The Heir in Disguise

Lucas stood at the altar. Today was his wedding day—a beautiful ceremony meticulously arranged by the Quinns, his fiancée’s family, and him, an orphan who had adopted the last name Wren to rewrite his own story.

His hands clutched each other, stiff and clammy, as he stood alone on the altar. His bride, Isla—the woman he believed was his forever—had yet to arrive.

The once-vibrant church, decorated in soft whites and pale pinks, now felt like a mausoleum of silence. Aside from Lucas, the only other person present was the priest, who stood directly in front of him. The man’s face was tight with concern and quiet curiosity as he waited. They had both been standing here for over three hours now.

“Are you sure she’s still coming?” asked Priest Adam, his tone gentle but edged with doubt. He was the only priest in Velmoria City—the only man with the divine authority to join two souls together in sacred union.

“She’ll come,” Lucas replied firmly, though he barely believed it himself. “Please, just hold on a little longer.” His voice cracked slightly. He raised his wrist and stared at his watch.

“3 p.m.,” he muttered. The ticking hands mocked him.

Isla and he had been engaged for six months, dating for two years before that. He had loved her from the moment they met—loved her with the unwavering loyalty of the moon drawn to the tide.

And she had said she loved him too. She had chosen him—a nobody, an orphan—despite being the last daughter of the Quinn family, one of the wealthiest households in Velmoria. He used to think that love like theirs was proof that soulmates existed.

But lately... there had been signs. Strange pauses in her replies. Odd excuses to avoid long conversations. A shift in her eyes when he talked about the wedding.

He had brushed it all off, blamed it on nerves. Who wouldn’t be anxious before a big day?

He checked the time again.

“3:20 p.m.,” he muttered, eyes glued to the cathedral doors. Nothing. No cars pulling in. No familiar faces. Just pedestrians passing by, minding their own lives on the street beyond the cathedral, beside the massive billboard announcing “The Wedding of Isla Quinn and Lucas Wren.”

He swallowed hard. “There must be something causing the delay,” he said aloud, trying to convince himself more than the priest.

“Maybe I should call her,” he offered quickly, as though the suggestion might change everything.

Adam raised a single brow. He shook his head slowly, a man who had already waited too long, but still honored his duty. It was his role, after all—to wait, and to bless the union. If there was to be one.

Lucas forced a weak smile, then stepped down from the altar. He didn’t want the priest to grow impatient with him. He didn’t want this moment to fall apart completely. Not yet.

He needed to hear her voice. He needed to know that this was just a delay, not a desertion.

Walking into the dressing room, Lucas closed the door behind him. Even though only he and the priest were in the cathedral, he wanted privacy. He understood that walls could carry secrets, and what he was about to learn—he might not be ready to share.

He dialed her number.

“The number you are trying to call is kindly busy. Please try again later,” the robotic voice announced.

Lucas blinked.

In all their time together, Isla’s number had never once responded with “busy.” Not once.

When she was unreachable, it was either due to bad network coverage, or she had put her phone on Do Not Disturb for meetings. Sometimes, her phone was simply off when she needed silence. But this? This was unfamiliar.

He knew her habits intimately. He had studied them like scripture. In fact, the only time he’d ever struggled to reach her was when she traveled out of town for her advanced exam and warned him beforehand. Even then, she texted as soon as she could.

Now, on their wedding day… her line said busy?

His stomach tightened. He turned toward the mirror, and the man staring back looked unfamiliar—tense, unmoored, quietly crumbling.

Lucas had once worked as a low-level security guard for a telecommunications company. The title may have been modest, but the knowledge he picked up there had stayed with him.

When a number says unavailable, the line has no signal.

It means the number you're trying to call has blocked you.

His pulse roared in his ears like a war drum.

Blocked. Had Isla blocked him—on their wedding day?

He tried again. Same response.

His phone fell slightly in his hand as he stared blankly into the mirror. His reflection mocked him—sharp suit, golden wristwatch, freshly styled hair—all on credit. He’d borrowed from tailors, watch stores, and stylists just to keep his promise to her: “I’ll look my best, for you.”

He had kept his promise. But had she ever meant to keep hers?

A flicker of anger sparked beneath the surface of his disbelief.

There was a way to confirm it. In telecom, every blocked number could be masked. He could privatize his caller ID, slip past the block. The knowledge wasn’t something he ever imagined using for this, but now?

He hesitated. He didn’t want to harass her. He wasn’t that man.

But he needed to know.

Just once.

He dialed again—this time cloaked.

“Hello… Isla on the line. Who is this?” her voice answered.

Clear. Unhurried. Calm.

It wasn’t the voice of a woman stuck in traffic or panicking because she was late. It wasn’t even the voice of someone who had forgotten an important event.

It was the voice of someone relaxed, detached, and unbothered. Like today wasn’t her wedding day at all.

Lucas didn’t reply.

He ended the call without a word.

He stared again into the mirror, watching a silent storm gather behind his eyes.

His worst fear had come to pass.

The woman he adored—the bride he had sacrificed and suffered for—had left him at the altar.

But he would not cry.

He had been orphaned by fate, hardened by survival, and sharpened by life. This? This was betrayal, yes. But it would not break him.

No. She hadn’t just abandoned him. She had humiliated him.

And now, Lucas Wren would make sure Isla Quinn remembered exactly what it cost to play with a man who loved her too much—and lost everything.