Vivienne, with her wedding dress hitched up, barged into the neighboring ballroom, scanning the crowd that buzzed with excitement.

The star couple of what was supposed to be a wedding ceremony were conspicuously absent.

Feeling puzzled, she yanked a waiter aside to get the scoop.

The poor guy looked like he'd seen a ghost, but he managed to stammer, "No clue, but word is the bride bailed mid-ceremony. It's a bummer... What's the point of being loaded if the groom's a gimp? Can't do the thing, and the bride's life is down the crapper. I'd have hightailed it too!"

A sly grin tugged at Vivienne's lips as her eyes narrowed to slits.

The man she was after was easier to find than she'd thought!

Dress in tow, she scoured the place.

Finally, in another room, she found Cyrus Sinclair, but he seemed to be in a pickle...

Cyrus, the groom in a sleek black designer suit, sat alone in his wheelchair, ringed by snickering, well-heeled socialites.

They were openly mocking him. "Ha! Cyrus, you really hit the jackpot of bad luck, didn't you? Grandma threw fifty mil at getting you a wife, and now she's split, and the cash is gone with the wind! Talk about a total bust!"

The others nearby also chimed in with mocking laughter.

Cyrus's face turned as dark as a thundercloud as he tried to make an exit, but they hauled him back.

His voice dropped to an icy tone, "What's the game you're playing?"

Elias Sinclair let out a snicker, "Just kicking back... Now that the bride's flown the coop, you're free as a bird. Why not stick around and cut up some rug with us?"

By 'cut up some rug,' he meant gawking at Cyrus with a look that dripped disdain. It was a downright insult.

Though Cyrus was wheelchair-bound, the regal presence that once belonged to him was as strong as ever. A glint of danger flickered in his bright black eyes.

Elias's smirk froze, and his tone did a one-eighty. "What's with the death stare? You think you're still the heir apparent? Now that you're in a wheelchair, can't pop out an heir, the succession's going to my old man. Even if I took out your peepers today, Grandma would just give me a slap on the wrist, but the concern for you? That's history."

Elias stepped up, pinching Cyrus's chin in a mock threat.

But he had no guts to do anything else.

Cyrus knew the punk was all bark and no bite, just trying to flex with empty threats.

But the rubberneckers, who loved a good show, egged Elias on to make good on his bluster and scare Cyrus.

Feeling the heat, Elias finally grabbed a knife and fork, ready to make good on his threat.

Bang!

A bouquet clocked Elias on the noggin, sending a flurry of pink petals into the air!

He snapped to, clutching the back of his head, and roared, "Who did this..."

"I did! If you mess with my man, this is just the start!"

As the petals began to settle, Cyrus looked towards the voice and saw a woman in a pristine white wedding dress, striding towards him with unwavering resolve.

"Cyrus, let's get hitched!" she said.

Ding—

It was as if something inside Cyrus had been awakened.

His expression cleared, and the moment he laid eyes on the woman, his breath hitched.

It was her!

Meanwhile, Elias gawked, his mouth hanging open as he took in Vivienne's stunning figure, a sight to behold.

A predatory smile crept onto his face as he closed in.