The Latecomer

Aurora “Rorie” Montgomery never expected to wake up married to a billionaire, but when she impulsively takes the place of an heiress forced into an arranged marriage, she finds herself trapped in a world of power, contracts, and ruthless business deals. Nathan Westfield, CEO and notorious workaholic, agreed to marry for convenience—not love. His only conditions? His wife must be discreet, loyal, and provide a future heir. Rorie has secrets. Nathan has rules. And neither of them expected to actually want this marriage to work. From the moment she steps into Nathan’s world, Rorie challenges him at every turn. She’s nothing like the obedient wife he anticipated, and she refuses to be a silent player in his life. But when Nathan discovers her true identity, instead of walking away, he protects her—publicly and mercilessly shutting down anyone who dares to question her place at his side. As past betrayals resurface and enemies threaten to unravel their carefully crafted arrangement, Rorie realizes the greatest danger isn’t losing her secret—it’s losing her heart. Because somewhere between the heated arguments, the stolen glances, and the moments where Nathan looks at her like she’s his entire world, she starts to wonder… What happens when a marriage built on lies starts to feel real? Perfect for fans of slow-burn romance, enemies-to-lovers tension, and billionaire love stories with high stakes and sizzling chemistry, The Last Minute Bride is a tale of deception, power, and a love that refuses to be just another deal.

Three years after I had made my girlfriend, Sophia Lambert, sleep with her superior, she finally went from being his lover to becoming his wife. Meanwhile, I barely made it out alive after years of being undercover in a drug trafficking ring. My body was broken beyond repair, and I had returned home only to wait for death. Sophia arrived with one of her arms wrapped around her husband’s during a charity visit for the poor. When she saw me standing in line for relief aid, she let out a mocking laugh. “Benjamin, how did you end up like this?” I hunched my shoulders. I hid the First-Class Merit Medal for Narcotics Enforcement I had received not long ago. After a long silence, I asked, “Are you happy now?” She twirled the diamond ring on her finger in a lackadaisical manner. “The wedding’s next week. What do you think? “If you want, you can even become a groomsman. Orlando believes in diversity. His groomsmen comprises of different kinds of guys. He’s just missing someone disabled.” I shook my head and turned down her offer. “No, I won’t be able to make it.” The poison in my body had already spread to my heart. I only had a few days left.

The day my parents travel thousands of miles to discuss our wedding, Teresa Harper and her family have yet to show up. After my third call goes straight to voicemail, Mom smiles and reassures me. "They're probably just stuck in traffic. It's fine, your dad and I can wait." Except we wait for three hours. My parents' expressions slowly shift from bright anticipation to quiet heartache. Dad tugs at his ill-fitting blazer for the 100th time. Finally, his eyes well up, and his voice cracks as he asks, "Colin… does it really have to be her? "We're just simple country folks. We know we don't have much, and we're nothing compared to city folks. We even agreed when they asked you to be their live-in son-in-law. "I don't want to break you two up. I'm just worried. You're thousands of miles away from home out here. If things get bad down the road, your mom and I… won't be able to just rush over and comfort you." Digging my fingernails into my palms, I force a smile and help them up from their seats. "Dad, Mom, let's go home. The wedding is off."

On the day of Claire Brooks, my wife's funeral, a grieving stranger arrived carrying white lilies. After placing them beside her portrait, he walked straight toward me. "I've envied you for thirty years," he said. Confused, I frowned as his eyes lingered on her photograph. "For thirty years, she gave me everything—her love, her time, her money. She never held anything back." He paused before looking at me with quiet resentment. "The only thing she forbade was letting you know I existed." My heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?" He let out a bitter chuckle. "It means that while you were married to her for thirty years, she was with me for thirty years too." Then he walked away, leaving me frozen beside her coffin. I stared after him, struggling for breath. Thirty years of betrayal and lies. The shock sent my blood pressure surging, and I collapsed in the middle of the funeral hall. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Claire and I were supposed to be married. "Nathan Brooks, will you spend the rest of your life with me?" After a long silence, I took the ring from her hand and, without a moment's hesitation, threw it down the drain.

There is a War being fought that stretches beyond eternity. Waging that War are men and angels and demons and creatures and beings beyond time and space. Thrust into this conflict is a foundling boy who knows nothing of this War but is integral to tipping the balance toward whomever can control him. As a child, Hunter’s world is attacked, and, along with a few faithful retainers and allies, his mother escapes with him, while his father, using his own life as forfeit, stays behind to ensure those he loves escape. Mother and child are pursued. Their retainers are killed while protecting them until they are able to get out from under the net thrown by their enemies. Now, far, far away, not knowing the fate of her husband or people and with no way of getting back, she has only herself to raise and protect her son. This is the story of what comes after, of a boy alone, having raised himself, by himself, for half his life. Then the powers that inform and rule that world become aware of him, of his power, his potential. In their ignorance and conceit, they awaken the true nature of the child, and a war, of unimaginable proportions to shake the heavens, comes to their doorstep, and the boy they thought to use, and later kill, is the only thing that can save them.

My fiancé, Lucas Vance, had an absolute rule: he never, under any circumstances, answered a phone call after 9:00 p.m. Even during the most passionate days of our relationship, he would hang up without hesitation the second the clock struck nine. One night, I came home late and realized a stranger was tailing me in the dark. Panic-stricken, I called Lucas, only to be met with a voice dripping with utter annoyance. "Can you learn to respect my schedule for once? I'm hanging up." That night, I sat alone in the cold lights of the police station, filling out a police report by myself. Yet, back then, I convinced myself I didn't even have the right to blame him. But tonight, while using his laptop, I accidentally stumbled across his synced call logs. There, staring back at me, was a continuous record spanning from 9:00 p.m. to 9:00 a.m. the following morning. 12 hours straight. Every night. For five long years. I knew the number perfectly. It belonged to his mother's star student and his trusted teaching assistant. For a moment, my spine felt stiff. I sat frozen in front of the screen until my legs went numb. Then, without a word, I shut the laptop and canceled our upcoming appointment to register our marriage. That late-night line was never meant for me. And I no longer wanted to wait.