Left at the Altar, Stolen by the Enemy - Chapter 11: Chapter 11

I stared at the woman in front of me, baffled by her sheer audacity. How could anyone be so shameless?
"Let me get this straight—you dumped Henry because you thought he was blind, then swooped in to seduce Ethan and marry him. What happened to your 'unbreakable golden bond' with your first love? Or was that just another lie?"
Cynthia's eyes welled up as she yanked up her sleeves, exposing a patchwork of purple bruises.
"Ethan's a monster! He hits me!" she sobbed. "He says he was supposed to marry you, that I ruined everything. Now he wants to undo it all—and if I don't cooperate, he takes it out on me."
I was speechless. To them, love and marriage were just toys—something to toss aside the moment they got bored.
But I wasn't playing their game.
"Sorry, but Henry is my husband now. He's a person, not some pawn for you two to fight over. I'm not giving him up."
When I refused, Cynthia dropped to her knees outside my door, wailing that she wouldn't leave until I agreed.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Ethan. "Come get your wife now, or I'm calling the cops."
Minutes later, Ethan's men dragged Cynthia away. He lingered, his gaze heavy as it settled on me.
"Wendy, I can't just stand by while you throw yourself at a man like Henry. I saw him—just now—walking into a hotel with some woman."
My blood turned to ice.
No. It couldn't be true.
But Henry had texted earlier, saying he had "something important" tonight and might not make it home.
Before I could process it, Ethan shoved me into his car. We sped to the city's most luxurious hotel, where we waited in suffocating silence until—
There he was.
Henry strolled out, laughing, arm-in-arm with a stunning woman.
Ethan yanked me forward, triumph flashing in his eyes. "See? I told you he was no good."
I couldn't breathe. My mind screamed at me to run—to escape this nightmare before the tears came.
I spun around—only to trip and crash onto the pavement.
Henry was at my side instantly. "Wendy! Are you hurt?"
I slapped his hand away, but the tears came anyway, hot and humiliating.
Ethan shoved Henry back. "Back off, you cheating bastard!"
Henry blinked, utterly lost, his eyes darting between the woman behind him and me—a crumpled, crying mess on the ground.
Then he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Emily, fix this."
Emily?
Turns out, the "other woman" was his sister. She'd missed our wedding due to work but had flown in to deliver our gift. An emergency project had forced her to pull an all-nighter, and she'd dragged Henry along to help.
She'd planned to meet me tomorrow—until this disaster unfolded.
Mortification burned through me.
But Henry just grinned like an idiot. "Wendy… were you jealous?"
Ethan's face fell. The fight drained out of him as he watched us—Henry's arm around me, my fingers tangled in his.
He'd lost. For good.
"I'm sorry, Wendy." His voice cracked. "I wanted everything… but all I did was hurt you. Do you hate me?"
I looked at him, surprised by the calm in my own voice. "Hate you? No. Hate comes from love. And I don't love you anymore. Let's just… leave each other alone."
A long silence. Then his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"…I hope you're happy."
And just like that—eight years of love, lies, and pain dissolved into the past.
Life with Henry was peaceful. Perfect.
Except for one mystery he dodged every time I asked: Why had he married me?
I didn't get my answer until our three-year-old daughter, giggling during hide-and-seek, toppled a box in his study.
Photos spilled out. A diary flipped open.
And suddenly, I understood.
Years ago, a teenage Henry—heartbroken over his parents' crumbling marriage—ran away. Stranded and robbed, he'd been saved by a girl who gave him every penny she had.
Me.
He never forgot. But after his accident left him blind, he stayed away—until the day he heard I was engaged.
That's when the "cornea match" rumor surfaced.
The "business deal" with Cynthia? A lie.
The entire marriage scheme? A desperate play to win the girl who'd once saved him.
(The End)