The Billionaire Heiress Returns Too Late to Beg

The day Nigel Delgado fell for the girl I'd been sponsoring, I was sitting at the head table of our engagement banquet, waiting for him to slide the ring onto my finger.

The emcee had said it three times now. "Will the groom please place the ring on his bride."

Three hundred guests watched the silence stretch, and their expectant faces slid into confusion, then into the bright, ugly anticipation of people who sense a scene coming.

I gripped the bouquet until my fingertips went white.

"Ms. Henson, Mr. Delgado is outside. But—"