Left At The Altar นิยาย & เรื่องราว

“It’s going to be a beautiful day.” But it wasn’t. For Leana, the ceremony was a blur of white and gold, a beautiful lie set to the soundtrack of string quartets and sniffles. She stood at the altar as her mother’s maid of honor, feeling Ryan’s presence from the groom’s side like a constant, burning brand.

I walked out and walked down the aisle to meet Zion at the altar. The sex was good but it wasn’t enough for me to go through that hell again.

And that would just make it work. I excused myself from the ladies, eager to hunt down my husband. He looked so dashing and sexy, cleaned up nicely in that tux when he faced me at the altar. Zakh did the honors of walking me down the aisle. With the summertime blooms in the gardens behind the mansion, it was silly to consider having the ceremony anywhere else. Alisa was my maid of honor too, and it was her I found before Anatoli. Sniffling and wiping at her eyes, she leaned on Zakh. Maybe they were dancing. I couldn't tell because they weren't moving much to the music, more like swaying.

“You can either stand beside me today and prove you’re capable of more, or you can walk away. But if you choose the latter, don’t expect me to come after you.” He stared at me, his chest heaving with frustration. For a moment, I thought he might walk away. But then he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he muttered, climbing back into the car. The rings sat securely in my pocket as Ethan and I stood at the altar. The venue was breathtaking—white roses cascading down the aisle, golden chandeliers casting a warm glow, and every seat filled with family, friends, and acquaintances who’d come to witness this moment.

That thought shifts too easily into another. Adrian left me at the altar too. My throat tightens the instant I think of it. I imagined our wedding a hundred different ways. Light, flowers, music, people smiling at us as if our future was something worth celebrating. What I got instead was humiliation, grief, and the kind of heartbreak that left a bruise long after the moment itself was over.

The smirk is still on his lips. He turns and walks down the altar steps without me. His brothers follow. His cousins. Then the rest of the Valenti family files out of the pews in a smooth, organised sequence, as though this too had been choreographed, and I stand at the altar in my wedding dress watching my husband leave his own ceremony, and I am still standing there when the last of them reaches the door. Alone.

The clock was ticking with twelve minutes left before the ceremony was supposed to begin. The wedding car that my bride, Teagan, and I sat in stopped at the curb. The church doors stood open a hundred yards away, ready for our arrival. My parents and relatives were gathered outside with the officiant, photographer, wedding coordinator, and the rest of the bridal party. The wedding coordinator’s voice came through my earpiece. “Parker, you’re clear to head in. We’re starting at 9 sharp.” I was about to tell the driver to go when the door of the groomsmen’s SUV behind us swung open. “Hold up. I forgot my tie.” That was enough to halt the entire procession. Teagan unbuckled her

After ten years of loving Dante Russo—the Don of the Russo family—I was finally about to marry him. But before the ceremony began, my adopted younger sister, Bianca, sent us a photo from the scene of a car accident. Dante and my brother immediately left the church. Twenty minutes later, Dante’s men had already confirmed that it was nothing more than a minor collision. There had been no attack, and no one was injured. But Bianca was having a panic attack, so neither of them would come back. I reminded Dante that the priest and the guests from both families were still waiting for him. He said over the phone, “Nothing will happen if the wedding is delayed for a few hours. Bianca can’t be alone

Then Luna Rigina left to join Alpha Griffith as they’d be the first to walk the aisle and ascend the stage stairs. Then we followed. We walked through the packhouse until we came to the door. I locked arms with each of my parents. The door was opened, and we began slowly walking down the flower-strewn path. I’d never seen the courtyard so full; with so many guests, there was no room for seating, so everyone was forced to stand for the ceremony.

Dad said. Carlton smiled weakly, stepping back to watch. Dad took my hand in his, his grip warm and steady, and walked me the rest of the way down the aisle. At the end of the platform, framed by massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows and walls of fresh white blooms, Dario was waiting for me at the altar.