He Left Me At The Altar, Unaware I Had His Son

Antonela Bianchi slid onto a stool at the counter of the hottest bar in town.

She ordered a glass of cognac and threw it back in a single swallow.

She didn't care that she was still in her wedding gown, or that she was about to become the talk of the town. All she wanted was to forget she had been abandoned at the altar.

She ordered another, hoping to drown the memory of the day.

Antonela had agreed to an arranged marriage with a man she knew only by name.

Though she knew nothing of his background, she had been excited. Benjamin was a wealthy man who could offer her a stable future. She had eagerly awaited their wedding, only for it to end in this public humiliation.

The church had been packed, the music swelling to fill the space. It did little to mask the crushing turmoil in her heart when the news came: the groom wasn't coming.

At twenty-two, her dreams of building a family and having children had just been shattered.

She left the church. But instead of locking herself away to cry, she came to this bar.

In that moment, her future had vanished. She was now her family's greatest disappointment.

She wished she could find Benjamin, just once, to make him pay for what he'd done to her. But it was too late. Everything was ruined. All that was left was another drink, and the promise of forgetting, if only for one night.

"Is there a costume party in town I don't know about?" a man's voice murmured close to her ear, and Antonela rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed tonight was some smartass making a crack about her dress.

Lost in her misery, she hadn't even heard him approach. She turned, a sharp retort on her lips, but the words died in her throat.

His gaze was deep, so intense it felt like it could strip her soul bare. But what truly stole her breath and held her captive was how utterly striking he was.

"A costume party would be the least of my problems," she forced out, her voice tight as she offered a wry, humorless smile. "Today was supposed to be my wedding, but the bastard left me at the altar."

The man glanced away, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips before it vanished.

Her eyes lingered on him, tracing the sharp lines of his face.

He was powerful; she could see the hard lines of his chest and shoulders through his white dress shirt, the top few buttons undone. His face was all sharp angles, his eyes a startling, intense green.

"I'm sorry to hear that." His words pulled her back to reality.

"Don't be," she replied, looking away. "Come to think of it, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Imagine if he had shown up, and I found out he was hideous, or had a bunch of weird habits and addictions."

The man seemed entertained by her candor. He signaled the bartender, but only asked for a bottle of water. Strange.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a long swallow.

"I don't want to talk. Why would I tell a stranger I was forced to marry a man I'd never even seen? And even though I've never laid eyes on the man, I'm still miserable about being abandoned. God knows why," she grumbled into her glass. "Who wouldn't want to marry Antonela Bianchi?"

No, really, he thought, his eyes tracing her profile. Only a fool would let her go.

She was a natural redhead, her gray eyes a striking contrast to her freckled skin. The way her full lips closed around the rim of the glass as she took her tenth drink sent an unexpected jolt of desire through him.

"What do you say we get out of here?" he murmured, his voice low. "A walk might help clear your head." He shifted closer, and the light brush of his arm against hers sent a shiver down her spine.

"That's a great idea," she breathed, the thought of being with him sending a fresh wave of heat through her.

She pushed herself to her feet, a little unsteady from the alcohol. She swayed, and he was there in an instant, his hand closing firmly around her waist to steady her. His touch was firm, his scent intoxicating.

She'd kicked off her heels sometime ago. Barefoot, she left the bar by his side. He kept a steadying hand on her until she was settled in the passenger seat of his car.

If Antonela had been sober, she would have known getting into a stranger's car was insane. But she was drunk, and the thought never even crossed her mind. She let him lead her into a hotel, and his heated kisses stole the breath from her lungs.

Through the haze, she vaguely registered him murmuring another woman's name-not hers-but in that moment, she didn't care.

When she woke the next day, she was alone, tangled in a sheet, with no clear memory of how she'd gotten there.

She was slowly pulling on her dress, her head throbbing with a relentless ache, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She glanced at the screen and recognized the name. Dominique.

She answered but said nothing, bracing for the inevitable flood of words.

"Where are you, Antonela?" Dominique's voice was a frantic buzz in her ear. "Your mother has called me a dozen times since yesterday..."

"Don't, Dom," she interrupted her best friend. "Just come get me. I'm at the hotel near the entrance to the city. I think I did something reckless."

"What did you do, Antonela?" her friend asked, her voice laced with worry.

"We'll talk later, I promise," she said, her head pulsing. "And please, bring painkillers. My head is killing me."

It was clear Dominique wanted to press for more, but Antonela ended the call.

She gave a cursory look for her shoes, but they were nowhere to be found. With a frustrated sigh, she left the hotel in her rumpled wedding dress, barefoot. Her makeup was smeared, her hair a tangled mess. She stopped on the curb in front of the building and waited for Dominique to come get her.

Twenty minutes later, a beat-up old compact pulled up to the curb. She slid into the passenger seat, meeting her best friend's horrified gaze.

"What are you doing at this hotel?" Dominique breathed, her eyes wide as the pieces clicked into place. "Oh my God. Don't tell me you..."

"Slept with a stranger after being left at the altar by another stranger?" Antonela finished for her, a bitter humor in her tone. "Yep. That's exactly what I did. But he was so gorgeous, Dom."

"You're telling me you slept with a man and you don't even know his name?" Antonela's silence was answer enough. "You're joking, right?"

"I was going to sleep with a stranger either way," she replied, massaging her temples. "At least this time, I got to see his face. And he was the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life."

Dominique drove her home in stunned silence. The moment Antonela walked through the door, she was met with a wall of reproachful glares from her parents. She knew she had just traded one disaster for another.

"How could you do this?" Henrico's roar of fury made Antonela flinch.

She had barely set foot in the house before her father unleashed his frustration on her.

"Look at you." His furious gaze raked over her. "You're a complete mess, parading around town in that... that wedding dress. You are an embarrassment to this family."

Francesca drew closer, her face flushed with shame, but Antonela held her ground.

She should have been used to her father's casual cruelty, but a foolish part of her had always hoped to soften his hardened heart. That hope had shattered the moment she was left standing alone at the altar.

"Don't say that, Henrico," Francesca scolded, shooting her husband a stern look before turning to Antonela. "It's not her fault she was jilted."

Across the room, her younger sister, Alessia, was stifling a laugh, a quiet, smug sound that didn't quite carry.

Deep down, she was thrilled Antonela hadn't married the city's most eligible billionaire.

Knowing just how much her sister despised her, Antonela finally found her voice.

"You shouldn't be angry with me, Dad." Her own voice was tight, disappointment curdling into a sharp, defensive anger. "I was forced to marry a man I didn't even know, and then he abandoned me." "Why don't you go ask him why he humiliated you?"

Henrico was struck dumb for a moment before he closed the distance and slapped her hard across the face.

It was the first time he had ever hit her, though his words had left the same kind of sting for years.

Her face burning, she slowly turned to look at him. All she saw in his expression was pure, unadulterated hatred.

"Don't forget you still live under my roof." He pointed a trembling finger at her. "And that marriage was our only way out. If you can't land a decent husband, then starting today, you will work and help support this household."

The words didn't feel real. It struck her with the force of a second slap: Henrico cared only about money and would wound his own daughter to get it.

Antonela felt a suffocating knot form in her throat. Her family was on the verge of bankruptcy. Marrying Benjamin Dylon had been her father's last hope.

Working wasn't the problem. The problem was being tired of her father dictating her every move.

"That's not fair!" she burst out. "Why do I have to work when Alessia does nothing?"

"Are you seriously comparing yourself to me, Antonela?" Alessia sneered, letting out a self-satisfied little laugh.

"I don't know what the hell you find so funny." Antonela pressed her lips together, her annoyance mounting. "Do you think my life falling apart is some kind of joke? While I'm expected to carry this family on my back, what exactly is it that you do? Paint your nails?"

Alessia shrugged, but the taunting smile never left her face.

"Enough of this nonsense," Henrico cut in, his voice sharp. "I don't need to explain that Alessia is a full-time student. She can't work. Please, Antonela, go to your room before I do something I'll regret."

Antonela's mouth flattened into a thin line. She hadn't been raised to talk back to her father, but there were things she couldn't let stand. Still, she held her tongue. Arguing now would only get her thrown out of the house.

She spun on her heel and started for the stairs when Alessia's voice called out again.

"While you're at it, throw that wedding dress away." She laughed. "I doubt anyone in this town will ever marry you after being left at the altar."

Antonela swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and ran to her room. She cried in silence, choking back the sobs.

The next morning, she'd hoped the mood in the house would be calmer. But the moment she sat down for coffee, she was ambushed by her father's demands.

He tossed a newspaper onto the table and spoke without missing a beat.

"You have a job interview at your uncle's company." He snatched the coffee cup from her hands. "Hurry up. You're already late."

Antonela nodded, feeling lost, as she watched her mother's inconsolable expression. She decided not to defy her father, if only to spare her mother any more distress.

"Can I at least know what position I'm applying for?" she asked dryly.

"You'll be the private secretary to the owner," he said, already grabbing her by the arm and forcing her to her feet.

It took everything Antonela had not to fall apart right there, but his words only fueled her fury.

She went to Francesca and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, a silent attempt to soothe her.

She returned to her room and changed. Then she called Dominique, asking for a ride to the interview.

The drive was silent, as if she were heading to her own funeral.

It was hard to breathe, let alone think. She had no control, no say in her own life, no path to the future she'd once wanted.

When the car pulled up in front of the towering office building, Dominique immediately offered to go in with her.

"I don't want to ruin your day," Antonela said, her voice sounding utterly defeated.

"I have nothing important to do," Dominique insisted, trying to offer some comfort. "You need support right now. That's what matters."

Dominique was an excellent friend, but even her presence couldn't shield Antonela from the impact of her father's decisions. She forced a smile, swallowing the urge to cry.

They stepped into the elevator. The second they reached the front desk, Antonela froze.

Dominique might think she was about to be sick. But all the color drained from her face, her eyes wide, as if she'd seen a ghost.

She dropped into a crouch, hiding behind the reception desk.

Dominique's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and concern. "What are you doing, Antonela?" she hissed, rushing to her side and grabbing her arm. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Worse," Antonela whispered, peeking over the counter at a man standing a few feet away. "That's the man from the bar last night."

Dominique followed her gaze. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she composed herself.

Then she straightened up, looked the receptionist in the eye, and asked, "Can you tell me that man's name?"

"Oh, of course!" The receptionist glanced at the man Dominique indicated and smiled brightly. "That's Mr. Benjamin Dylon, the future owner of the company."

Antonela squeezed her eyes shut. That couldn't be true.

The pieces slammed together in her mind with dizzying force. Benjamin Dylon, the fiancé who had abandoned her at the altar, was the same man she had spent the night with.

"We need to get out of here." Antonela crouched low, grabbing Dominique's hand and pulling her toward the emergency stairwell.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Dominique dug in her heels, pulling her to a stop and staring into her friend's frightened eyes. "You have a job interview."

"I can't work here," she said. Her heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst. She stumbled back, leaning against the cool wall before sliding down to sit on the steps. "I know my father will kill me when he finds out I skipped the interview, but I can't work for Benjamin. The man who left me at the altar and then, pretending not to know me, took me to bed."

"You're not exactly innocent in all this, Antonela." Dominique crouched beside her, her voice softening at the sight of her friend's despair. "But come on, he's practically a Greek god. Who could resist that?"

Antonela's gaze narrowed, a silent reproach for Dominique's comment. She knew that deep down, Dominique was only trying to help. But in this situation, there was nothing anyone could do.

Had Benjamin done it on purpose?

Antonela didn't doubt it for a second, but she refused to humiliate herself by chasing him down for an explanation.

She pushed herself back to her feet, a fragile calm settling over her nerves. It was time to leave. She hurried down the stairs. She had to disappear from this place before she accidentally ran into him.

"I could go up there and demand an explanation," Dominique offered, her words stopping Antonela dead in her tracks. "He's going to have to explain exactly why he left you at the altar."

Antonela had no doubt she was capable of doing it.

"Forget it, Dominique." She grabbed her friend's shoulders, her voice pleading. "Let's just get out of here and pretend none of this ever happened."

"And what are you going to tell Henrico? He won't accept any excuses, Antonela. You'll just end up starting another war with your father."

"Better a war with him than facing that green-eyed devil. Besides, I'm sick of following Henrico's orders."

"Well, at least he's the most handsome green-eyed devil I've ever seen."

The remark earned a weary eye-roll from Antonela as she pushed through the exit. Silently, she climbed into the car, the weight of Dominique's words settling on her.

Henrico wouldn't accept her excuses, no matter what they were. She urgently needed a job-to appease her father's fury, to gain her independence, and to finally leave that house.

"It's not like there's only one job opening in this entire city," she grumbled. "I can find something better, somewhere I don't have to face the man who deceived me."

"You're right," Dominique said, already driving toward Antonela's house. "But that job was the best one you were going to get."

"Why do I get the feeling you're trying to pressure me?"

Dominique shot her an offended look. "I want what's best for you," she said, her eyes fixed on the road. "And if the best is working for Benjamin, then so be it."

But Antonela wouldn't be swayed. She asked Dominique to change course, and they stopped at a small café downtown.

While picking at her breakfast, she scrolled through online job listings.

A knot of frustration tightened in her stomach. For the second time that day, she had to admit Dominique was right. She wasn't going to find a better job than the one she'd just run from.

Despair was beginning to set in when her phone rang. Her blood ran cold when she saw the caller ID: Henrico.

Her heart leaped into her throat. Her face paled as she answered, and Henrico's furious voice immediately assaulted her ear.

"Where are you, Antonela? Oscar just called me. He said you never showed up for the interview."

She swallowed against a dry, painful lump in her throat. She hadn't imagined the news would reach her father so quickly.

"I don't want to work there, Dad," she said, forcing bravery into her voice. She heard him snarl on the other end of the line. "I'm asking you, just this once, let me choose where I work."

"And you think you're going to find a better job than that one?" His voice was so loud she thought her eardrum would burst. "What are you going to do for work, Antonela? A waitress? Is that it? Because with your education, that's the best you can hope for."

His words landed like another slap across her face. She swallowed the sting of his cruelty. "I'm looking," she said, and he grumbled again. "Don't expect me for lunch. I'll be home late tonight."

She ended the call before he could reply, knowing it would infuriate him. She closed her eyes tightly as Dominique placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Although Dominique didn't agree with her decision, she was clearly willing to support her to the bitter end.

Antonela spent the entire day away from home. By the time she returned, her parents were already asleep.

The next day, she did the same. She left early and came back late, doing anything to avoid a confrontation with her father.

A month passed. She still hadn't found a job, not even as a waitress.

Henrico's demands were becoming unbearable, and Antonela began to consider the unthinkable: going back and humiliating herself by accepting the job with Benjamin.

When she met Dominique that morning, she asked her to drive her back to the company. She had already arranged a second interview with her uncle, Oscar, but something happened on the way that changed everything.

The moment Dominique parked, Antonela scrambled out of the car, doubled over, and retched, the morning's breakfast spilling onto the pavement.

She hadn't told anyone, but for the past week, she'd been fighting constant waves of nausea and an intense, bone-deep exhaustion.

"I don't like this. This is a terrible sign." Dominique's eyes widened. She closed them for a second, as if processing a dreadful thought. "How long have you been feeling nauseous?"

Antonela wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up, startled by the look on her best friend's face.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Just answer the question, Antonela," Dominique said, her tone impatient.

"A few days," she replied. "But I know what you're thinking, and there's no chance. Not the slightest."

"Are you sure you used protection when you slept with Benjamin? Because if I remember correctly, you don't really remember what happened that night at all."

Antonela fell silent as a cold, creeping dread washed over her.

The second Dominique saw the realization dawn on her face, she grabbed her arm and dragged her toward a nearby pharmacy. They bought a pregnancy test, and Dominique pushed her into the store's public restroom.

"Do we really have to do this now?" she asked, staring uneasily at the white test strip soaking in the small plastic cup. "I'm going to miss the interview for the second time. Henrico will never forgive me."

"Imagine what he'll do when he finds out you're pregnant." Dominique pulled the test from the cup and held it up for Antonela to see. "Positive."

The world tilted on its axis.

This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be pregnant with her ex-fiancé's child.