Chapter {2}

{NYRA}

The words spilled from my mouth, sharp and unforgiving, cutting through every heart like a two‑edged sword.

I didn’t bother to look at Draven. I didn’t need to. I knew he was stunned, shaken by the gravity of my words.

I walked up to my parents, their faces already carved with questions… expressions that demanded explanations I wasn’t sure I was ready to give.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together, trying to keep my emotions steady.

By now, reporters surrounded us, recorders thrust forward, digging for headlines.

“Ms. Nyra, can you tell us what happened today?”

The mic hovered inches from my lips. My throat tightened, but no words came.

“What made you suddenly back out of the wedding?”

My pulse, hammered. I wanted to vanish into the floor.

“Ma’am, the public is dying to know… what went wrong.”

Their voices rose in unison, pressing closer, suffocating me.

---

“Stupid girl… Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

His words struck first, then his hand. My pale cheek stung from the slap, but the shame burned deeper.

Silence swallowed the room. Even the maids froze, waiting for his next eruption.

Dad wasn’t going to forgive me.

He had invited business partners, stakeholders, and the media to witness what was meant to be my perfect day.

My wedding. My moment.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” my voice failed me, turning sour, lumps building in my throat.

I faced him in the grand mansion he built with his own hands — a symbol of pride and power.

Across the room, my mom lingered at a distance. Her eyes avoided mine as if I carried some indescribable disease.

His shoulders tensed. His strong posture intimidated every presence and object.

“Sorry doesn’t fix the damage you’ve caused.”

“You’re such a disgrace.”

The maids bowed their heads, terrified of being the next victim.

No one dared exhale too loudly. The grandfather clock ticked in the corner, each second sharp as a blade.

They had grown used to the daily drama echoing through its sterile white walls.

“What the hell were you thinking, Nyra? You made us a laughing stock to the public. That includes the family name.”

And that was it.

Their reputation came first. Nothing else.

My happiness meant nothing.

They never cared to ask why I was hurting. Why I backed out of the wedding.

The selfishness coming from them should be studied at the institute.

Back in college, whenever I was harassed by jealous students, his words echoed in my mind:

“The Kingswell family is never known for weakness. I won’t have you throwing dust on my name.”

“I’ve worked so hard to build this empire. And I’ll not let you make a mess out of it.”

“But Dad,” my voice broke.

My fingers trembled as they caressed my bruised cheek. “I caught Draven— speaking with his lover.”

My voice snapped, but I forced the words out. “H— he never loved me.”

“I was just an easy tool for him. I didn’t mean a single thing. He used me to take his father’s company.”

“Please… believe me,” I begged, desperate to convince him.

“Do you want me to spend my future with that kind of person?” I searched his face for comfort, fury, anything. Hoping my words reconciled with him.

But all I saw was disbelief.

Draven wasn’t who they thought he was. He hid his sexual life from me, tucked behind layers of charm and ambition.

I thought he was special. He was my hope.

But I was wrong. Clearly… he wasn’t.

“He was still going to marry you, Nyra. Don’t be so dramatic and naively stupid.”

His words sliced through me like glass.

“Draven was going to put a ring on your finger. You should be grateful for the life we gave you,” he spat, as if gratitude could erase betrayal.

I couldn’t believe it.

All my life with them suddenly felt like a performance. An object to be raised.

Not a daughter.

A prize.

When would I ever receive the love and warmth I longed for?

My fists slammed against the doorframe. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care.

‘‘Do you even love me at all?’’

I barked, running into my room, slamming the door behind me.

Missed calls lit up my screen — Zarina’s name, over and over.

And then, the one name I couldn’t bear to see… Draven.

All the emotions I had suppressed rushed out like a river.

I was a mess, not just mentally but physically.

One moment I cried, the next… I was gone, lost to sleep.

«««««

A loud yet gentle knock pulled me out of miserable, sweet sleep.

I darted my lazy head toward it, just enough to see my best friend transfixed, sorrow in her eyes.

“HEY!!!”

Zarina hugged me, her rich perfume, strong like liquor in an ancient vase, stealing away the old scent in the room.

“I’m sorry I got you worried,” I muttered, lumps in my throat.

A total mess.

My wedding dress lay crumpled on the ground, its fabric heavy with dust and grief, no longer white but gray with betrayal.

“Shhh… You don’t have to say anything, I’m here now,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against mine, arms tightening as if she could shield me from the world.

Zarina was the only one who truly supported me. My parents’ affection — zero.

Then, in the cafeteria. Many times she saved my ass from bullies and obnoxious jerks.

As days passed, our bond grew stronger, leading others to mistake us for sisters.

“We’re best friends; I should have known he was such an asshole, Nyra. But I failed to notice that.”

We stayed in each other’s arms before disengaging.

I noticed discomfort and fear in her eyes, so I asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You can tell me, okay?” I assured her, though my heart thumped and my palms sweated.

Still, I was curious.

Her silence hit me deeply.

“The ‘X’… have you checked it?” She dropped it slowly, heavy.

The headline read:

‘The only daughter of the Kingswell left her husband‑to‑be, right on the altar. What could be the reason?’

‘This was a huge slap on her parents’ faces. Sadly, she doesn’t portray the ideal daughter title of a wealthy business billionaire.’

The section overflowed with hateful comments from strangers who didn’t know the full story.

At this point, I hated myself for being nosy enough to check.

“My parents…” I shuddered. They must have seen the trending news and harsh comments.

Everything felt surreal.

I wished the ground would swallow me up.

At least, I’d be guilt‑free, away from the backlash.

While grieving, drowning in sadness, and bottling up tears, my phone rang.

Guess who it was?

His call.

The continuous ringing left me no choice. Just as I reached for the phone, Zarina snatched it from my hands.

Her chance to attack Draven. “Now listen carefully, you bastard. If you ever call this number again, I swear…”

“Mr. Draven drank too much,” a calm voice cut through. “We can’t leave him here. He asked that you come alone… to the VIP lounge.”

And that was it. The line went dead.

“I need to go!!” My voice was sharp and low, but loud enough for her to hear.

Zarina froze, stiff as if she’d seen a ghost. She probably thought I was insane.

Well… she guessed right. I was starting to lose it.

My thoughts scattered, my mind unsettled by everything.

I needed clarity… and sitting here wasn’t going to help.

“Are you serious? Right now, Nyra?” she asked, trying to reason with me.

I didn’t answer. My silence said more than words.

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not,” I stated firmly. “This is between the two of us. Don’t worry… I’ll be fine.”

I was going alone — alone to meet him.

My heart thudded against my ribs. I knew I was walking into danger, but clarity demanded it.

And I was going.