Cancelled Wedding: Pursued By The Secret Tycoon

"Miss Harding, the Stardust gown was made for you. Mr. Parrish will be speechless when he sees it."

Genevieve Harding stood before the three-way mirror in the private fitting room at Vera Wang's bridal gown, the layers of white silk and delicate lace falling perfectly over her figure. She ran her fingers lightly over the embroidery on the skirt, unable to hide the smile at the corner of her lips.

She glanced at her phone, where a photo of her and Charle Parrish still lit the screen. They had grown up together, from school days to engagement, and she had once believed this wedding dress would mark the beginning of their forever.

"He's almost here," she said softly, checking the time again.

Her phone rang before the smile could fade. The caller ID showed Charle. She answered immediately, her voice carrying a trace of excitement. "Honey, are you here? I'm wearing the dress."

"Sorry, Gen." Charle's voice came through with a hint of apology, mixed with the noise of traffic in the background. "Something came up. I don't think I can make it today."

The smile on Genevieve's face slowly disappeared. She walked to the corner of the fitting room, lowering her voice. "What happened? Is something wrong?"

"It's Keshia." His answer came quickly. "She's stuck downtown. It's raining heavily, and she doesn't have an umbrella. I need to go get her."

Genevieve's fingers tightened around the phone. After waiting all morning for him to see her in the wedding gown, she had never expected the reason he gave her would be another woman. "Because she doesn't have an umbrella?"

"She's not feeling well. She can't get soaked in the rain." Charle sounded impatient, as if explaining something obvious. "Just choose whichever dress you like. You look good in anything."

The call ended.

Genevieve stood still, the phone pressed against her ear as the busy tone echoed. In the mirror, the woman wearing the wedding dress looked like someone she barely recognized. This was the gown she had designed herself, the one she had spent countless nights perfecting, yet Charle, her fiancé of ten years, had never even seen the sketches. He always told her to choose whatever she liked, as if the most important day of their lives had nothing to do with him.

The bridal consultant noticed her pale expression and approached carefully. "Miss Harding, are you alright?"

Genevieve lowered her phone and forced herself to smile. "I'm fine. He just had something urgent come up." She looked back at the mirror for a moment before turning away. "Could you help me take it off?"

By the time she walked out of Kleinfeld, rain had covered the entire street. Heavy drops struck the glass storefront and splashed against the pavement.

Genevieve stood beneath the awning without an umbrella, watching cars pass through the rain. She had imagined leaving this place with Charle beside her, discussing flowers, venues, and their future.

Instead, she was standing there alone beneath the awning, watching the rain fall around her as the last trace of expectation slowly faded.

She returned to the empty penthouse soaked through. The moment she stepped inside, exhaustion hit her. A sharp ache spread through her head, and when she touched her forehead, her fingers met burning skin. She grabbed a thermometer from the drawer with unsteady hands.

103.1 degrees Fahrenheit.

Her vision blurred. She barely made it to the sofa before collapsing down. Her body burned with fever, but her hands felt cold.

Lying there, she looked at her phone again. She knew she should not call him. She had heard the disappointment in his voice too many times. But after ten years together, some part of her still believed he would come if she truly needed him.

After hesitating for a long moment, she pressed Charle's number.

The call rang several times before he answered.

"What is it now, Genevieve?" His voice was tired and impatient. "I'm busy."

She swallowed, forcing herself to speak. "Charle... I have a high fever. 103.1. Can you come home and take me to the hospital?"

There was a brief silence.

Then his voice came through, cold and distant. "You're an adult. If you're sick, call an Uber or take some medicine. Don't make everything such a big deal."

Before Genevieve could respond, another voice came from the other end of the call.

"Charle, who is it? Come help me dry my hair..."

It was Keshia White again.

Her fingers froze around the phone.

"I'm busy right now," Charle said quickly. "I'll call you later."

The call ended.

Genevieve stared at the dark screen for several seconds before slowly lowering her hand. She had waited for him at the bridal shop. She had waited for him in their empty apartment. Even now, with a fever and unbearable pain, she had still called him first.

But this time, there was nothing left to wait for.

After an unknown amount of time, she pushed herself upright. Her body trembled, but her movements became steady. She walked to the bedroom, opened the drawer, and took out her ID and bank cards.

She didn't call an ambulance. She didn't call anyone else.

She opened the ride app on her phone and booked a car to Lenox Hill Hospital's emergency room.

While waiting, she stood by the window and watched the storm outside. The city lights that once represented the future she imagined with Charle now looked distant and unfamiliar.

When the car arrived, the driver immediately noticed her pale face and trembling hands. "Ma'am, do you need help?"

Genevieve shook her head and opened the door. "Thank you. Just take me to the hospital."

The car disappeared into the rain.

Genevieve leaned against the cold window, watching the blurred lights outside. She had spent ten years walking toward a future with Charle.

Tonight, she finally realized that the future she had imagined might never come.

The next morning, Genevieve opened her eyes. The stark white ceiling above her slowly came into focus, and the sharp smell of antiseptic filled the room. A nurse noticed she was awake and walked over with a gentle smile.

"You're awake, Miss Harding. You had a high fever when you arrived last night. It's acute influenza, but you're stable now."

"Thank you," Genevieve whispered. Her throat was dry and painful, and even a small movement made her body ache.

Her eyes moved to the phone on the bedside table. The screen was dark.

No missed calls. No messages. Charle Parrish had not contacted her once.

She picked up the phone and unlocked it. This time, she didn't wait for an explanation or a reason. She opened his contact and typed a short message.

"Charle, we're done. The engagement is off. Don't contact me again."

After sending it, she blocked his number, removed him from every social media account, and deleted the contact.

Only then did she put down the phone.

A nurse came in to check her temperature and told her the fever had gone down. She could leave after a few more hours of observation.

While waiting for the discharge papers, her phone rang. The caller ID showed "Aunt Diane."

She answered. Diane Reynolds's voice immediately came through, sharp and impatient. "Gen! What are you doing? Didn't you see my email about Brian's job at Parrish Group? Why haven't you replied?"

Genevieve sat quietly on the hospital bed. She didn't mention the fever. She didn't mention Charle. She simply said, "I'll call you back later."

Before Diane could respond, she ended the call and turned on Do Not Disturb.

After finishing the discharge process, Genevieve left the hospital and took a cab back to the penthouse on the Upper East Side.

When she opened the door, everything inside was exactly the same as before. The expensive furniture, the spotless rooms, the quiet space that had once been called their home.

She walked straight to the walk-in closet and pulled out several large suitcases. She packed quickly. Clothes, books, jewelry design sketches, and the few personal items that belonged only to her.

When she saw the diamond necklace Charle had given her lying on the vanity, her hand paused for a second. Then she picked it up, placed it back into the box, and left it behind.

She didn't take anything Charle had bought for her. Only her own things.

While searching through the bookshelf, she found a small wooden box hidden behind the books. Inside were old photographs of her and her parents. She carefully placed the box into her suitcase.

Within two hours, everything she needed was packed. She contacted a moving company and sent her belongings to a storage unit, keeping only a small suitcase with daily necessities.

Before leaving, she stood in the living room one last time.

Then she removed the engagement ring from her finger and placed it beside the apartment keys on the coffee table.

She opened her phone, booked a suite at The Whitby Hotel, and paid for one week in advance.

With her suitcase in hand, she walked out of the apartment without looking back.

The elevator doors closed slowly, cutting off the place where she had once imagined her future.

At The Whitby Hotel, she stood at the front desk and gave her name.

"Genevieve Harding."

After entering her room, she placed her suitcase down and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Central Park.

For a moment, she stood there silently.

Then she took out her phone and dialed a number she had not called in a long time.

The call was answered on the first ring. A lively female voice immediately filled the room. "Gennie! You finally called me! How did things go with Charle yesterday? Did everything go well?"

Hearing that familiar voice, Genevieve's fingers loosened slightly around her phone. She leaned against the window, her voice soft. "Karina."

Karina Espinoza, one of Genevieve's few true friends, immediately noticed something was wrong. The playful tone in her voice faded. "What happened? Your voice doesn't sound right."

Genevieve lowered her eyes. She had so much to say, but in the end, she only whispered, "Karina, Charle and I broke up."

The other end went silent for a few seconds. Karina was stunned. She had always disliked the way Charle treated Genevieve, but she never expected their relationship to end so suddenly.

She didn't ask what happened right away. Instead, she softened her voice and said, "You and Charle are really over? Gennie, I don't know what happened, but I trust your decision." She paused, then asked with concern, "Are you alone right now? Where are you?"

Genevieve couldn't stop herself from laughing. It was the first genuine laugh she had managed in days. "I'm fine. I already moved out. I'm staying at The Whitby."

"Why are you staying at a hotel?" Karina immediately raised her voice. "I just bought a penthouse in Tribeca and was waiting for someone to move in with me. Pack your things and come over now."

Genevieve smiled but shook her head. "Thank you, Karri. But I need some time alone." She didn't want to leave one man's home only to move into another person's place. She needed a space that belonged only to her.

Karina was quiet for a moment, then accepted it. But she quickly changed direction. "Fine. But you're coming out with me tonight. We're celebrating your new life. One drink. No, ten drinks."

Genevieve hesitated. "I just recovered from a fever..."

"Exactly why you need to come out," Karina interrupted. "There's a new members-only club on the West Side called Indigo Club. I finally got access. Dress up, look amazing, and let everyone see what Charle Parrish lost."

Before Genevieve could refuse, Karina had already made the decision. "Nine o'clock. I'll pick you up downstairs at your hotel. Wear your best dress. That's an order."

After hanging up, Genevieve looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was still pale, but she couldn't help smiling at Karina's unstoppable energy.

She took a hot shower, then opened her suitcase and pulled out the black silk slip dress Karina loved. The design was simple, but the smooth fabric outlined her figure perfectly.

She applied light makeup, covering the faint tiredness on her face, then added a bold red lipstick. When she looked up again, the woman in the mirror seemed closer to the person she used to be.

Maybe Karina was right.

Tonight was worth celebrating.

At 8:50 p.m., her phone rang.

"Your Majesty," Karina announced dramatically. "Your carriage has arrived."

When Genevieve stepped outside, she saw a cherry-red Porsche 911 parked by the hotel entrance. Karina stood beside it in a sparkling mini dress, sunglasses pushed onto her head, grinning at her.

Karina rushed over and hugged her. "Oh my God, babe. You look incredible! Charle Parrish is going to regret this forever."

Inside the car, music filled the space as Karina drove through the city. "Tonight's mission is simple. Drink, dance, and forget everything that made you unhappy."

Genevieve leaned against the window, watching the city lights pass by. The corners of her lips slowly lifted.

Karina suddenly glanced at her and winked. "Seriously, if you want some fun tonight, I can find you a top-tier male escort. He'll be a hundred times better than Charle."

Genevieve burst out laughing and lightly pushed her arm. "Be serious."

Seeing Genevieve's helpless expression, Karina, slightly tipsy from the drinks, laughed and raised her hands in surrender. Her voice rose a little as she teased, "Okay, okay, I'm joking. Genevieve, don't think about that man anymore. Tonight is about you."

The Porsche stopped on a quiet street in Tribeca. The entrance to Indigo Club was hidden behind an art gallery, with no obvious sign outside.

Karina showed her digital membership card to the sharply dressed doorman. He immediately opened the heavy blue door.

Behind it was a completely different world. Dim lights covered the room, blues music drifted through the air, and the scent of whiskey and perfume mixed together.

Karina led Genevieve to the bar with a familiar smile. "Come on, babe. Welcome to your new life."

The bartender introduced their signature cocktails. Karina pointed at Genevieve's glass. "One 'Rebirth' for her. And I'll take a 'Revenge.'"

Genevieve picked up the pink cocktail decorated with an orchid and raised her glass toward Karina.

"Thank you, Karri."

Then she finished the drink in one swallow.