The Billionaire's Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter Romane & Geschichten

"I don't recall offering you a dime to marry me." Ava froze. Had her assumption been wrong? Was their accidental marriage really not just some warped prostitution arrangement? His expression sobered, suddenly earnest. "I hate to break it to you, wife, but you wanted all of this. Me, my world, my life as a wayward billionaire bride." His words clung to every sumptuous inch of his godlike physique, dripping with arrogant male ownership over her life. It suddenly felt impossible to breathe in this abruptly small hallway. Ava spun away, denial and rage clawing at her.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married to the last son of a billionaire family, how lucky are you.” I couldn’t care less for the money to be honest, or the status. All I want is a way to stay here, and find my kid. And when we say our vows to each other, the old, reused one, not at all like the written vows I hoped to say to my future bride. Except, there’s no future bride, there’s just… a present husband. One that I so, so terribly want to kiss. I wring my fingers, it does nothing for the nerves starting to build.

Her mother advised. “You will be a wife to such a young millionaire.” Her siblings said to her and so as not to become the black sheep of the family, she agreed; at least she was silent through it all and the silence was counted as an approval and the marriage was planned. The marriage was a large society wedding and none of the about to be couple have a say in the way the marriage ceremony was planned. It was a dream come true for the family. The khitbah was not properly done, none of the young couple have any questions for themselves and those they didn’t see each other. They are children to family friends and both are from a good home, that was all.

"Breaking news! Bride loses her mind at billionaire wedding!" "Guess she wasn't meant for the high life. So close to marrying into money, and she snaps." Below the stage, guests in tailored suits crowded together. Some pulled out hidden cameras and started snapping photos nonstop, while others crouched in corners, clutching their heads and whispering prayers. All because, while Malcom Blair and I were exchanging vows just moments ago, I slapped him across the face, then dragged over a filthy man from the entrance who looked like a homeless drifter and kissed him in front of everyone.

Dozens of no⁠tificat⁠ions, messages⁠, missed calls. And one headline that made my stomach‌ drop. “‍The Billionaire’s Bride: Love, Lies, and Leverag⁠e?⁠” T‌he article‌ had my n⁠ame in bol‍d letters. It‍ c⁠alled me a myster⁠y‍ wo‌man with no social backgr‌ound, a po‌ssible p‌aw‌n in a strateg‍ic‍ marriage, and worst o‌f all — it ques‌tioned if I h⁠ad “married into luxu‍ry” fo‌r money.

“And this has to do with me?” “I want you to marry me.” The café seemed to tilt. She laughed. Loudly. “That’s insane.” He reached into his coat and placed a folded document on the table. A check. Her laughter died. The amount made her dizzy. Half a million dollars. “I’ll cover your mother’s medical bills,” he said. “All of them. Immediately. The rest is yours.” Her hands trembled. “You don’t even know me.” “I don’t need to.” “That’s supposed to convince me?”

Especially him. Damian Blackwood. The man I am supposed to marry. A billionaire whose name made tycoons tremble. Cold, ruthless, untouchable. I had seen the way he looked at me during our brief engagement meetings—like I was just another piece of asset, another acquisition. And I refuse to be bought. The curtains lifted. Applause rolled through the crowd. One by one, we glided onto the stage, gowns shimmering under the lights. Each of us masked, each mysterious, each promised to the highest bidder for the sake of “charity.” My turn came all too soon. My heels clicking like gunshots against the polished floor.

he murmured, “the world will know your name.” She smiled. “One day.” Outside, the city continued unaware. Inside, a billionaire claimed not an empire— But a wife the world would never see coming.