The Groom Swap

At the wedding rehearsal, my fiancé replaced the MC I'd hired with his childhood friend, Riley Robner. "Step aside, Megan. Riley will run through the process for you. Pay attention." He pulled her behind him like he was afraid I'd lose it right there in front of everyone. But I didn't argue. I just quietly stepped back to the corner. He paused, caught off guard, then smirked and took Riley's arm. They walked the aisle together, exchanged rings, and ran through the whole thing like it was their show. Afterward, he drove her home himself. Before he left, he said, "She's a pro. She knows weddings better than you. This is for your own good. "Relax. She's just helping with your marks. When the real day comes, you'll be front and center." I smiled, nodded, and told him to drive safely. Derek shot a look at his groomsmen. They all exchanged grins, chests puffed. A while later, my phone buzzed with a message from the county clerk: [Your appointment has been canceled.] Then another message came in. It was a new confirmation—same office, same license, different groom. Scheduled for what was supposed to be my wedding day. Derek, you can swap out the MC. I'm swapping out the groom. Chapter 1 Riley Robner showed up in a floor-length white dress—practically a bridal gown. And Derek Teeger, conveniently, was in a black tux. They walked the aisle together, side by side, trading smiles that made his groomsmen whistle and hoot. "Now, that's a match. Riley and Derek look perfect together." "Megan showing up in jeans? Embarrassing." "No wonder Derek told her to step aside and let Riley handle the walk-through..." I stood alone in the corner, glancing down at myself. T-shirt. Jeans. Sneakers. That morning, I'd put on the white dress Derek had given me, thinking I'd take some photos if the rehearsal went well. But he called and said not to overdress—it was just a rehearsal, after all. "Just throw on a pair of jeans and a tee. Keep it casual." I hesitated. He got annoyed. "All my guys are coming. They're laid-back. If you show up looking like a bride, they'll never let me hear the end of it." He promised he'd dress down too, so I changed. But when I got to the venue, Derek was in his full wedding tux—and he'd brought Riley along. He'd sent my hired MC packing and put Riley in charge instead. She beamed at me. "Don't worry, I know all the cues. I'll make sure your big day is unforgettable." I said nothing, just looked at her. The white dress she wore was identical to the one Derek had given me—except hers had a silver chain detail at the collar. Her hair was pinned up. She had full bridal makeup on. She even wore pearl-white heels. Derek wasn't worried about his buddies making fun of me. He was worried about Riley feeling upstaged. So he chose to let me—his actual fiancée—feel like the extra. A round of applause snapped me back. The rehearsal was over. Riley had Derek's arm and was wearing the ring that was supposed to go on my finger. Derek called out to me, "Megan, you better thank Riley. Without her, you'd have no idea where to stand." The guys all turned to watch, waiting for me to lose it. They didn't know me as well as they thought. Ever since Derek ditched our six-month-in-the-making pre-wedding trip so he could take Riley to a two-hour movie premiere, I'd stopped fighting. Stopped demanding explanations. Stopped caring. "Thanks, Riley." I smiled. Derek blinked. Riley studied my face, then sighed dramatically. "Look, if you're not happy, I don't have to be your MC. No need to be so passive-aggressive about it." She turned and walked off. The groomsmen exchanged looks, then all eyes landed on Derek. His face flushed. He lowered his voice. "She's a professional. This is for your benefit. What's your problem?" There was a slight pause, then he flashed a knowing smirk. "Jealous again? And they call you a Powell heiress. You'd think you'd have more class." Chapter 2 "Relax. She's just helping you with the marks. Come the actual wedding day, you'll be front and center." Derek said it to me, but his eyes—and half his body—were already aimed at the door. Riley was taking her sweet time, lingering by the exit, waiting for him to chase after her. "Alright, I'm driving Riley home. Grab a cab for yourself today." I kept smiling. "Okay. Drive safe." Derek finally tossed me a look of approval, then shot a wink at his groomsmen. They gave him thumbs-ups. "Man's got his girl trained." They left. The groomsmen gave me a dismissive glance and followed. Then the wedding crew packed up and cleared out. I stayed. Didn't move. Derek had forgotten—ever since Riley's car got a flat tire months ago, he'd never driven me anywhere again. He also never bothered to notice I'd learned to drive myself. Last month, Riley said her apartment had a leak. Derek moved her straight into our newly renovated house—the one we hadn't even spent a night in together—and put her up in the master bedroom. Now it was basically "Riley's place." My phone buzzed with a message stating that the marriage license appointment was canceled. I also received another message: a text from someone else, with a screenshot of a new appointment confirmation. [Three days. County clerk's office. See you there.] I smiled. Genuinely this time. Me: [Yeah. See you there.] The ballroom lights went dark, and I walked out slowly into the blackness. They could keep the "unforgettable" wedding. … The next morning, I got a call on my way to the house. "Ms. Powell, we really can't get the dress back to the original fit in time…" The voice on the other end was full of apologies. I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. No need to fix it." I hung up and tapped the steering wheel. That dress was a custom piece from a top bridal designer. Three separate fittings just to nail my measurements. But before I even got to see the final product, Derek had secretly handed it over to Riley for a try-on—and had another designer alter it to her size. By the time I found out, the sixty-thousand-dollar gown was a wreck. I'd been furious. Derek got defensive. "The wedding's five days away. The dress is just sitting there. What's the harm in letting her wear it for a minute? "Don't look at me like that. Riley's thinner than you. Lose a few pounds and it'll fit. If you can't, we'll have it changed back before the big day." He didn't care that it was my dress. He didn't care if it could even be salvaged. He just wanted Riley to wear it—to give her the one thing she'd never had in two years of MCing other people's weddings: a bride's moment. I reached the house and punched in the code. It remained locked. Good thing I'd handled the renovation myself. I still had the physical key. I let myself in. Riley was sitting at the vanity in my getting-ready robe, dabbing on lipstick. She glanced at me in the mirror and nodded toward the bathroom. "Looking for Derek? He's had a long night. He's in the shower." I stepped over the mess of women's underwear and men's boxers on the floor, knelt down, and pulled a small suitcase from under the bed. Inside was the gift I'd planned to give Derek after the wedding. Two hundred thousand dollars' worth. Since there was no wedding, I might as well return it. "Just picking something up. Not looking for him." I started dragging the suitcase out. Behind me, Riley let out a soft laugh. "Pathetic. Your own man sleeps with another woman, and you can't even ask a single question—just turn tail and run." My fingers dug into the handle. My back went rigid. Derek's voice from the proposal echoed in my head, 'I swear on my life I'll never betray you, Megan. If I ever break that vow, let me die alone—or worse.' I'd never planned on getting married. As the least-favored Powell daughter, I was going to focus on making my floral design studio succeed first. Derek's sincerity had changed my mind. I'd agreed to marry him before chasing my career. But one month after those vows, Riley came back from abroad. And ever since, I'd been the awkward third wheel in their unrequited love story. Chapter 3 The bathroom door swung open. Derek came out towel-drying his hair. He paused when he saw me—but only for a second. Then he kept rubbing his head. "Here for the wedding video shoot? Cancel it. I'm taking Riley dress shopping today. You can come along and help pick." The tension in my back let go. I continued walking. "I'm busy." He glanced at my suitcase and frowned. "Back to that flower shop of yours? I told you to shut it down. Why are you bringing work stuff to Riley's place?" I didn't bother pointing out that this was supposed to be our house. I just kept walking. Derek's voice went cold. "Megan, how many times do I have to say it? That little studio of yours is pointless. Once we're married, you'll be home running the household and raising our kids. Might as well close it now." I stopped. My throat tightened. When I spoke, my voice came out strained. "Since when did I say I'd be staying home?" Derek gave me a look like I was being dramatic. He pulled a suit jacket from the closet, then picked out a purple dress for Riley. "Wear this. It'll be easier to get in and out of when you're trying on gowns." Riley pouted sweetly. "I don't want that one. I like the burgundy." Derek's hand froze for half a second. I knew exactly what he was thinking. I'd never spent a night in this house, but after the renovation, I'd put three wedding outfits in the closet: a champagne robe, a red silk nightgown, and a burgundy reception dress. The robe was on Riley. The nightgown was crumpled on the floor. Only one was left. Derek's eyes flicked to me, almost hesitant. When he saw my face stay calm, something like approval crossed his features. He handed Riley the burgundy dress. "Like it? Wear it." Five minutes had passed. He still hadn't answered my question. He hadn't explained the mess on the floor, either. Or maybe he just didn't care. Not wanting to drag it out, I turned and wheeled my suitcase out the door. Before I could start the car, someone tapped on my window. Derek looked surprised. "Since when do you have a car? You got your license?" I gave a flat "Mm." His brow furrowed with annoyance. "You're really this bent out of shape because I had Riley walk through the ceremony? I told you—she and I grew up together. She's a professional MC—" "Mm. I understand." I cut him off gently. That only made him angrier. "Then it's that stupid studio of yours. "Can you grow up? I'm the sole heir of the Teeger family. You're just the third daughter of the Powell family—we're not even in the same league. "My wife stays home, takes care of the house, and raises the kids. Running around in public—what kind of horrible image is that?" Something heavy pressed down on my chest. When he'd proposed, he swore he'd respect everything about me. Now, he not only looked down on my family name—he wanted to cage my entire life. I clenched my jaw and started rolling up the window. Derek straightened up sharply. "Megan, you're not agreeing? Look at Riley. She's gentle and sensible. Why can't you learn from her? "Let me make this clear: if you don't shut down that studio, the wedding's postponed. We'll do it whenever you come to your senses." I hit the gas and drove off. I returned the gift, went back to my apartment, and packed my things. Now all I had to do was wait for the appointment—then I'd be moving in with my new groom. After dinner, one of my studio colleagues called. I braced myself, thinking she was going to tell me we'd lost money on canceled wedding flowers. I was about to say I'd cover it—but she was crying. "Ms. Powell, what do we do? The national floral exhibition project—Derek stole it. They bid half our price. "But the flowers are already on the way. If we lose the deal, we eat the cost ourselves. That's easily over a million…" My head went blank. This was the biggest project my studio had ever landed. And my father and I had a deal: hit thirty million in profit within a year, and I'd get a seat at the Powell Group—and a stake in the company. Chapter 4 If this deal had gone through, the thirty million would've been locked in. I didn't have time to overthink it. I called Derek. He was at a party somewhere. Over the noise, his voice came through dripping with sarcasm, "Well? Change your mind already?" I gripped the phone, each word heavy. "Derek. Why did you steal my studio's project?" His tone was smug, condescending. "Because you wouldn't listen. I had to teach you a lesson." I took a breath. "You know how much this project means to me. If I land it, I can—" "Can what? Make your family finally take you seriously?" He cut me off with a laugh. "You've never mattered to them. What's the point of all this struggling? Just do what I say, and maybe your parents will toss you a few shares out of respect for me." Someone in the background shouted something. One of his groomsmen. "Hey, is the missus coming after you?" Derek muttered to the room, "Relax. She's just being dramatic." Then I heard Riley's voice, close to the phone. "Is she upset? Should I explain? I really didn't mean to steal her project—the organizers came to me—" "Nothing to do with you. I bid lower. They went with the better offer." My stomach dropped. My colleague had said Derek had stolen the project, but he hadn't done it under the Robner Group. It was a brand-new floral studio called Riley's Bloom. When I spoke again, my voice trembled. "Derek. You stole my project and gave it to Riley just so I'd be a pretty little housewife for you?" "What else are you good for?" Riley chimed in sweetly, "Derek, don't talk to her like that." He snorted. "See? Riley's defending you. And you? You snap at me over everything. I can put up with it before the wedding, but after? No chance." The laughter and jeers swelled in the background. I closed my eyes. "Then let's not have a wedding." There were two seconds of silence, then Derek scoffed. "Threatening me now? Fine. Don't marry me, then. We'll see how hard you come crawling back." I hung up and blocked him on everything. Back at the party, someone muttered, "Derek, don't you think you went a little far? Stealing her project, talking like that… what if she actually calls it off?" Derek waved it off. "You don't know her. She was willing to blow off her father's deal just to marry me. She's not walking away over a few words. "Megan's got a temper—I know that. If I don't put her in her place now, she'll be a nightmare after we're married." Riley poured him a drink. "So, for tomorrow's wedding…" "Yeah, skip the pickup. I'll show up two hours late. Let her wait." He downed the glass. "She needs to learn I'm not desperate for her." … On the supposed wedding day, Derek strolled in at two in the afternoon. Riley was in that white gown, arm linked through his, walking in like they owned the place. But the ballroom was chaos. No bride. No sign of Megan. "Where is she?" One of the groomsmen ran over, shoving a phone in his face. "Derek—look. She got married. To someone else." On the screen was Megan's social media post from ten that morning. She was in a white blouse, beaming, leaning against a man's shoulder. His face wasn't visible, but both of them held up their marriage certificates. Derek's mouth opened. Nothing came out. His hands started to shake.