Mal's Wedding Dress

Warning: 18+ This novel contains explicit adult content, strong language, manipulation, graphic violence, blood, and mature situations. Read at your own risk or pleasure. He remarried her best friend… while she was still calling him her husband. Madden Callista thought the worst thing in her life was the darkness creeping into her vision. She was wrong, it was the darkness living in her marriage. She loved Daelan Grey with a blind, unshakable faith. When he slid documents across the table and told her they were “just business,” she signed them without hesitation. When he reassured her with soft kisses and steady hands, she believed him. When he promised forever, she gave him everything, her trust, her wealth, her name. She never imagined those signatures were erasing her. The day Callista walked into the grand wedding hall, she thought she was surprising her husband. Instead, she walked into a nightmare dressed in white. Daelan stood at the altar exchanging vows with Elysia. Elysia, her old best friend. Elysia, who once laughed with her over coffee, she now wore the smile of a thief. When she screamed that Daelan was her husband, whispers rippled through the crowd. Cameras turned but Daelen didn’t deny her. He simply lifted a file for everyone to see. “We divorced five years ago,” he announced, voice cold and measured. He had rewritten her entire existence. She's no longer the CEO of the brand Avenior but now a NOBODY. “Kiss me at my husband's wedding,” She whispered in a stranger’s ear, her breath reeking of alcohol. (A drug lord)

"The five hundred thousand has already made you my wife." After he was betrayed by his best, friend all hotelier Dylan Vergara wants is revenge but resourceful and feisty Ella came as a surprise and the feelings he once had for her that were beginning to surface hadn’t been part of his plan. Blackmailed into a marriage of convenience to pay her family's debt, Ella loathes the arrogant young billionaire who thinks the entire world revolves around him. Caught between her feelings

When I was ten years old, both my parents passed away. My sister, Brianna, and I only had each other left. We were tormented at the orphanage before the Larsons adopted us. They doted on Brianna and me, and even allowed their daughter, Vivian Larson, to get engaged to me when I was 20 years old. It was a wonderful tale of love. Vivian didn't let any of us down. She would have given me the moon if she could, and she loved me with all her heart. During the ten years we spent with the Larsons, Brianna and I led a good life and never suffered at all. The night before we got married, Vivian took out a treasured bottle of vintage wine. It was to be served at our wedding. However, I poisoned the wine and killed everyone in the Larson family, including my own sister.

Three days before my wedding, Eric Foreman's childhood love returned to the country with her terminally ill mother. She wanted to marry Eric to fulfill her mother's dying wish. I objected furiously to it in my last life, and Eric eventually rejected Naomi Corbin's request. Naomi appeared with her mother's funeral picture in the middle of our wedding and accused Eric of being heartless. Eric got the bodyguards to kick her out, and our wedding continued without a glitch. However, he did not return home that night. Since then, he insisted that we sleep in different rooms. He would rather get drunk than touch me. When I questioned him about this, he said to me drunkenly as his eyes glazed over, "Ayla, every time I look at you, I'm reminded of the look of despair in Naomi's eyes and her mother's dying face… I regret making that decision!" His answer depressed me, and I eventually died from it. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Eric tried to convince me to give Naomi our wedding. This time, I agreed. I called my family as I watched him leave happily. "I agree to the marriage alliance. We can hold the wedding in three days."

I was with Marco, the New York Mafia heir, for seven years. He never told his family about me. But when I walked in on a wedding rehearsal and saw the groom embracing the bride-to-be. It was Marco! "Her fiancé's held up in Italy. I'm just a stand-in," he told me, but his eyes never left her. "You're the best wedding planner in New York. This wedding has to be flawless." But I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before. A possessiveness that bordered on resentment. Isabella, the bride, hated every idea I had for her. In the end, Marco told me to give her the wedding I'd spent five years designing for myself. "Our wedding can wait. I'll give you something bigger, I promise. It's just a plan, Sophia. It's what you do. Giving it to a client should be easy, right?" He didn't know. It wasn't just a plan. It was my dying wish. In the end, I gave him what he wanted, quietly preparing to die. Later, he went mad, kidnapping the world’s best doctors—risking a global manhunt—all to save me.

One day before my wedding, my fiancé, Tristan, declared, “you can no longer be my bride." The reason? My sister, Victoria, had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Her dying wish was for me to give up my place as the bride, so she could marry my fiancé instead. And Tristan agreed without hesitation. He even turning on me, "How can you be so heartless? She's your own sister!" The mocking smiles from my sister and the righteous anger from my fiancé left me broken. Little did I know, I would turn to the man I never anticipated—Rowan, my fiancé's uncle. He was the true power behind the family. Rumored to be ruthless, politically powerful, and never interested in women. However, I had never expected that he would took me in his arms tightly."Don't leave me."

On the night before the wedding, New York was washed in cold rain. The rehearsal at St. Patrick's Cathedral had been set for seven o'clock. Under the vaulted ceiling, the white roses, black satin bows, and silver candelabras had all been arranged exactly the way I wanted. But by the time the rehearsal ended, he still hadn't shown up. At 11:17 that night, I finally got a message from him. [Sophia is pregnant. Although the baby isn’t mine, I can’t let her child be born carrying the name of an illegitimate child.] [I went to City Hall with her tonight and made it legal.] [The wedding is still happening tomorrow.] [That piece of paper is just a formality. The person standing at the altar will still be you.] [Don't let outsiders know too much. And don't ruin her reputation.] I stared at those lines for a long time. In the end, I replied with a single word. [Okay.] I don't want the wedding and you.

The night before our wedding, Edward Fowler's friends gather for a celebration. A full set of sex toys lies in the gift box from his tomboy bestie, Winnie Spencer. I freeze, and Winnie shouts boisterously, "Don't you dare go easy on him, Sarah. That pup might look like someone who's abstaining, but he's actually pretty wild in the sheets. "During the start of the year, he only used three of these, yet he landed me straight in the hospital with injuries that took me half a month to heal!" She then hooks an arm around Edward's neck. "Let me give you a piece of advice as your buddy—you need to learn how to be gentle once you're married. "Sarah looks so delicate, so you'd better not pull the same stunt as last time. I was just recovering, yet you dragged me into it for two whole days. I almost died in bed!" My face darkens. Winnie covers her mouth in exaggerated shock. "It's just us buddies messing around. You're not mad, are you, Sarah?" Everyone is anticipating for me to snap. But instead, I let out a soft chuckle before replying, "Why would I be? I should be thanking you for being a free tutor instead. After all, someone who's in your line of work would charge at least three hundred dollars per night just for the same lesson."

Scarlett Pierce had spent her entire life living as a shadow within her own family, constantly yielding to her pampered stepsister, Penelope. The breaking point arrived on her own wedding day, when her fiancé, Arthur Sterling, halted the ceremony to declare his love for Penelope instead.

My fiancé's secretary had my wedding ring remade into a Hello Kitty trinket. When I confronted her, she twisted the truth with shameless arrogance, insisting that my wedding was hers to decide. I turned to my fiancé for support, only to have him dismiss me as petty and unworthy of being his bride. Together, they ridiculed and humiliated me, unaware that their families' power and future all depended on me. When my superior stepped in, their mockery collapsed in the face of truth. My fiancé fell to his knees, begging me to honor our engagement. But I cast him aside without hesitation, breaking off the marriage and leaving him with nothing.