After the groom ran away, I married a billionaire

"Move the floral arch two feet to the left." I pointed toward the center of the ballroom stage.

"Like this?" the florist asked, dragging the heavy iron frame across the polished wood.

"A little more. The photographer wants it perfectly centered under the chandelier."

"Got it."

I wiped a bead of sweat from my temple. My wedding dress hung safely upstairs in the bridal suite. Right now, I wore faded jeans and a white tank top. Dust coated my sneakers. I had been up since four in the morning dealing with caterers, missing chairs, and a drunken groomsman.

Miles stood a few yards away, staring at his phone screen. He wore his tuxedo trousers and a crisp white shirt, the bowtie hanging loose around his collar. He hadn't helped with a single decision all morning.

"Do we really need this many white roses?" he asked, finally looking up.

"It's a wedding, Miles," I answered. "Our wedding. You agreed to the floral budget three months ago."

"It feels excessive."

"Your mother requested the extra flowers."

He frowned, tapping his screen again. "Right. Well, hurry up. The photographer wants pre-ceremony shots in an hour. You aren't even dressed."

"I will be ready," I assured him. "Put your phone away. We need to go over the seating chart one last time."

"Just put my cousins at table four."

Before I could argue, his phone rang.

The sharp, upbeat tone shattered the quiet hum of the ballroom. Miles didn't hesitate. He answered it before the second ring.

"Hello?"

The volume on his device was high enough for the sound to carry. A sharp, ragged sob echoed from the speaker.

"Miles." The voice was fragile. Trembling.

Emma.

My stomach tightened into a knot.

"Emma, what's wrong?" Miles shifted his weight. He turned his body slightly away from me.

"I fell," she cried. "I was trying to get a box down from the attic. I slipped. My ankle... I think it's snapped. It hurts so much."

"Did you call for an ambulance?" I stepped closer, projecting my voice so she would hear me.

Silence stretched over the line for a fraction of a second. Then, a louder, more desperate wail erupted.

"Miles, please," Emma wept. "I'm all alone. Since Mom and Dad died, I just... I don't know who else to call. I'm so scared. The pain is unbearable. I think I'm going to pass out."

"Stay awake, Em. I'm on my way."

"Will Diana be mad?" Emma's voice grew smaller, pitiful. "I don't want to ruin your special day. You should just leave me here. I'll drag myself to the street eventually."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm coming," Miles said.

He ended the call.

The screen went black. He shoved the device into his pocket and turned to face me.

"Diana, I have to go."

"Our ceremony starts in exactly two hours," I reminded him. My tone stayed perfectly level.

"She's badly hurt."

"An ambulance has paramedics. You are a financial analyst."

"Don't do this right