The Billionaire Groom Replaced Me With His Tomboy After I Was Paralyzed Chapter 01
I arrived at my own wedding venue in a flowing white gown, only to find an MMA octagon cage bolted straight into the dead center of the stage.
My fiancé, Garrett, was already there, holding hands with his “tomboy bestie,” Roxy. He flashed me a wide smile and tossed a pair of heavy boxing gloves into my lap.
“Sienna, it’s a tradition from back home in Rustwood,” he explained smoothly. “The bride’s supposed to step into the cage and go a round with the groomsmen to bring the family good luck f specifically asked Roxy to step up for it, so just keep it light and make it look good for the crowd.
I looked at Roxy. She had always played the part of the frail, sickly girl, so I didn’t think twice before stepping through the cage doors.
But the split second the round started, she spun on her heel and delivered a devastating, flawlessly professional spinning heel kick straight to my temple, slamming me into a severe concussion that knocked me black before I even hit the canvas.
When I finally woke up, I was paralyzed in a sterile hospital bed. Garrett was standing at the foot of the bed, his fingers tightly intertwined with Roxy’s.
“The guests stuffed so much cash into our wedding cards, Sienna. We couldn’t just call off the wedding because there wasn’t a bride,” he said, sounding entirely reasonable. “Roxy offered to step in and take care of me in your place. You’ve always been so kind; you wouldn’t mind helping us out, right?”
Driven to the edge by pure, suffocating humiliation and severe depression, I rolled my wheelchair
to the roof of our apartment building and threw myself off the edge.
But instead of ending, my eyes snapped open again. I was back – exactly one month before the wedding.
Without a second thought, I turned on my heel and hammered on the heavy iron doors of Apex MMA & Boxing Gym, the most ruthless elite training camp in the city.
“Coach,” I said, staring straight ahead. “Can you teach me how to shatter someone’s skull in four weeks?”
***
Coach Briggs looked me up and down. His gaze lingered on my thin arms and frail legs for three long seconds before a sharp, mocking scoff escaped his lips.
“Shatter a skull? Look at your frame, sweetheart. One solid backhand from a real fighter would send you flying across the room.”
i didn’t argue. I just reached into my bag, pulled out a thick, heavy stack of cold cash, and slammed it onto his desk.
Fifty grand. Every single cent of the secret savings I’d scraped together over the last two years.
Briggs gave it a dismissive glance and slid the money right back across the wood.
“I don’t need your pocket change.”
But then I rolled up my sleeves, exposing the deep, ugly purple bruises Garrett had left on my skin the last time he came home roaring drunk.
Briggs went completely still. Without a word, he reached into his drawer, pulled out a liability waiver, and slid it toward me.
“Sign this,” he said, his voice flat and calm. “If anything happens to you inside these walls, the gym isn’t liable.”
“That includes, but isn’t limited to: broken bones, severe concussions, and internal bleeding.”
I grabbed the pen and aggressively scrawled my name across the bottom line.
As Briggs took the paper back, the casual, mocking smirk vanished from his face entirely.
“Fine,” he said grimly. “Starting today, I’m going to run you through the exact same hellish conditioning my pro fighters go through right before they retire. I don’t know if you’ll be able to shatter someone else’s skull in a month, but I guarantee by the end of this, you’ll want to blow your
own damn brains out.”
On the very first day, my sparring partners slammed me into the canvas forty-seven times.
Every single time my spine cracked against the padding, the horrific images of my past life flashed behind my eyelids.
I saw Roxy’s professional spinning kick knocking me out cold.
I saw myself waking up in that hospital bed, completely paralyzed, with tubes running out of every part of my body.
And I saw Garrett, holding Roxy’s hand at the foot of my bed, wearing that fake, agonizingly pained expression.
“The guests put so much money into the registry, Sienna. We couldn’t just call off the wedding because there wasn’t a bride. Roxy offered to take care of me in your place. You’ve always been so kind; you wouldn’t mind helping us out, right?”
Me? Not mind?
He had taken Roxy to the courthouse and signed their marriage certificate on the exact third day of
my paralysis.
They burned through my money. They moved into my apartment.
The whole town praised Garrett for being a loyal, tragic gentleman, and they called Roxy a saint for
stepping up.
Not a single soul ever asked if the paralyzed bride, left with a shattered skull and a ruined body,
even wanted to keep living.
Fuelled by the raw venom of those memories, I dragged myself up from the mat and waved my
gloved hand at the towering sparring partner.
“Again.”
The partner glanced over at the coach.
Briggs gave a slow, approving nod.
“Take her down.”
That night, I lay flat on the hard, unforgiving cot in the gym’s dorms, my skin mottled with black and blue bruises, without a single inch of uninjured flesh left on my body.
Suddenly, my phone screen lit up the dark room.
It was a text from Garrett.
“Hey babe, just finally getting around to eating dinner after pulling crazy overtime at the office today. I’m personally overseeing everything with the wedding planners, so don’t stress about a thing. Just focus on being the most beautiful bride in the world.”
I stared coldly at the word “overtime,” my thumb shifting over to check Roxy’s Instagram Story. She had posted a selfie exactly three minutes ago.
It was a selfie of her grinning in a gorgeous bridal veil. In the background, draped carelessly over the arm of the velvet sofa, was a deep blue Hermès tie – the exact birthday gift I had bought for
Garrett just last month.
Her caption read: “Only the one who is truly cherished gets the luxury of a sneak-peek fitting.”
My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. I opened our chat and shot Garrett a text, my tone perfectly sweet and relaxed.
“Aw, thanks for working so hard, babe. I trust you completely with the planners; it takes a huge weight off my shoulders.”
Then, I quickly typed out a follow-up text.
“By the way, honey, I just stumbled across a rare, custom haute couture wedding gown. There are only three of its kind globally, but the deposit is two hundred grand. What do you think?”
His reply came after a long pause: “Isn’t that a bit excessive? A standard dress looks just as
beautiful.”
I shot back: “But I’m only doing this once in my life. Plus, didn’t you promise you were going to give me the most lavish, talked-about wedding in the entire city?”
The chat bubble blinked. The other end remained dead silent for nearly two full minutes.
Finally, a single word popped up: “Fine.”
A cold, vicious smirk touched the corner of my lips. I locked the screen, tossed the phone aside, and
rolled over to face the drywall..
Garrett, oh Garrett.
In my past life, you bled me for my money, stole my apartment, and took my fucking life.
This time around, I’m going to drain you dry first.