was the most notorious son of one of London’s elite families—Grey Ford of the Fords.

The Alexanders wanted the Ford family’s influence. Mrs. Hudson wanted a “compliant and obedient” granddaughter-in-law to rein Grey in. Both families agreed without bothering to ask Natalie for her consent.

Over the phone, she had said only, “Alright.”

When she returned, Grey had met her at the airport, lounging in the back of a car with two young models, one on each side. He looked at her with his chin raised. “Natalie, right? Be sensible. After the wedding, we live separate lives. Don’t mess with me, and I won’t mess with you. You handle my grandmother, and you’ll get every penny you’re promised.”

Natalie, who hadn’t even set her luggage down, regarded him for a moment. Then she smiled. “Sure.”

Grey blinked, momentarily thrown by her smile, but he quickly brushed it off and ordered the driver to leave.

That evening, Natalie returned to the Alexander household. She faced her stepmother Bella Cunningham’s fake smile and the eyes of a family that saw her as property to be sold. At dinner, she quietly finished a bowl of pasta, then asked Bella, “Auntie, I studied gemology in the UK, and I want to open a studio. Could you lend me three hundred thousand pounds?”

Bella paused, fork suspended midair, her smile very much a mask. “Natalie, you know the company has been having some cash flow issues lately… Perhaps you could help out at your father’s company instead?”

Natalie nodded. “Sure.”

The next day, she went to the Alexander Group to “help out.” She spent the morning reviewing three years of financial statements, and in the afternoon, she walked into a board meeting and projected three money-laundering schemes onto the big screen for the directors.

“This sum went into Bella’s brother’s private account. This one was transferred to an overseas shell company. Altogether, over a million. Dad, are you genuinely unaware, or just ignoring it?”

Mr. Alexander—Stephen Alexander—turned pale with rage.

Bella burst into the meeting room, calling Natalie a thankless ingrate and a bastard, back to ruin the family.

Natalie calmly turned off the projector, packed up her computer, stood, and bowed to the directors. “I apologize for the domestic scene. I’ll recover these funds within three days, ensuring it doesn’t disrupt company operations.”

As she left the room, a coffee cup shattered behind her.

Three days later, 1.2 million pounds were returned to the Alexander account.

Natalie didn’t return to the company. She got a text from Bella, venomous: “Fine, you’re good. Now just marry that Ford brat and see how long you last!”

In the bridal suite now, Natalie glanced at her phone.

It was three p.m. Four hours until the rescheduled time.

Not wasting a second, she opened her laptop and logged into a darknet terminal inaccessible to the general public. The interface was black, with a single silver wing symbol in the center—“Silver Wing.”

She had twelve unread emails. Skimming through, she replied to three marked urgent.

One was from Southeast Asia, code name “Finley”: “President, the Double Dragon Society is sniffing around. Looks like they caught wind of your return. Be cautious.”

Natalie typed a brief reply: “Let them snoop.”

Closing her laptop, she stretched with a yawn. Outside, the sunset painted the sky gold and red.

Her phone rang. It was the assistant: “Miss Alexander! Grey’s awake! He said he’ll be there at seven sharp tonight!”

“Okay.”

“A-and also…” The assistant hesitated. “Grey said not to try any tricks. Even if he shows up, he won’t be kind to you.”

Natalie balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear as she poured herself a glass of warm water. “Tell him I changed the wedding dress. It’s not the one Mrs. Hudson chose.”

“Huh? But that dress is—”

“Too big. It felt like wearing a bedsheet. I had something else sent over, simple and white. If he feels embarrassed, he can stand me up again. I don’t mind.”

There was a pause on the other end before the assistant whispered, “Miss Alexander, you… you’re really not afraid of Mr. Ford?”

Natalie chuckled softly, sipping her water.

“Afraid of him?” She blinked at her reflection in the window. “Why should I be afraid of a spoiled rich kid who can’t even manage his family’s business?”

By 6:50 p.m., the hotel ballroom was filling up.

The guest list included relatives from both the Ford and Alexander families, plus notable figures from business and politics—over three hundred guests in all.

Mrs. Hudson sat at the head table, leaning on her cane, her expression dour.

Stephen Alexander and Bella sat across from her. Stephen looked awkward, while Lenora wore a barely suppressed smirk, eager for more scandal from this wedding.

At seven p.m. sharp, the doors to the hall opened.

Grey Ford walked in.

Today he wore a custom-fitted, pure black suit that added a touch of formality to his strikingly handsome face. Standing at six foot two, with broad shoulders and a slim waist, he had sharp, expressive eyes that could make countless women swoon with a single glance.

But those eyes now showed only irritation and indifference. His tie hung loose, as if he’d tossed it on without care.

Trailing behind him were two infamous playboys of London, Jonah Weber and Billy Cross.

Grey strode up to the ceremonial stage and glanced around. No bride. He scoffed. “Where is she? Wasn’t it supposed to be at seven? Did she take my advice and bolt—”

His words cut off as the side door of the hall opened.

Natalie walked in.

She wore a simple white dress, neatly tailored, cinched at the waist, the skirt falling just to her knees and revealing a pair of straight, pale legs. Her hair was free of crowns or veils, adorned only with a silver feather hairpin. She wore flat white shoes, moving gracefully and confidently.

For a moment, the entire hall went silent.

The dress should have been out of place at such an opulent wedding. Yet as she walked the aisle, her poise and confidence made everyone believe it suited her perfectly.

The mocking smile on Grey’s face froze.

He stared at Natalie for a solid five seconds.

In those five seconds, his gaze moved from her face to her waist, then back to her eyes. Those eyes were as clear as a mountain spring, dark as black grapes, curving into a smile as they met his.

“Seen enough, Mr. Ford?” Natalie asked as she approached him, tilting her head slightly. “If you’re finished, let’s sign.”

She handed him a pen.

Grey reflexively took it, then realized he was being steered. His expression darkened. “Natalie, are you doing this on purpose? Mrs. Hudson spent ages picking that dress, and you just switched it?”

“It was too big. Felt like I was wrapped in a bedsheet.” Natalie tilted her head. “If you’re upset about the money, I can compensate you.”

“You—”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the officiant interjected, dabbing at his sweat, “shall we proceed with the ceremony?”

Grey took a deep breath, suppressing his frustration. He had already decided. The marriage had to happen—Mrs. Hudson was holding his grandfather’s inheritance over his head. No wedding, no inheritance.

But he had plenty of ways to make this woman suffer: emotional neglect, living apart, extramarital affairs. What couldn’t he do?

When he signed, his signature was bold and aggressive, nearly tearing the paper.

Natalie’s signature, however, was neat and precise, every stroke deliberate.

During the ring exchange, Grey slid the ring onto her finger with such force it nearly broke her skin.

Natalie didn’t flinch. Instead, she gently took his hand, carefully placing his ring on his finger, even adjusting it to the right angle.

“All set.” She released his hand, stepped back, and nodded toward Mrs. Hudson in the audience. “Grandmother, the ceremony is complete.”

Mrs. Hudson’s stern face finally softened, showing her first smile of the evening.

During the toast, Grey unabashedly mingled with a drink in hand, flushed with alcohol alongside Jonah and Billy, leaving Natalie to handle the family.

The Alexanders’ side had a sparse turnout, mainly Stephen, Bella, and Bella’s daughter—Natalie’s half-sister, Kaiya.

Kaiya, a year younger than Natalie and spoiled from childhood, wore a champagne-colored dress and elaborate makeup. She stuck to Natalie like glue, forcing smiles as they toasted, all while secretly tugging at Natalie’s dress hem under the table.

By the third toast, Kaiya gasped dramatically, spilling her entire glass of red wine over Natalie’s white dress.

“Oh no, sister! I’m so sorry! It was an accident!” Kaiya exclaimed, hand to her mouth in mock horror, her eyes gloating.

Natalie looked down at the deep red stain spreading across her dress. She paused for a moment.

Then she looked up, still smiling. “It’s alright. I’ll go clean up.”

As she made her way to the restroom, she passed Grey’s table. Grey had his arm around Jonah, laughing heartily. He glanced at the stain on her dress and, instead of offering help, raised his glass. “Get changed before you come back, wife. This dress is too plain. Not as nice as your sister’s.”

Jonah and Billy burst into laughter.

Natalie didn’t break stride. She headed straight into the restroom.

In the mirror, the harmless ingénue turned on the faucet, washed her hands calmly, dried them, then pulled a small silver earring from her purse and pressed a button on its back.

The inside of the earring glowed faintly blue.

“President,” a deep male voice emerged from the earring, “I’ve compiled the information you requested on Grey Ford. Would you like to hear it now?”

Natalie smiled at her mirror reflection. “Go ahead.”