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The day I finally said "yes" to marrying his ruthless rival, the man who'd ditched me three times at city hall crumbled—begging on his knees while I glowed in the arms of the enemy he'd always despised. I'd waited eight hours outside city hall that day, clutching useless queue tickets, my heart cracking a little more with every passing minute. Aaron Galloway—the man who'd promised me forever—was supposed to show up to get our marriage license. But he never did. For the third time, he'd chosen her. His fragile, depressed "old flame" Patti, the one he could never say no to. I wasn't going to cry anymore. I wasn't going to beg. So I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I'd ignored twice before: Fredrick Pollard, Aaron's biggest business rival and the man who'd proposed to me every single time Aaron stood me up. "I agree to marry you," I said, voice steady for the first time in years. Fredrick didn't gloat. He just said he'd be back from his trip in a week and if I still meant it, we'd meet at city hall. No pressure. No games. Just a chance. That week, I erased Aaron from my life. I boxed up every photo, every couple's mug, every memory we'd built in the apartment he'd connected to mine. I called a real estate agent and listed it for sale—price didn't matter, I just wanted it gone. Wanted every trace of him gone. Of course, Aaron came home that night with Patti clinging to his arm like a damsel in distress. He didn't even apologize for ditching me. He just announced she was staying with us because her "depression flared up." Then he ordered me to prepare the guest room for her. I watched him give Patti his own bedroom while he crawled into mine hours later, wrapping his arms around me like nothing had happened. "Sorry I flaked," he murmured against my neck. "Patti needed me. Let's postpone the license until she's better. Be patient, okay? I'll make it up to you." Patient. I'd been patient for years while he ran to her every time she cried wolf. The next morning, Patti paraded around in a low-cut dress, flaunting fresh marks on her collarbone. "Aaron says you're boring in bed," she taunted with a smirk. "He can't even stand to touch you." I didn't react. That only made her angrier. So she grabbed my coffee and poured it over her own face, slapped herself, and collapsed dramatically—just as Aaron walked in. Suddenly I was the villain who'd attacked poor, helpless Patti. He believed her instantly. Demanded I apologize. When I refused, she "tripped" and fell again. Same story. I was done playing nice. So I made her accusations real. I threw fresh coffee in her face. Slapped her other cheek. Pushed her to the floor right in front of him. "There," I said coldly. "Now your lies are true. Consider that my apology." Aaron's face twisted in rage as he carried her out to the hospital, promising to "deal with me" later. I blocked his number. Told my mother I was leaving him. She lost her mind, screaming that our family company would collapse without Galloway money. She even threatened to kill herself if I broke up with him. Then she dragged me to the hospital to force me to apologize. We pushed open the ward door... and froze. Aaron was leaning over Patti, gently applying ointment to her burns. She whimpered, "It hurts," and he whispered, "It won't. Let me blow on it." Then he kissed her forehead. She smiled, threw her arms around his neck, and pulled him into a deep kiss on the lips—whispering how good it felt to finally have him all to herself. My mother gasped beside me, her grip on my arm going slack. Aaron looked up, saw us, and his face drained of color. But I just smiled—the first real smile I'd felt in years. Because in exactly seven days, I'd be walking into city hall in a white dress... on Fredrick Pollard's arm. And Aaron? What happens when he finds out who I'm marrying?