The Wheelchaired Tycoon's Feisty Wife

"Marek Quinn, what's the deal? Our wedding's kicking off in an hour, and now you're dropping the bomb you're jetting off to Kansburg for some other dame?!"

Vivienne Meyer, with her stunning white wedding gown in tow, rushed to cut off Marek's path. Her almond eyes were wide with disbelief as she stared at the man before her, "If you split now, what am I supposed to do? You're turning me into the laughingstock of Bayview, aren't you?!"

"Laughingstock? Vivienne, agreeing to this whole charade was already the best I can do. Don't push it. And what's this about 'some other dame'? That's your cousin we're talking about!"

Marek continued, "She came in good faith to witness the vows, but now she's laid up in the hospital with a heart attack. You expect me to play dumb? Sorry, not happening!"

Marek was already checking his watch with an impatient flick of the wrist, his brows knitted in a frown of worry.

He brushed past the gawking onlookers, shoving Vivienne aside without a second thought, and stormed towards the elevator.

The moment he hit the call button, it was as if all his irritation was channeled into that press, his finger jamming it down with extra strength.

Vivienne struggled to rise, her gaze fixed on his indifferent retreating figure, feeling chilled to the bone.

Her gritted teeth couldn't help but throb with a sour ache.

Ding—

As the elevator doors slid open, Vivienne snapped back to reality, her voice quivering, "Marek! If you really go through with this, it's curtains for our families, and our marriage is off the table!"

"And that flashy project of yours? Don't expect a red cent from the Meyers!" Her words dripped with the pride befitting a Meyer heiress.

She couldn't fathom Marek, a man driven by profit, would sacrifice hard-earned investments for a woman.

But she was in for a surprise.

Marek merely sneered, pausing inside the elevator, his cold gaze fixed on her. "Suit yourself!"

With that, Marek's harsh, indifferent face vanished from Vivienne's sight as the elevator doors closed.

Vivienne clenched her fists; she'd never imagined that, having been born with a silver spoon and lived with pride for twenty-three years, she'd face such humiliation on the most pivotal day of her life.

Furious, she pounded her fist into the ground.

But there was no way the wedding was going to be called off!

Her grandmother Pamela was eagerly awaiting the good news of her union!

Pamela had been in the hospital, but her spirits had lifted considerably upon hearing of the marriage.

If she found out Vivienne had been publicly ditched by Marek, she'd probably be furious enough to pass out.

"Miss, Are you alright?" The butler, Brian, had somehow materialized by her side.

He witnessed the usually regal Miss Meyer now sprawled on the floor, as the guests who'd been watching the drama dispersed upon seeing the groom leave.

Brian hurriedly moved forward, flustered, intending to assist Vivienne to her feet.

"Miss, don't take it too hard. These things happen... The bride next door ran off too," added Brian.

But in the next instant, Vivienne, lifting the hem of her wedding dress, bypassed the snickering guests and marched straight towards the adjacent ballroom.

Brian was taken aback by Vivienne's sudden action.

He scrambled to follow, calling out, "Miss, where are you off to?"

"To find the groom! This wedding is happening, come hell or high water!"

Vivienne, with her wedding dress hitched up, barged into the neighboring ballroom, scanning the crowd that buzzed with excitement.

The star couple of what was supposed to be a wedding ceremony were conspicuously absent.

Feeling puzzled, she yanked a waiter aside to get the scoop.

The poor guy looked like he'd seen a ghost, but he managed to stammer, "No clue, but word is the bride bailed mid-ceremony. It's a bummer... What's the point of being loaded if the groom's a gimp? Can't do the thing, and the bride's life is down the crapper. I'd have hightailed it too!"

A sly grin tugged at Vivienne's lips as her eyes narrowed to slits.

The man she was after was easier to find than she'd thought!

Dress in tow, she scoured the place.

Finally, in another room, she found Cyrus Sinclair, but he seemed to be in a pickle...

Cyrus, the groom in a sleek black designer suit, sat alone in his wheelchair, ringed by snickering, well-heeled socialites.

They were openly mocking him. "Ha! Cyrus, you really hit the jackpot of bad luck, didn't you? Grandma threw fifty mil at getting you a wife, and now she's split, and the cash is gone with the wind! Talk about a total bust!"

The others nearby also chimed in with mocking laughter.

Cyrus's face turned as dark as a thundercloud as he tried to make an exit, but they hauled him back.

His voice dropped to an icy tone, "What's the game you're playing?"

Elias Sinclair let out a snicker, "Just kicking back... Now that the bride's flown the coop, you're free as a bird. Why not stick around and cut up some rug with us?"

By 'cut up some rug,' he meant gawking at Cyrus with a look that dripped disdain. It was a downright insult.

Though Cyrus was wheelchair-bound, the regal presence that once belonged to him was as strong as ever. A glint of danger flickered in his bright black eyes.

Elias's smirk froze, and his tone did a one-eighty. "What's with the death stare? You think you're still the heir apparent? Now that you're in a wheelchair, can't pop out an heir, the succession's going to my old man. Even if I took out your peepers today, Grandma would just give me a slap on the wrist, but the concern for you? That's history."

Elias stepped up, pinching Cyrus's chin in a mock threat.

But he had no guts to do anything else.

Cyrus knew the punk was all bark and no bite, just trying to flex with empty threats.

But the rubberneckers, who loved a good show, egged Elias on to make good on his bluster and scare Cyrus.

Feeling the heat, Elias finally grabbed a knife and fork, ready to make good on his threat.

Bang!

A bouquet clocked Elias on the noggin, sending a flurry of pink petals into the air!

He snapped to, clutching the back of his head, and roared, "Who did this..."

"I did! If you mess with my man, this is just the start!"

As the petals began to settle, Cyrus looked towards the voice and saw a woman in a pristine white wedding dress, striding towards him with unwavering resolve.

"Cyrus, let's get hitched!" she said.

Ding—

It was as if something inside Cyrus had been awakened.

His expression cleared, and the moment he laid eyes on the woman, his breath hitched.

It was her!

Meanwhile, Elias gawked, his mouth hanging open as he took in Vivienne's stunning figure, a sight to behold.

A predatory smile crept onto his face as he closed in.