On my wedding day, my groom walked out in front of everyone with my younger sister in his arms, leaving me standing alone in my wedding dress as the entire room laughed at me. My mother rushed over and slapped me, accusing me of not even being able to tolerate my own sister.
They all thought I was nothing more than a pawn in an arranged marriage—someone with no one to protect me and completely at their mercy.
Then the doors opened. Valerie Astor, my fiancé’s stepmother, entered surrounded by bodyguards. She took my hand and completed the wedding ceremony in his place.
Later, they forced me to my knees, tore my dress, and tried to steal my place as his wife.
But they had no idea that the person who truly controlled the Astor family was now standing on my side.
