The Wheelchaired Tycoon's Feisty Wife

"Marek Quinn, what's the deal? Our wedding's kicking off in an hour, and now you're dropping the bomb you're jetting off to Kansburg for some other dame?!"

Vivienne Meyer, with her stunning white wedding gown in tow, rushed to cut off Marek's path. Her almond eyes were wide with disbelief as she stared at the man before her, "If you split now, what am I supposed to do? You're turning me into the laughingstock of Bayview, aren't you?!"

"Laughingstock? Vivienne, agreeing to this whole charade was already the best I can do. Don't push it. And what's this about 'some other dame'? That's your cousin we're talking about!"

Marek continued, "She came in good faith to witness the vows, but now she's laid up in the hospital with a heart attack. You expect me to play dumb? Sorry, not happening!"

Marek was already checking his watch with an impatient flick of the wrist, his brows knitted in a frown of worry.

He brushed past the gawking onlookers, shoving Vivienne aside without a second thought, and stormed towards the elevator.

The moment he hit the call button, it was as if all his irritation was channeled into that press, his finger jamming it down with extra strength.

Vivienne struggled to rise, her gaze fixed on his indifferent retreating figure, feeling chilled to the bone.

Her gritted teeth couldn't help but throb with a sour ache.

Ding—

As the elevator doors slid open, Vivienne snapped back to reality, her voice quivering, "Marek! If you really go through with this, it's curtains for our families, and our marriage is off the table!"

"And that flashy project of yours? Don't expect a red cent from the Meyers!" Her words dripped with the pride befitting a Meyer heiress.

She couldn't fathom Marek, a man driven by profit, would sacrifice hard-earned investments for a woman.

But she was in for a surprise.

Marek merely sneered, pausing inside the elevator, his cold gaze fixed on her. "Suit yourself!"

With that, Marek's harsh, indifferent face vanished from Vivienne's sight as the elevator doors closed.

Vivienne clenched her fists; she'd never imagined that, having been born with a silver spoon and lived with pride for twenty-three years, she'd face such humiliation on the most pivotal day of her life.

Furious, she pounded her fist into the ground.

But there was no way the wedding was going to be called off!

Her grandmother Pamela was eagerly awaiting the good news of her union!

Pamela had been in the hospital, but her spirits had lifted considerably upon hearing of the marriage.

If she found out Vivienne had been publicly ditched by Marek, she'd probably be furious enough to pass out.

"Miss, Are you alright?" The butler, Brian, had somehow materialized by her side.

He witnessed the usually regal Miss Meyer now sprawled on the floor, as the guests who'd been watching the drama dispersed upon seeing the groom leave.

Brian hurriedly moved forward, flustered, intending to assist Vivienne to her feet.

"Miss, don't take it too hard. These things happen... The bride next door ran off too," added Brian.

But in the next instant, Vivienne, lifting the hem of her wedding dress, bypassed the snickering guests and marched straight towards the adjacent ballroom.

Brian was taken aback by Vivienne's sudden action.

He scrambled to follow, calling out, "Miss, where are you off to?"

"To find the groom! This wedding is happening, come hell or high water!"