The scent of three thousand white roses was suffocating.

It was all I could smell, thick and cloyingly sweet, as I stood at the altar, a perfect porcelain doll in a five-figure couture gown. The cathedral was packed. Five hundred of the city’s elite, all pretending to be moved by the union of the Monroe and Yates families.

My groom, Daniel Yates, was beaming. I was, for the first time in our eight-year relationship, genuinely happy. The officiant smiled.

“May I ask the groom, Mr. Daniel Yates, are you willing to marry Miss Clara Monroe as your wife, no matter rich or poor, in health or sickness, staying with her for the rest of your life?”

I watched Daniel’s face, my heart pounding a hole in my ribs. He opened his mouth. He looked at me, his smile faltering. “I… Daniel…”

He blinked. He looked past me, into the crowd. His eyes widened. “Lydia?”

A name. Not mine. The crowd turned. A gasp rippled through the pews.

My best friend, Lydia Lane—my maid of honor—was swaying, her hand pressed to her head. “Daniel,” she whispered, just loud enough for the microphone to catch it. “I… Lydia…”

And then she collapsed.

“Lydia!” Daniel screamed. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t look at me. He shoved past the officiant and ran off the altar, jumping the steps to get to her. “Lydia! What’s wrong? Lydia!”

He scooped her up into his arms, his white tuxedo jacket bunching. The crowd was on its feet, a chaotic murmur of shock and confusion. “Daniel,” Lydia whispered, her head falling weakly against his chest. “Don’t worry about me. Go back. Clara is waiting.”

“How can I not worry about you?” he yelled, his voice cracking with a panic I had never, ever heard him use for me. He started running, carrying her down the aisle. “This wedding is off!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “It’s off! Let’s go to the hospital! Hurry!”

The great cathedral doors slammed shut behind them, leaving an echo and a terrible, ringing silence. I was left standing at the altar. Alone. In front of five hundred people. The white roses suddenly smelled like a funeral.

“Hold it.” My voice was dead. Flat. I turned to my “best friend,” who was suddenly looking much better, clinging to Daniel’s arm. “Lydia is your bestie. What if something happens to her? Aren’t you worried at all?”

I looked at Daniel. The man I had loved since I was sixteen. The man who had just shattered my life, my reputation, and my family’s name in one, irreversible act. “Daniel Yates,” I said, my voice shaking, but not with tears. With a cold, clarifying rage. “I’ve given you so many chances over the years. Today is the last one.”

He actually had the audacity to scoff at me. “Threatening me, huh?” He adjusted Lydia in his arms, settling her more comfortably. “We’re done, Clara. Can’t you see she’s sick?”

We’re done. He turned his back on me and walked out.

My mother was sobbing. My father looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. The press, gathered outside, was already exploding. I was the joke of the century. The runaway bride who was left at the altar.

I felt a hand on my back. “Richard,” a low voice said. “Take Lydia. To the hospital. I’ll handle things here.”

It was Victor Yates. The real power. Daniel’s father. A man known as the ruthless king of the business world. Cold, decisive, and the one person Daniel was truly terrified of. He was tall, impeccably dressed, and radiated an authority that made the air around him feel thin.

He turned to my father. “My apologies. It’s my fault for not raising him properly.” Then his eyes, cold as steel, landed on me. “That bastard Daniel. I’ll drag him right to your feet. He is yours to deal with.”

He was going to bring him back. To force this. To make me marry the man who had just publicly chosen another woman over me. And in that moment, in the wreckage of my life, a new, wild, terrifying idea sparked to life.

I was done being the victim. I was done being the good, quiet, understanding fiancée. “Since Daniel doesn’t want to marry me,” I said, my voice echoing in the stunned silence, “why don’t I just pick someone else to marry?”

My father’s head snapped up. “Clara, what are you talking about?”

Victor Yates paused, his hand on the door. He turned, his expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”

I gathered my white dress. I walked off the altar, down the steps, past the shocked faces of my family, until I was standing directly in front of the most powerful man in the city. I looked him right in the eye. “Mr. Yates,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “Will you marry me?”

A collective, shattering gasp filled the room. Someone dropped a phone. My mother fainted. Victor just stared at me. He didn’t move. He just… watched me.

“Oh my gosh,” someone whispered. “Is she insane? She’s swapping grooms!” “Victor Yates is ten times harder to handle than Daniel…”

I ignored them. I kept my eyes on him. “Mr. Yates,” I continued, laying out my case like a business proposal. “Though I’m young, I know how to act properly. I know what’s good for us. This way, both our families save face. The ceremony can go on as planned. Your guests are not disappointed. Our joint ventures are not compromised. And your son… is taught a lesson.”

A flicker of something—amusement? respect?—danced in his cold eyes. “You’re actually much bolder than I thought, Miss Monroe.”

“Mr. Yates,” I said, not backing down. “Yes or no?”

He looked at me for a long, agonizing second. Then, a slow, dangerous smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll marry you.”

The room exploded. Victor walked past me, taking his son’s place on the altar. He gestured for me to join him. I did.

The officiant, looking pale and terrified, stammered, “B-but… the ring…”

Victor slipped a heavy gold signet ring from his own pinky finger. “Forget that. I’ll buy you a new one. Okay with that?” He was asking me. I nodded. “No problem.”

“Great,” he said. He turned to the officiant. “Proceed.”

The rest was a blur. The vows were a contract, spoken into a breathless void. “Now then,” the officiant finally managed, “the groom may… kiss the bride.”

A new hush fell. Rumor said Victor Yates hadn’t been with a woman in a decade. That he was made of ice. He turned to me. He was tall, and I had to look up. He was not Daniel. He was not a boy. He was a man. He leaned in, and his lips brushed mine. It wasn’t passionate. It was a seal. A promise. A final, definitive click of a lock.

“Ceremony complete,” he said, not to the crowd, but to me. I was no longer Clara Monroe. I was, in the most shocking twist of my life, Mrs. Victor Yates.

The “wedding night” was sterile. We were driven to his sprawling, modern mansion—a fortress of glass and dark stone overlooking the city. A housekeeper showed me to a guest suite that was larger than my old apartment. Victor didn’t follow.

I found him an hour later in his study, a massive room lined with books. He was staring at a full-wall analysis of the stock market. He didn’t look like a man who had just gotten married. He looked like a general planning a war.

“I’m good now,” I said quietly from the doorway. He turned. He’d removed his jacket. Broad shoulders, tapered waist. Even through his crisp white shirt, I could see the outlines of… abs. My God. I must have been staring.

“Still staring?” he asked, his voice laced with a dry amusement. I blushed. “I… You can still change your mind,” I blurted out. “We can declare this wedding invalid. Annulment.”

He walked toward me, slowly. He stopped just a foot away. “I won’t change my mind, Clara. We’re already married.” He tilted his head. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re not up for it.”

Was he… flirting? “How about,” I said, finding a sudden, strange burst of confidence, “you do a ‘test drive’ then?”

His eyes darkened. The amusement was gone, replaced by something hotter, more intense. He took a step, closing the space. Then his phone buzzed. He stopped. The moment shattered. He looked at the screen, and the mask of the CEO slammed back into place.

“I’m heading to the study,” he said, his voice all business again. He walked past me. “You go rest.”

As I stood in the hallway, I heard his voice, cold and precise. “Andrew. I want the full analysis on Mr. Daniel… Yes. He had three chances. Skipping the wedding was strike one. He has two left.”

I went to bed alone, my mind reeling. I had married a stranger. But as I lay in the massive bed, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. Safe.

I woke up to the smell of coffee. Victor was already gone. A man named Andrew—the voice from the phone—was waiting for me in the dining room.

“Sir, breakfast is ready,” he said, as if it were any other Tuesday. I sat. “Mr. Yates… Victor… he left?”

“Yes, ma’am. He had a 6 AM meeting. He asked me to brief you.” Andrew placed a tablet on the table. “He wanted to check on the assets under Mr. Daniel’s name. The financials are here. And about the wedding house,” Andrew continued, “what should we do with it?”

“The house I was… supposed to…”

“Yes. Since Mr. Daniel walked away from the wedding, Mr. Yates says he doesn’t deserve to keep it. He wants to transfer it under your name, as a gift.” I was stunned. “No… no need for that.”

“You don’t want it?” Andrew looked, for the first time, confused. “Oh, no… no. I mean… yes. Thank you. Thanks for your gift,” I stammered.

I drove to the wedding house. My house. The one I had spent six months decorating. I used my old key. It worked. I stepped inside. And there they were. Daniel and Lydia. On my sofa. Kissing. They sprang apart.

“Clara!” Daniel yelled, wiping his mouth. “You… you came in time! I was looking for you.”

“Where were you last night?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “I called. You ignored my calls.”

“Where I went is none of your business,” he snapped. “Let’s not forget, you ended the marriage yesterday.” I laughed. A real, bitter laugh. “I… I ended it? You’re delusional.”

“Clara, look,” he said, trying that old, placating tone. “I know you’re still mad about the… runaway thing. But think about it. We’re still engaged… and you’ve got your family backing you. Lydia’s completely alone. She has no one else but me!”

“So what?” I crossed my arms.

“So,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, “you should act mature and give up the wedding house for her to live in.”

I just stared at him. The audacity. “Daniel Yates,” I said slowly, “you seriously need a brain check.”

“Daniel, don’t be upset,” Lydia whimpered, stepping out from behind him. “It’s all my fault. She has every right to be mad. I’ll leave now.” She made a show of walking to the door.

“Hey, don’t go!” Daniel grabbed her. He glared at me. “Clara, are you done making a scene? There’s a limit to how jealous you can act! Now, pack your stuff and move out.”

“Move out?” I asked. “Daniel, who do you think you are to yell at me and try to kick me out?”

“I’m the owner of this place!”

“Not anymore,” I said, smiling. “This house belongs to your mom now.”

He froze. “My… mom? What are you talking about? Are you kidding?”

“No.” I walked past him. “She’s right in front of you. The house is mine. Why don’t you call and check?”

“Of course I’ll check!” he snarled, pulling out his phone. “Hey, Andrew! Is the wedding house still under my name?”

I watched his face. It was a beautiful, slow-motion cascade of panic. “Mr. Daniel, that house was transferred this morning… to Mrs. Yates’s name.”

He lowered the phone. “Mrs. Yates? Wait… you mean… Clara?”

I leaned against the counter. “Now, do you believe me? My dear… son, Daniel.”

His jaw dropped. “S-son?”

“It must be a gift from Uncle Victor to his future daughter-in-law,” Lydia whispered.

“Daughter-in-law?” I laughed. “Oh, honey, you’re not keeping up.”

“I… I really underestimated you,” Lydia spat, her mask of tears vanishing. “Just one day, and his dad already gave you the wedding house. Clara, you’ve always had the best of everything! I’m not letting that happen!”

“Daniel,” she wailed, “what am I supposed to do now? I really don’t have anywhere else to go…”

“Don’t worry, Lydia. You’ve got me,” he said, puffing out his chest. “So what if this house is yours? I’m the Yates heir! I’m moving in here with Lydia for sure!”

“Oh, yeah?” I said. “Go ahead and try.”

“With pleasure.” He grabbed Lydia’s hand and started walking toward the master bedroom. I stepped in his way.

“Clara,” Lydia suddenly pleaded, “for the sake of all those years we were best friends… can you please just let me stay?”

I looked at her. “Lydia,” I said, “you stole my man, tried to move into my wedding house, and now you’re talking about sisterhood? You’re just… disgusting.”

“Clara, I…” WHACK. Her hand cracked across my face. No, wait. That wasn’t right. My cheek didn’t even sting. Daniel, however, lunged.

“Clara, you’ve gone too far! Lydia begged you like that, and you still hit her! Hurry, apologize to her!”

I touched my face. “She… she slapped herself. What are you talking about?”

“Still making excuses? You think I’m blind?” he roared. I stared at them. The gaslighting. The toxic insanity.

“You see?” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “This time… it’s me hitting her.” WHACK. My palm connected with Lydia’s cheek. It was glorious.

“You… you dare to hit her!” Daniel yelled.

“Yeah, I hit her,” I said. “Clara, you’re completely unreasonable! You really think I wouldn’t hit you?” He raised his hand. He actually raised his hand to hit me.

“Fine, then,” I said, not flinching. “Today, let’s just see who’s tougher.”

“Daniel! What are you doing!” We all froze. Victor was standing in the doorway. His presence sucked all the oxygen out of the room.

“Dad,” Daniel stammered.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing my purse. I walked straight to Victor. “I’m done here. Hope you two live happily ever after.” I walked out. As I left, I heard Daniel’s panicked voice. “Dad, it’s not what it looks like!”

That evening, Victor found me in the mansion’s library. “You’re in a good mood, aren’t you?” he asked.

“So, you already know,” I said. “Andrew gave me a full report. Will you be mad at me?”

He chuckled. “He was the one who forgot his decency. Giving him a lesson is totally justified.” He held out a small, velvet box.

“What’s this?”

“This is an heirloom,” he said, opening it. A stunning bracelet of jade and diamonds. “Carried by every lady of the Yates family.”

“I… I can’t take this.”

His eyes narrowed. “Take it,” he said. I let him fasten it on my wrist. It was heavy. Real.

“Thank you.”

“Andrew,” he called out. The man appeared. “Make a public announcement. The Yates family will hold a banquet next week. I’ll officially introduce my wife. Also, freeze all of Daniel’s assets.”

“Wait,” I said. “When did he disrespect his elders?”

Victor’s lips twitched. “He raised his hand to my wife, in my house. That’s disrespect.”

The banquet was a sea of champagne. Daniel and Lydia were there, looking frantic. “Daniel, this place is fancy,” Lydia cooed. “We just need to suck up to your dad’s wife, real good.”

“Mrs. Yates is here!” Andrew announced.

I stepped out. Daniel and Lydia rushed over. “Come on,” Daniel said. “Let’s go see my mom.” He stopped. He stared. “Clara? Why is it you?”

“Of course it’s me,” I said.

“Clara, I have to admit, you’re pulling out all the stops,” Lydia spat. “You, Mrs. Yates? We’re not married yet!”

“Enough, Clara,” Daniel said. “Don’t mess with her. You just want a chance to suck up to my mom so you can marry me, right? Dream on!”

I laughed. “Daniel, you think too highly of yourself.”

“Well, then,” I said, holding up my wrist. “Take a look at this. Only the lady of the Yates family can wear this bracelet.”

His face went white. “Why are you wearing it? My dad… he really married you?”

“No way! You scammed this bracelet!” Daniel snarled. Lydia whispered, “I used to dream about a bracelet like this…”

“It’s just a bracelet,” Daniel said. “She’s not good enough for it. Give it to Lydia! Hand it over, now! Don’t make me use force!”

“In your dreams,” I said.

“Give it to me!” he lunged. CRASH. The bracelet hit the marble floor and shattered.

“Everyone, come look! Miss Clara Monroe smashed the Yates family heirloom!” Lydia pounced. My parents rushed over.

“Clara!” my father hissed. “Apologize to Mr. Daniel! Hurry!”

“Still talking back!” my father roared. “Down!” He pushed me, hard, trying to force me to my knees.

“Clara,” Lydia sneered. “From this moment on, Daniel and everything tied to the Yates family… belongs to me.”

“You’re claustrophobic, right?” Daniel suddenly grinned. “Just wait till I lock you in a dark room.” He grabbed me. “Lock this woman in the storage room!”

They dragged me into the dark service hallway. I pounded on the door. “VICTOR! IN HERE!”

“I’m asking,” Victor’s voice was closer now, “where is Clara?”

“I’m in here!” I screamed.

“Dad,” Daniel said. “She hasn’t been here at all.”

BOOM. The storage room door flew open. Victor stood there. He gently helped me up.

“Victor,” I whispered.

“Daniel,” Victor said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “I gave you everything. But today, you crossed the line. You laid hands on my wife. From this day forward, I officially strip you of your status as the Yates heir.”

“Dad! Please! It was Clara! She cheated on me first!” Daniel scrambled. “Wednesday night, 8:00 PM. She was spotted latching onto an old man at the Regal Hotel!”

“All right,” I said. “Now I remember. That night… I was with another man. But he’s not ‘some old man.’ He’s responsible. He treatments people with respect. I have chosen him for life.”

“Bravo!” Daniel clapped. “I’ll show everyone how this shameless pair ended up together!” He pointed to the projection screen.

A video played. It was me, at the Regal Hotel. Holding hands with… Victor.

“Dad? How… how could it be you?”

Victor stepped forward, pulling me to his side. “That’s right,” he announced. “The man with Clara is me. Clara is my lawfully wedded wife.”

“Clara is now my wife,” Victor stated. “You should call her ‘Mom.’”

“Dad! Have you lost your mind?” Daniel shrieked.

“Seriously,” I said, “Your dad and I were both single. You think I did this to get back at you?”

Victor’s arm shot out, blocking Daniel. “You’re not even worthy of touching her. We’re leaving.”

“No!” Daniel lunged. Victor moved, throwing Daniel into a dessert table.

“Does it hurt?” Victor asked me quietly. “I’m sorry. I promise… stuff like this won’t happen again. Whether impulsive or not, becoming a Yates means you’re my chosen wife. You’ll always have my full backing.”

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Our marriage was becoming real. Then, Daniel’s grandmother showed up. Elara Yates. She was a terror. She forced Victor to let Daniel and Lydia move into the mansion.

It was a nightmare. Then, the real drama started. I’d been feeling off. Nauseous. I took a test. I was pregnant.

How could I tell him? Victor… he’d had an accident years ago. He couldn’t have children.

We were summoned to dinner at the grandmother’s manor. Lydia struck. “Clara, how could you break Grandma’s favorite vase?”

“Lydia, you are lying!” I yelled.

Victor walked in. “Mrs. Wong, go get me the hallway security footage. Right now.” The footage showed Lydia deliberately shoving me.

“I now declare,” Elara said, “the engagement between Daniel and you is cancelled.”

“No!” Lydia shrieked. “I… I’m pregnant!”

Elara’s eyes lit up. “After Victor’s accident… this baby is the new heir!”

Lydia, now the queen of the manor, lunged at me. I stumbled, falling hard. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen. “Clara!” Victor yelled.

At the hospital: “Mrs. Yates is pregnant,” the doctor announced.

“Pregnant?” Victor was white as a sheet. “Doctor, are you sure?”

“Pregnant?” Lydia scoffed. “Everyone knows Victor can’t have kids! This baby… it’s a bastard!”

“Enough!” Victor roared. “I trust Clara.”

“A DNA test will tell us the truth,” Lydia smiled.

An hour later: “The test results show,” the doctor said, “the child Mrs. Yates is carrying belongs to Mr. Yates. His previous diagnosis was a misdiagnosis.”

Victor grabbed my hand. “Clara… we can have a child.”

“Madam,” the doctor told Elara, “Mrs. Yates is the only one pregnant. Miss Lane is not.”

The fallout was final. Lydia was thrown out. Daniel snapped, “Lydia, you messed up, and now you’re dragging me down.”

Victor had been listening. “Andrew, you’re sure?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Daniel was selling core technology to our rivals.”

Victor’s face was stone. “Daniel, starting today, you are no longer part of the Yates family.”

Two police officers arrived. “Mr. Daniel Yates? You leaked trade secrets and embezzled funds. Please come with us.”

A year later, I stood in that same cathedral. Victor stood across from me, holding our six-month-old son.

He slipped the vine-patterned ring on my finger. “Clara, you’re the only one I want to call my wife.”

I looked at my husband, and my son. I hadn’t just gotten revenge. I had won.