Billionaire's runaway bride

el

dress was su

to my legs like vines, twisting and knotting around me with every movement. No, the suffocation went deeper than that. It was the absurdity of the entire spectacle-the dress, the cathedral-sized ballroom, the orchestra rehearsing Wagner's *Bridal Chorus* downstairs like th

s. That's what they all said. But the woman staring back at me was a stranger, someone I didn't recognize. The intricate dress she wore, the flawless u

erating off the marble walls. She always had that no-nonsense tone, the kind that left no room for a

h and wobbly to be convincing. I cleared m

*big moments*. And according to her, this was the *biggest moment* of my life. The culmination of everything she had ever worked for. The etiquette lessons, the expensive boarding sc

l lik

l like me? Did it mean I was too fragile to make it on my own? Too privileged to survive without someone else'

fairy-tale weddings and happily-ever-afters. The bodice was encrusted with thousands of tiny crystals that caught the soft light, creating a shimmer that was

, I hat

l-like an ornament, an object, something to be admired but not truly known. More than

ouder this time, with an edge of irritation.

ha

intelligence, wit, and movie-star good looks. He was everything a girl could ask for in a husband-or so everyone said. My father adored him, constantly praising his sharp business acumen and impeccabl

ce brimming with envy. "Do you even realize how lucky yo

but wonder if she was right. Ethan was everything society told me I should want. He was rich, gorgeous, and endlessly charming. He

ye

't lov

Not in the way that creates a magnetic pull, a deeply rooted connection that feels unshakable. What I felt for Ethan was polite indifference, a distant admiration for his perfection, and a growing dread

k to the present. This time, it wasn't the sharp, impatient knock of my mother. It was quiet

current of concern, the kind of concern that made my chest tighten. She sounded like she already knew what

step. The fabric of the gown dragged behind me like a chain, a physical representation of the weight I was carrying.

. Her usual bright, carefree smile was absent, replace

My teeth sank into my bottom lip as I fought to keep the tears at

oms and chandeliers. She looked flawless, as always, in her sage-green bridesmaid dress. The silky fabric clung to her in all the right places, the muted color accentuating her golden hair, which was s

idn

f her words were meant to soothe rather than accuse. Her green eyes locked

ress, the fabric crumpling beneath my fingers. It felt like the only thing keeping me ground

ed to the edge of the chaise lounge and sank onto it, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Amelia, yo

ng with him. I thought I could convince myself that it was the right thing to do, that it would make everyone happy. But it's not fair, Sophie. It's

hat are you going to do?" she asked gently, tilting her head slightly as she studied me. It w

ing to leave," I said, the words falling from my lips before I even had a chance to think them thro

. "Leave? As in... leave the wedding?" Her voice was incr

my chest. "Yes," I said, my voice steadier now. "I can't go through with it,

pleading. "Do you even realize what you're saying? Your parents will lose

uly meant it. "I don't care about the guests, or my parents, or the headlines tomorrow. None of it matter

ine, as if she were trying to gauge whether I was serious or if this was just a momentary lapse i

imply, her voice s

the word feeling f

you want, then I'm not going to stop you. But you'd better move fast. Your m

a tight hug, my arms wrapping around her as if she were a lif

mile as she pulled back. "Do you even have

"Not exactly," I admitted sheepishly, a small,

was affection in her expression. "Of course you do

as small and shaky, but it was real. "I'll figure it out," I said, my v

ow *that* I can help with," she said, already moving to unf

tirely, but it was lighter, more manageable. I didn't know where I was going or what

l, undeni