My Homeless Billionaire-Husband - Chapter #3 - Free To Read

The Crawford mansion was filled with the joyful energy of a wedding celebration. Staff hurried through the hallways, carrying trays of sparkling champagne and beautiful flowers. The lovely scents of roses and vanilla floated in the air, making everyone feel welcome.

Madelyn stood in her suite, looking at her reflection in the lovely gilded mirror. The soft sound of her wedding dress rustling was the only noise in the quiet room. She adjusted her veil and took a moment to breathe, hoping to calm the butterflies in her stomach as she prepared for the big day.

“You look stunning, sweetheart,” her mother said from the doorway, a proud smile plastered on her face.

“Thanks, Mom,” Madelyn replied, forcing a smile as she smoothed the satin fabric over her hips. She glanced at the clock. Two hours to go.

The voice in the back of her head grew louder. Was this really what she wanted?

Madelyn left the suite under the pretense of checking on the flower arrangements, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She found herself walking toward the guest rooms where her cousin Jessica was supposed to be handling the last-minute details. Turning the corner, she heard muffled laughter—Jessica’s unmistakable giggle.

Curious, she pushed the door open slightly and froze.

Nathan, her fiancé, was standing shirtless, his lips locked with Jessica’s, while he was holding her—wearing nothing but tiny panties—and her legs around his waist. His hands gripped her ass and her fingers trailed up his chest. The floral arrangements were forgotten on the dresser.

“Nathan…” Madelyn’s voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and fury. The scene shattered her like glass hitting concrete.

Nathan didn’t flinch. He simply turned, his expression cold and unrepentant. Jessica had the nerve to smirk, slowly pulling her dress back on as if Madelyn had walked in on something trivial.

“Madelyn, let’s not overreact,” Nathan said, his tone infuriatingly casual.

“Overreact?” Her voice rose, trembling with anger. “I’m supposed to marry you in two hours!”

“And maybe you should think about why I’m here with Jessica instead of excited about that,” he replied, his words like a slap to her face.

Jessica stepped closer, folding her arms as she leaned against the wall. “Let’s not pretend this was some fairytale romance, Maddie. You’re not exactly the warmest person.”

Madelyn’s breath caught in her throat. “You... I trusted you. Both of you.”

“Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to what Nathan actually wanted,” Jessica said, her voice dripping with venom.

The tears came hot and fast. Madelyn turned on her heel and ran, the sound of Jessica’s smug laughter echoing behind her.

Out on the street, the cold air bit at her exposed shoulders. Madelyn didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t stay in that house. Her veil snagged on a street sign, and she ripped it off without a second thought, the satin trailing behind her like a ghost.

Her feet carried her through the familiar streets until she found herself at the hospital’s side entrance. The spot where she always brought coffee.

And there he was.

Brian sat with his back against the wall, his coat pulled tightly around him. He noticed her instantly, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Madelyn?” he asked, standing quickly.

She stopped a few feet away, catching her breath. Mascara streaked her cheeks, and her wedding dress was smeared with dirt. She looked at him, the weight of the day crashing down on her shoulders.

“I need a drink,” she said, her voice raw. “Are you coming or not?”

Brian hesitated. He was close—so close—to cracking Morrison’s operation. But the desperation in her voice tugged at something buried deep inside him. He stood, brushing himself off.

“Lead the way.”

They ended up at a dive bar a few blocks away, the kind of place where no one asked questions. Madelyn was still in her wedding dress, but no one batted an eye. Brian ordered two whiskeys, neat.

“Start talking,” he said, sliding the glass to her.

She downed the whiskey in one go, grimacing as it burned down her throat. “I walked in on Nathan and my cousin while they were about to make love. They didn’t even try to hide it.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Ouch.”

“Ouch doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Madelyn let out a bitter laugh. “I should’ve known. He was always so... calculated. Perfect on the surface, but underneath, nothing real.”

Brian sipped his whiskey, watching her carefully. “So what now?”

“I don’t know.” She leaned forward, her elbows on the sticky bar. “I spent so much time convincing myself this wedding was the right thing. The safe thing. Now it feels like my whole life’s been a lie.”

He tilted his head. “Safe doesn’t sound like your style.”

“What would you know about my style?” she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Enough to know you’re not the kind of person who plays it safe,” he said, his tone lighter than usual. “You’re bringing coffee to a guy like me every day. That’s not exactly conventional.”

Madelyn laughed, the first genuine laugh she’d had all day. “Touché.”

As the night wore on, the whiskey flowed, and their conversation drifted. Madelyn talked about her childhood, her struggles with living in the shadow of her powerful family, and her desire to carve out a life that wasn’t tainted by their influence.

Brian listened, occasionally offering carefully curated stories about his “old life” as Greg McAllister—a man who lost everything in the market crash. But even he found himself opening up more than he intended, sharing snippets of truth hidden within the fiction.

They laughed over shared sarcasm and traded jabs about their worst decisions. By the time they stumbled out of the bar, the streets were quiet, the city bathed in the orange glow of streetlights.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the thin curtains of a cheap motel room. Madelyn stirred first, the pounding in her head reminding her of the previous night.

She blinked, sitting up slowly, and froze.

Brian was lying beside her, his arm thrown across his face. On the nightstand between them was a piece of paper.

A marriage certificate.

She reached for it, her hands shaking as she read the names: Madelyn and Greg McAllister.

Her gaze flicked to her left hand. A simple gold band glinted in the sunlight.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

Brian groaned, sitting up and rubbing his temples. He followed her gaze to the certificate, then to the rings. His eyes widened.

“Did we...?”

“Apparently,” Madelyn muttered, holding up her hand.

They stared at each other in stunned silence before Brian let out a dry laugh. “Well, I guess safety's officially out the window.”