Rejected Fiancée, Billionaire's Precious Wife

A few days later, Natalie stood in a small suburban church, clad in a plain white dress.

Today was her wedding day.

She was marrying a man she had never even met.

She couldn't spare a single cent for a wedding gown. All her money had gone toward the hospital bills for Hannah's surgery. So instead of a luxurious outfit, she made do with a simple, inexpensive dress, a small bouquet of white flowers, and a silk ribbon tied in her hair. Yet it made her an almost girlish air.

The pews were awkwardly empty, the silence echoing through the space. The groom still hadn't shown up. Only a few guests whispered amongst themselves.

"Don't worry, he's probably just held up in traffic," George said, trying to reassure her.

Natalie nodded, unable to ease the anxiety tightening in her chest.

The man she was about to marry was named Sebastian Klein. His reputation preceded him: lazy and aimless, keeping company with shady characters, and living off schemes and idleness.

The thought of binding her life to his sent a chill of dread through her. Yet she had no other choice.

Lauren, elegant in a lavender dress, surveyed the nearly empty church with a displeased pout. Her light makeup only accentuated her perfect features, and she naturally drew every eye.

"This is strange... Why hasn't the groom's family arrived yet?" She murmured irritably.

But Natalie couldn't have cared less about their absence. Her thoughts were fixed on Hannah, lying in a hospital bed, suspended between life and death.

She leaned toward Lauren, her voice low.

"Promise me you'll give me the money the second the ceremony is over."

That money was for the surgery. It was the reason she had sworn to her adoptive parents that she would go through with this marriage.

Lauren's smile was strained.

"Honestly, Natalie, you're being exhausting. We're family. I told you you'll get it. Can't you trust me for once?"

Beneath her soft tone was a sharp edge of irritation.

Just then, the church doors swung open.

Cassie made her entrance on a cloud of cloying perfume, her flashy jewelry glinting as she clung to her boyfriend's arm. Her arrogant smirk was a stark contrast to the bride's simplicity.

She sauntered toward Lauren and George with a studied nonchalance, clearly relishing the discomfort her presence caused. Cassie had stolen the man Natalie loved—a rich man—and helped force her into this miserable union with the Kleins' illegitimate son.

Seeing Natalie so fragile in her pale dress now, Steve, Cassie's boyfriend, felt a sharp pang in his chest. A flicker of painful remorse crossed his gaze.

All of this was his fault. One reckless night had shattered a love he'd believed was eternal. And now Natalie, the one who should have been his, was about to tie her life to another man.

He had sworn he wouldn't come to the ceremony. But Cassie had all but dragged him up the church steps, her grip on his arm fierce. He couldn't say no to her, not when he knew she was carrying his child.

From the moment he spotted Natalie, Steve couldn't tear his eyes away. He was a prisoner of her beauty, caught by the too-vivid memory of what they'd had. Cassie, beside him, was seething, her rage building as she watched his gaze fix on the woman she hated with every fiber of her being.

The years had erased nothing: the spotlight always seemed to find Natalie. Every gesture, every smile, effortlessly captured attention. Cassie, meanwhile, felt forever stuck in that shadow—the one cast by Natalie's grace.

The jealousy was a bitter acid in her gut. She suddenly snapped.

"Do you want me to claw your eyes out, Steve? What the hell does that bitch have that I don't? Why are you devouring her with your eyes?"

Then, her voice laced with venom, she added for all to hear, "Anyway, where is the groom? Late to his own wedding. What a joke. So reliable, right? Even his family couldn't be bothered to show up. They must be so ashamed of him. Poor things."

At home, Cassie was treated like a spoiled queen, her every whim indulged. She had never been taught restraint. But here, in the tense quiet of the church, her vulgarity was a spectacle. The whispers among the guests grew, a rising tide of gossip.

Natalie, who had been silent until now, took a small step forward. She lifted the hem of her dress slightly, and her clear, steady voice cut through the murmurs.

"Cassie, that's enough. This is a church. Watch your words. Where are the manners you were taught?"

Cassie froze. Her sister had never, ever spoken to her with such firmness. The image of the docile, patient Natalie she was used to walking all over had just shattered.

A heavy silence fell over the pews. And then, the large double doors at the back of the church swung open with a long, drawn-out creak.

A man stood silhouetted in the doorway, tall and straight, framed by the blinding light from outside. The sun carved his figure with an almost unreal precision.

He moved forward slowly, his steps measured. He fastened the button on his suit jacket and smoothed a hand over the fabric, as if brushing off the dust from a long journey. His dark gaze swept over the attendance with quiet authority, and then he lifted his head.

The light caught his face, revealing features of such disturbing perfection. The air in the room seemed to stand still. It felt as if every breath had fallen into rhythm with his steps. In that moment, it was as if no one else in the church existed and there was only him.