Elena Bride Novels & Stories

Her red dress probably cost more than a car, and she wore it with the confidence of someone who'd never doubted her place in the world. "Killian, darling!" Her voice was melodic, cultured, with just a hint of a European accent. She glided over to us, air-kissing both his cheeks with the familiarity of old friends. Or maybe something more. "Elena." Killian's voice warmed in a way it never did for me. "I didn't know you'd be attending." "I couldn't miss the summit." Her eyes—sharp and assessing—finally landed on me. "And you must be the mysterious bride. How... unexpected."

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 The garden is alive again, and Elena notices. She sits beneath the shade of the pergola, wrapped in a light shawl, her frail hands rest in her lap. Sunlight dapples over her hair, but her cheeks hold more color than I’ve seen since I arrived. “All this,” she says, sweeping her hand toward the rows of roses and tulips yet to blossom, “it is you, cara. You’ve brought life back to this house.”

(Sienna) My phone had forty-seven notifications. Then fifty-two. Then sixty, in the time it took me to process that number. The first thing I saw was a headline. SWIFT SCANDAL: Billionaire dumps bride at altar for her SISTER — and we have the receipts. Below it, grainy but unmistakable: a hotel corridor. A man pressing a woman against a wall. His hand in her hair. Her hands at his shirt. Me. Six weeks ago. Heathrow.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see your foot.” “You…” The woman in the red dress was enraged, but she couldn’t do anything as the Calimer family was more powerful than her family. She managed to smile and walk away. But then, she went straight to Elena who just finished dancing with Adrian and sat down. Adrian went to bring drinks, so Elena was alone. The woman in the red dress came with her friends. “You must be Elena Aldridge. The bride of the city!” Her words were both a praise and an insult to her.

And I need to learn the rules fast. The first test came quietly. A young, elegantly dressed socialite leaned toward her table, whispering loudly enough for Elara to hear: “Who even is she? Did he really choose a florist? This is absurd.” Elara’s fingers curled around the edge of her chair. Her voice was soft, but steady: “I… I’m the bride. That’s all that matters tonight.” The socialite smirked. “Brave words for someone who’s clearly out of her depth.”

I dug my nails into my palm, forcing myself to maintain a calm, professional expression. "Ms. Greenfield, do you have any other requests for the wedding?" Anna tilted her head, thought for a moment, then suddenly spoke up. "Oh, right. The entire floor has to be covered with imported cashmere carpets. My wedding dress is pure silk. My boyfriend bought it for me. It can't snag even a little. Money doesn't matter. My boyfriend has plenty of it." I almost laughed when I heard that. Victor. The poor student I had personally lifted up. The boy who once couldn't even scrape together five dollars, now a billionaire CEO. What took others twenty years to achieve, I helped him accomplish in just three.

“Miss Christine sure is delusional. Mr. Vincent is the Godfather of the Medici family. He’s worth billions. In New York, anyone with status treats him with the utmost respect.” “Isn’t he getting married to his fiancée in five days? And she’s saying he’s the love of her life? Does he even know who she is? Every Cinderella dreams of marrying into wealth, but not just anyone off the streets can be the Godfather’s woman.” I walked out of the hospital and, in a daze, got onto the subway. At that moment, my phone vibrated. When I checked it, I saw that Elena had sent several photos in a row. They were wedding photos of her and Vincent, taken in Central Park. The wedding dress she wore was the same

Elizabeth's eyes immediately filled with tears. "You look..." She paused. "Exactly like your mother did." Elena froze. "I do?" Elizabeth nodded, smiling through her tears. "Richard would have been unable to stop crying." Elena looked at her reflection. For a long moment... She didn't see the powerful chairwoman. Or the woman who had returned from death. She simply saw... A bride. One who finally had the chance to choose love instead of revenge. She smiled. A genuine smile. One untouched by hatred.

Katherine was at lost for words but decided to open up to her "I overheard his discussion with his assistant. His grandparents refused to hand over their family's business to him unless he is married, so he wants to rent a bride for a year which is the duration his grandparents gave him that his marriage will last before he becomes the owner of the Baldwin Empire. As a punishment to me for eavesdropping on his discussion, he decided to make Felicity his rented bride" she shuddered as she mentioned Felicity as a rented bride.

"You may kiss the bride." Her longs nails were digging her own palm as she fisted her hands that harshly. The look on master Alejandro's cold eyes was still the same as she felt him stepping ahead towards her and reaching for the hem of her long thin veil, which was covering her face. Unwrapping her elegant features in his display, he lifted the veil off. Unknowing her heart started beating faster, this day was destined to come one day and it came. Lifting her long eyelashes up to look at her groom's face Genelia only found coldness but his eyes unexpected was staring at her holding some foreign emotions... something which confused the guts of the royal bride.