Chapter 4

“Excuse me, your wedding dress has arrived.” The doorbell rang.

Staring at the beautiful dress in front of me, I let out a bitter laugh.

Ryan had said, “You only get one wedding in life—how could we rent a dress someone else has worn?”

So he’d splurged on this one-of-a-kind custom dress.

Well, I’d already bought it—I might as well wear it.

I put on the dress and did my makeup nicely.

Standing in front of the mirror, I realized I couldn’t even cry anymore. All that was left was a deep, gnawing sorrow in my chest.

I slipped on the wedding shoes I’d been looking forward to, then walked out the door.

I strolled down the street, putting on a brave front, drawing countless stares and whispers.

They must have been thinking: Why is a woman in a wedding dress sitting at a street food stall?

“Little girl, getting married today?” The boss set a bowl of beef noodles in front of me.

“Yeah, but the groom ran away,” I said, forcing a big smile.

The boss looked flustered and hurried off to serve other customers.

Suddenly, a figure sat down across from me.

I didn’t look up. “This seat’s taken.”

“Heard you got dumped by your groom?” A low, husky voice came.

How rude! Why did he have to rub salt in my wounds?

Annoyed, I looked up, ready to snap—but my words died in my throat when I saw his face. He was devastatingly handsome.

His deep eyes locked onto mine, exuding a hint of danger, then he curled his lips into an almost tempting smile.

“I just happen to need a bride.”

I held my breath. He handed me a pair of chopsticks, his expression calm as he said softly:

“Let’s get married.”

Wait, what? Was this guy crazy? I stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Are you a human trafficker?” I forced myself to stay calm and took a slurp of noodles.

Did traffickers now hire good-looking guys to lure people?

To my surprise, he didn’t get angry. Instead, he chuckled softly and handed me a business card.

“I’m serious. I know who you are, Iris White.”

With that, he stood up, got into a car that looked incredibly expensive, and drove away—leaving me standing there, completely bewildered.

I glanced at the business card, scoffing as I read the words aloud:

“President of Haishi Group, Ethan Brown...”

My voice trailed off. Haishi Group?

The Haishi Group I knew? The one that’s a household name?