Canceling The Wedding

Adriana

The ballroom of the Bellhaven Grand Hotel was a sea of imported white roses and cascading crystal. A string quartet played softly in the corner, entirely drowned out by the chatter of the city’s wealthiest elites. Waiters in crisp black vests drifted through the crowd, carrying silver trays loaded with vintage champagne.

The original Adriana had spent six months planning this engagement party. She had personally selected the silk draperies, the lighting, the menu, and the guest list. She had wanted everything to be perfect for the man she loved, blind to the fact that he was only using her to fund his survival in the coming apocalypse.

I stood near the grand archway, looking at the display of wealth, and felt nothing but cold resolve.

"There is my beautiful bride."

A hand slid around my waist, pulling me firmly against a tailored tuxedo. I didn't flinch, though my skin crawled at the contact. I turned my head and met the smiling face of Vincent Carlo Alvarado.

He looked exactly like a storybook prince. He had golden-blonde hair swept neatly back, bright blue eyes, and a charming smile that had secured him millions in venture capital. He squeezed my waist, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I turned my head just a fraction of an inch, letting his lips brush the air near my ear instead.

"You seem tense tonight, darling," Vincent murmured, keeping his voice low so the passing guests wouldn't hear. "Is the pressure getting to you?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Vincent," I said, keeping my tone light. "I am just eager for the night to truly begin."

Vincent smiled, completely missing the sharp edge in my words. "It’s a big step for both of us. Our families are finally coming together. Your father is thrilled, you know. The Mercado and Alvarado names, permanently joined."

Permanently joined until you poison my tea in three months, I thought.

"I'm sure my father is ecstatic," I replied, stepping out of his grip to grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "He always did love a good merger."

Vincent chuckled, straightening his cuffs. "Don't be so cynical, Adriana. Tonight is about us. Speaking of which, there is someone who wanted to congratulate you."

He gestured into the crowd. My grip on the champagne flute tightened as a young woman stepped forward.

Bianca Serrano wore a pale pink gown that made her look soft, fragile, and utterly innocent. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her wide doe eyes sparkled with unshed tears of happiness as she looked at us. She was the original novel’s heroine, the woman destined to survive the end of the world by Vincent’s side.

"Adriana," Bianca said softly, reaching out to touch my arm. I stepped back, letting her hand drop into empty air. Bianca blinked, a flash of hurt crossing her features. "Everything is so gorgeous. You did a wonderful job. I’m just so happy for you both."

"Thank you, Bianca," I said, my voice dropping in temperature. "It’s always a pleasure to see the people who support Vincent so intimately."

Vincent cleared his throat, shifting his weight. "Bianca has been a great friend to both of our families, Adriana. Play nice."

"I am always nice," I said, offering Bianca a razor-thin smile. "Enjoy the champagne, Bianca. Drink as much as you like. It's the last time I'll be paying for it."

Bianca’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Vincent frowned, but before either of them could question me, the event coordinator rushed over.

"Mr. Alvarado, Miss Mercado, it is time for the toast," the coordinator said, gesturing toward the grand stage at the front of the room.

"Duty calls," Vincent said, recovering his charming smile. He offered me his arm. "Shall we?"

"Lead the way," I said, ignoring his arm and walking ahead of him.

As I moved through the crowd, the guests parted for me. I felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on my back, judging my tailored white blazer and trousers, whispering about my lack of a traditional gown. I didn't care. Let them stare.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar face sitting at a VIP table near the front. Gabriel Thomas Reyes sat back in his chair, swirling a glass of dark amber liquor. Our eyes met through the crowd. He didn't smile, but he raised his glass a fraction of an inch in a silent salute. He was waiting for the show.

I reached the stage. The AV technician stood near the soundboard. I caught his eye and gave him a sharp, single nod. He tapped a button, and the massive projector screens behind the stage hummed to life, currently displaying a beautiful monogram of Vincent and my initials.

Vincent stepped up to the microphone. The string quartet stopped playing. A hush fell over the grand ballroom as the city’s elite turned their attention to the golden couple.

"Family, friends, distinguished guests," Vincent began, his voice echoing clearly across the room. "Thank you all for being here tonight to celebrate the most important moment of my life."

He turned to look at me, placing a hand over his heart. He was an excellent actor. If I hadn't seen his bank statements this morning, I might have believed the pure devotion shining in his eyes.

"When I first met Adriana, I knew she was the one," Vincent continued smoothly, playing the crowd perfectly. A few older women in the front row sighed in adoration. "She is brilliant. She is driven. She is the anchor that keeps me grounded. They say behind every successful man is an extraordinary woman, but I prefer to stand right beside her. Adriana, you are my heart, my future, and my entire world."

Applause erupted in the ballroom. Vincent beamed, soaking in the praise and the flashing cameras of the society reporters. He reached out and took my hand, pulling me toward the center of the stage. He held the microphone out to me.

"Say a few words, my love," he whispered.

I took the microphone. The cold metal grounded me. I looked out at the sea of faces—my father sitting near the front with my stepmother, both looking incredibly smug about the business merger. I saw Bianca standing near the edge of the stage, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. I saw Gabriel leaning forward in his chair, his dark eyes entirely focused on me.

I raised the microphone to my lips.

"Vincent is a man of many words," I started, my voice steady and clear over the speakers. "He speaks so beautifully about the future, about trust, and about standing side by side."

The crowd murmured in agreement. Vincent stood beside me, puffing his chest out slightly.

"But a marriage built on lies is just a business transaction," I continued. The tone of my voice shifted, losing all warmth. "And as the acting chairwoman of Mercado Holdings, I am terminating this transaction."

The ballroom went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop on the marble floor.

Vincent’s smile froze. He leaned in, his voice a frantic hiss. "Adriana, what are you doing? Is this a joke?"

I didn't look at him. I looked directly at the AV technician.

"Show them," I commanded into the microphone.

The screens behind me flickered. The elegant monogram vanished. In its place, a massive, high-definition photograph filled the wall. It was a picture of Vincent and Bianca Serrano, entering a private villa on the coast. Vincent had his hands buried in Bianca’s hair, kissing her passionately against the doorframe. The date and timestamp glowed bright red in the bottom corner: three days ago.

A collective, deafening gasp echoed through the ballroom. The society reporters immediately started snapping photos of the screen, the camera flashes blindingly bright.

"Adriana!" Vincent yelled, his voice cracking as he lunged for the microphone in my hand.

I stepped back neatly, dodging his grasp. "Next slide," I ordered.

The screen shifted. Now, it displayed a highly confidential bank transfer receipt. It showed two million dollars moving from a joint Mercado-Alvarado account directly into an offshore holding company registered to Bianca Serrano.

"Vincent Carlo Alvarado has spent the last year using my family’s money to fund a secret life with his mistress," I said, my voice echoing over the rising chaos in the room. "He has embezzled Mercado funds to purchase luxury gifts, private vacations, and real estate for Miss Serrano. He stood on this stage and called me his future, when in reality, I am just his bank."

Down in the crowd, Bianca let out a high-pitched sob, covering her face with her hands as people backed away from her. The whispers turned into vicious, pointed accusations. My father stood up, his face purple with rage, shouting at the security guards to turn the screens off.

"Turn it off!" Vincent screamed at the technician, his face red and sweating. He turned back to me, his eyes wild with panic. "Adriana, please, you have to stop this! I can explain! It’s out of context!"

"There is no context that excuses theft, Vincent," I said coldly.

"You're having an episode!" Vincent yelled, trying to save face in front of the reporters. "Someone get a doctor! She isn't thinking clearly!"

"I have never thought more clearly in my entire life," I fired back, my voice slicing through the noise. "There will be no wedding. There will be no merger. And as of this morning, there is no more money. I have frozen every joint account, canceled every credit card, and filed the paperwork to evict your family from the estate my father so generously allowed you to inhabit."

Vincent froze. The reality of my words slammed into him. The money was gone. The survival bunker he was secretly funding was gone. His entire status in high society was currently burning to ash in front of hundreds of witnesses.

He stared at me, his chest heaving, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. The charming prince was dead, replaced by the cornered, desperate coward the original Adriana had never been allowed to see.

I lowered the microphone. "It's over, Vincent. You lose."

Vincent let out a visceral, furious roar. His eyes darkened with pure rage, and before anyone on the stage could react, he charged directly at me.