I am Laurel Henderson, heiress of Henderson Enterprises. Today was supposed to be my wedding day with Enoch Westfield, the young heir of Westfield Corporation. But the groom, who was meant to be front and center, was nowhere to be found. “You’re telling me Enoch ran away?” I asked, my voice cold. “That’s what they’re saying…” the maid stammered, trembling as she explained. My parents were livid. Both the Henderson and Westfield families had spent months preparing for this wedding. Every major elite family in New York City had been invited, and the media was eagerly covering it. If Enoch had any issues with the wedding, he had plenty of opportunities to voice them. But to flee on the day of the ceremony? That was a direct slap in the face to the Hendersons. After offering me some reassurances, my parents hurried off to figure out how to salvage the situation. I sat in the corner, quietly thinking about how to proceed with the reception when I heard a commotion at the entrance. Instinctively, I looked up. Walking through the door in a tailored black suit was a strikingly handsome man. This man was Christopher “Chris” Westfield, the current head of Westfield Corporation and, technically, Enoch’s father. Despite being thirty-five, he looked like he was barely in his twenties. Chris rarely attended large social events. Even I had only met him a handful of times. So seeing him here, now, drew the attention of every family present. People practically tripped over themselves to get to him. Staring at Chris’s perfect features, a wild idea flashed in my mind. As I watched him politely turn down everyone’s advances, he suddenly walked straight toward me. “Mr. Westfield,” I greeted him with a polite smile, though I couldn’t hide a hint of vulnerability in my voice. His voice, low and melodic like a cello, came next. “Miss Henderson, I apologize for Enoch’s behavior. I’ve already sent people to find him. When he’s caught, you may decide what happens to him.” “I’ll inform everyone that the wedding is postponed, and Westfield Corporation will cover all expenses.” It was a perfect solution, but I had a better plan. “Mr. Westfield, this engagement has always been between the Hendersons and the Westfields, right? The groom doesn’t necessarily have to be Enoch, does it?” “What?” His eyes darkened, clearly taken aback by the sudden turn. After a pause, he asked, “Well, who would you choose then?” I smiled sweetly, extending my hand. “Would you be my groom?”