A Pawn In His Dirty Game

Valerie 🎀

I adjusted the sleeves of my wedding dress as an ominous feeling cloaked me.

Murmurs erupted in the crowd , a few uncomfortable glances were shared and I stood there clutching my bouquet, my smile frozen in place.

He'll come.

He had to.

He promised to.

But the doors at the end of the aisle remained shut.

My breath hitched and my trembling fingers tightened around the bouquet of flowers as the realization hit me like a brick.

Micheal wasn't coming.

Brenda, my best friend stepped closer , her lips set in a grim line and her expression, crestfallen.

"Val,I need you to be strong," she whispered solemnly and I immediately knew that something was wrong.

" What...what do you mean ? My throat closed up.

" Where is he ?

" He is not coming," she whispered gently, her eyes glistened with tears, " He left a note, he left with Cara."

The bouquet slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a soft thud.

My vision blurred. A cold rush of disbelief flooded my veins. I looked around the room. My mother was covering her mouth, mortified. Guests were already whispering, some pulling out their phones.

My knees gave way and Brenda reached out to steady me but I yanked my arm away.

" No, no, it's not true." I muttered to myself.

This must be a joke.

" I'm so sorry" she whispered, tears in her eyes.

I just stood there, numb. Humiliated. Shattered.

Then I heard my father’s voice cutting through the chaos.

“Get her out of here,” he said to one of his men.

“No!” I shouted. “I’m fine and don't you dare touch me!

I glared at one of the men trying to get hold of me and he took a step back.

“Valerie,” my dad stepped closer. “Come with me. Now.”

I was still in daze when I found myself outside the church.

"No, Cara wouldn't do that to me." I murmured to myself.

But the glint in my father’s eyes, humiliation, rage, something darker, told me otherwise.

“I warned you,” he growled. “Warned you about that lowlife. About not holding onto him. And now look at us,look at me, in front of all these people.”

" Do you know what would happen if the press get wind of this? He continued.

" The investors would pull out their shares and just like that all my hardwok would go down the drain because of you.

My eyes snapped up to him and I feel tears building up in them.

" You don't really care about me, do you? I asked him.

" Val—

" I just got stood up at the altar." I yelled at his face and that seem to shut him up.

"But you didn't ask if I was fine."

I let out a bitter chuckle and shook my head.

What was I expecting from a selfish person like him.

Unable to take it anymore , I fled leaving everything behind._

______

Days later, I sat in my room, hiding from the world.

The silence was the only thing that dulled the ache in my head. I hadn’t left my penthouse since that day. The curtains stayed drawn, the lights dim. I lived in shadows now, where shame couldn’t find me so easily.

The press camped outside like vultures, flashing cameras at my windows, waiting for me to show up . My phone buzzed non-stop with notifications.

I ignored Brenda 's text asking if I was okay and I clicked on an article as curiosity gnawed at me.

Big Mistake.

The headline hit me like a punch to the gut:

“Runaway Groom: Socialite Valerie Hampton Left at the Altar.

Beneath it was a photo. My photo. A close-up of my tear-streaked face, mascara bleeding down my cheeks like ink on ruined paper. My humiliation has gone viral.

A sob caught in my throat, bitter and raw. I threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying crack.

But nothing broke as loudly as I had.

Enough.

I was done brooding. Done crying over that loser.I need to get back to work.

Peeling the duvet off, I marched over to my closet like I was going to war, war against those that wanted my downfall.

" You are Valerie Hampton, you don't break, you bury"

I gave myself a pep talk as I got dressed in a sharp black pencil skirt , silk blouse and heels sharp enough to stab.

I managed to escaped the prying eyes of the press but as soon as my driver pulled up at the back entrance of the office building,they swarmed me like bees.

" Valerie,over here!

“Is it true your sister stole your fiancé ?

“Did you know about the affair?”

“Are you still the CEO, or is your father forcing you out?”

I kept walking like their words didn’t claw at my skin.

But then—

" Valerie, how does it feel to be stood up at the altar." A lady with a cocky smile asked and I scoffed.

How does she think it felt, refreshing?

I squinted my eyes as I read the name on the tag around her neck.

Mara Rivera from ABC news. She looks fresh out of college, too bad, she was getting fired today.

I entered the building, my heels clicking against the floor .

The usually busy lobby froze. Conversation was cut short . Phones on silent.

In my peripheral vision, a guy was almost turning green from holding his breath for too long.

I smirked. Oh lawd, I miss this.

Clara, my clumsy yet hardworking personal assistant came running breathlessly and met me halfway.

I arched my eyebrows at her disheveled state, eyes wide like she'd seen a ghost.

" Ma'am, I didn't know you were coming in," she rushed out, catching her breath.

“I got stood up, Clara, not hospitalized,” I said coolly, brushing past her into my office. The click of my heels echoed on the marbled floor.

“Right,” she muttered under her breath.

"What’s my schedule for the day?”

She blinked. “Nothing’s on it. Your father canceled everything after…well…” Her voice trailed off.

I didn’t let her to finish the sentence.

“He doesn’t get to make decisions for me,” I snapped. “Reschedule everything. I want a full calendar by noon.”

Clara nodded with a mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.”

“And…?” I prompted, eyeing her hesitance.

“You heard the news about Ursula, right?”

The words barely registered before my attention snapped to the two employees loitering near the breakroom .

“She deserves it,” one of them snickered. “I’ve watched that clip like, five times. Total disaster."

My jaw clenched. My fists balled at my sides. The audacity.

“you might as well say it to my face,” I said, my voice slicing through the air.

They both spun around, pale as ghosts. One dropped her phone.

“M-Miss Hampton, we didn’t mean—”

“Save it,” I cut in coldly. “Before the end of the day, I want your resignation letters on my desk.”

“But—”

“Did I stutter?”

“N-No, ma’am.” They scurried off like cockroaches.

Clara stood frozen beside me, wide-eyed.

I turned to her. “And if I hear one more word about my personal life being office gossip, the entire floor’s going with them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said quickly, falling in step behind me as I resumed walking.

"What about the deal with Mr.Ottawa ?

" About that....".

My steps faltered, " Clara?

" I'm sorry, ma'am but Mr.Wellington took the deal."

I froze .

" Zachary Wellington ?

She nodded, her face turning red.

Rage filled me and I spun around.

That asshole . He is going to get it from me.

"Ma'am, you have a meeting with your Father in like thirty minutes from now." Clara called from behind me, her voice filled with panic.

" Reschedule it".

" Where to , ma'am?

The driver asked as I got into the car.

" Wellingtons Corporation."

***

“Ma’am, you can’t just enter—he’s in a meeting!” Zachary’s assistant called out, scrambling to catch up as I stomped to his office.

I didn’t slow down neither did I knock. I shoved the door open without hesitation.

And there he was.

Zachary Wellington. Leaning back in his leather chair like he owned the damn planet. A crisp navy suit hugged his broad shoulders, his tie loosened but everything about him screamed control.

The second his cold eyes met mine, he smiled.

That smug, infuriating smile.

“Valerie,” he drawled, like my name was a private joke. “Uncultured as always. It’s nice to see you.”

I scoffed. “I wish I could say the same.”

I pushed to his desk and slammed my palm on it hard enough that it shook the pen holder.

“Why did you steal the Ottawa contract?” I snapped. “He was my client. Mine. And you just had to steal it."

Zachary didn’t flinch. He simply put his finger under his chin, the smirk deepening.

“How else was I going to make you come to me?”

I blinked.

“What?”

He nodded, casual. “You wouldn’t have answered my calls. I needed your attention. Mission accomplished.”

“You’re insane,” I muttered, stepping back.

“And yet, you’re here,” he said softly, almost like it pleased him.

“I came to reclaim what’s mine.”

He chuckled. “Always so dramatic.”

I pulled out the chair across from his desk and sat, ignoring his raised brow. “Let’s talk. What do you want, Zachary?”

“You.”

I froze.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone light but there was an edge beneath it. “You. All of you."

I stared at him, trying to make sense of his words.

"What nonsense are you saying?

" Marry me."