My Fiancé Married For A Dare
Language: en
I stood in the echoing marble rotunda of City Hall, my fingers tightly crushing the little paper queue ticket, and suddenly, I laughed. Thirty-five dollars. That was the cost of the marriage license fee. Thirty-five dollars to find out the man I’d spent three years with was a complete fraud. As far as investments went, it was a bargain. Just minutes ago, Chester—the man I was supposed to be marrying today—had taken a phone call, stepped out of line, and vanished into thin air. I had paced the cold floors of the municipal building, calling him dozens of times. Every single attempt went…