Left at the Altar, Stolen by the Enemy - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Book: Left at the Altar, Stolen by the Enemy Chapter 8 2025-10-15

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Ethan stood frozen, shaking his head in stunned disbelief. "No... this can't be happening..."
Henry pulled me close, steering us toward the banquet hall while tossing orders to the security team. "Keep outsiders out - I won't have them ruining this night!"
The heavy doors swung shut behind us, muffling Ethan's broken pleas. "Wendy... you can't do this to me..."
When the latch finally clicked, I exhaled the breath I'd been holding. Guilt prickled at me as I met Henry's gaze.
"Henry, I need to understand - why did you marry me? Whether it's real feelings or just to spite Ethan... he's not wrong about our history. Eight years is a long time. If this embarrasses you, I'll explain everything to the guests. And if there's ever anything—"
My words dissolved as warm lips captured mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. When we finally broke apart, my heart threatened to pound right out of my chest.
"You're my wife," Henry murmured, his thumb tracing my jaw. "The only woman I ever wanted. Your past? That's on me for not finding you sooner. You said 'yes,' Wendy - no takebacks."
Before I could process his words, he swept me onto the stage. The crowd gasped as he dropped to one knee, sliding the diamond onto my finger with ceremonial gravity.
"Wendy Carter, richer or poorer, I'm yours for life."
The rest passed in a champagne-fueled haze - toasts, laughter, Henry's hand perpetually at the small of my back. By night's end, I'd barely touched my drinks while he swayed pleasantly against me.
"Baby... my head..." he slurred in the limo, nuzzling into my neck.
The penthouse suite doors hadn't even closed before his hands were everywhere. A damp washcloth later, he pinned me to the mattress with predatory focus.
"Finally mine," he growled between kisses. "Every damn part of you."
Dawn painted the sky before exhaustion claimed me. I woke to shrill ringing - Henry's side of the bed already cold.
"Girl, you should've seen Ethan's face!" My best friend crowed through the phone. "His wedding's canceled. I leaked your eight-year history to that viral blogger - the internet's crucifying that homewrecking bitch Cynthia!"
She continued gleefully, "Men are trash. Doesn't want you until someone else does? Pathetic. Word is he camped outside your suite all night."
I blocked Cynthia's socials without a second thought. Their drama felt like someone else's lifetime.
The scent of bacon announced Henry's return, apron-clad with a breakfast tray. "Should've slept in, sweetheart," he teased, eyeing the love bites peeking above my collar.
I yanked the duvet over my flaming cheeks, only for him to bundle me into a cocooned embrace. By the time we untangled ourselves, the heart-shaped eggs had gone cold.
That evening, he took me to meet his family at their estate. His mother pressed an heirloom necklace into my palm - the final seal on our new beginning.

End of Left at the Altar, Stolen by the Enemy Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to Left at the Altar, Stolen by the Enemy book page.