After My Groom Abandoned Me, His Rival Married Me

I smoothed the seating chart across our dining table, tracing my finger over the calligraphy that had cost a small fortune. Three hundred guests, meticulously arranged to avoid family feuds and maximize networking opportunities for Mark. Seven years of my life had led to this moment—tomorrow, I would finally become Mrs. Sullivan.

Our Manhattan apartment was a sea of wedding gifts, white tissue paper spilling from bags, elegant boxes stacked in corners. The dress—my dream dress—hung on the bedroom door, a cascade of ivory silk and delicate beadwork that had consumed three months' salary.

"Perfect," I whispered, making a final adjustment to the chart. I pulled my sketchbook closer, adding a few details to my drawing of the Plaza Hotel's terrace where we'd exchange our vows. Architecture had always been my passion, but I'd set it aside when Mark needed me to help with his business. Tomorrow marked not just our wedding, but the beginning of my return to that dream.

I glanced at the clock—nearly midnight. Mark was working late again, finalizing a deal he insisted couldn't wait, even on the eve of our wedding. That was Mark—ambitious, driven. It was what I'd first loved about him, even if sometimes it left me alone on nights like this.

My phone buzzed, an unknown number lighting up the screen.

"Hello?" I answered cautiously.

"Don't—don't marry him," a man's voice slurred, thick with emotion or alcohol—possibly both. "Please, don't do it. Marry me instead."

"Who is this?" I demanded, heart suddenly racing.

"Someone who—" The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, a chill creeping up my spine despite the summer heat. A prank call, surely. Or a wrong number. I set the phone down, trying to ignore the flutter of unease in my stomach.

The front door clicked open, and I heard Mark's familiar footsteps. I started toward the hallway but froze when I heard him speaking in hushed tones.

"I know, I know," he whispered urgently. "I'll meet you at seven, before anyone's awake."

I pressed myself against the wall, breath caught in my throat.

"Victoria, please," he continued, his voice dropping even lower. "I need to see you one last time. You know you're the one I really love. This pregnancy changes everything."

The world tilted beneath my feet. Pregnancy? Victoria—his college girlfriend? I slid down the wall, my legs no longer able to support me.

"I'll figure it out," he murmured. "Just... wait for me."

I heard him end the call, then the sound of water running in the bathroom. Moving on instinct, I crept back to bed, slipping under the covers and turning away from the door, eyes wide open in the darkness.

When Mark finally came to bed, he curled around me, his arm draped possessively across my waist. I lay rigid, my mind racing through seven years of memories, searching for clues I'd missed, warning signs I'd ignored.

The next morning dawned bright and clear—a perfect June day for a wedding. I moved