Chapter 1: Papa’s Sacrificial Lamb

Today was finally the day.

A sharp knock rattled the door of the bridal suite. Collin Vance pushed it open, his deep, booming voice filling the empty space. "You ready, Princess?"

Avery Marie Vance turned slowly. Her father stood in the doorway, flanked by his second wife, Elaine Vance.

"Yes, Father," Avery replied quietly.

Her voice was calm, but beneath her ribs, her heart harboured a deep, burning anger toward them both. She had never wanted this. But fate, and her family's greed, had written a different script.

"Perfect. You’ll be needed at the altar in ten minutes," Collin said. He stepped forward and brushed a cold, lifeless kiss against her cheek before turning to leave. To Avery, his touch felt as icy as death itself.

Elaine stepped up in his place, her manicured fingers aggressively snatching the thick lace veil and yanked it down over Avery’s face.

"If you ruin this, Avery Marie Vance, I will personally pull the plug on your grandmother’s ventilator before the wedding reception is even over."

The venom in Elaine's voice was cold enough to freeze water.

Avery stood paralyzed in front of the grand, gold-framed mirror, her breath catching in her throat. The heavy, diamond-encrusted silk of the wedding gown felt less like a luxury and more like a gilded straitjacket.

"I understand, Stepmother," Avery whispered, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edges of the marble vanity.

"Good. And don’t call me Stepmother," Elaine hissed, adjusting the lace with a tight pinch to Avery's shoulder. "I feel quite old when you call me that. From this moment on, you are not Avery. You are Kendra. If anyone, especially Damien Kingsley, suspects you are the twin who didn't run away, you will lose everything. Do you hear me?"

Avery nodded numbly.

Her twin sister, Kendra, was supposed to marry the notorious "Blind Beast" of the Kingsley empire today. But forty-eight hours ago, Kendra had panicked, packed her bags, and fled to Europe with her secret boyfriend. Terrified of losing the multi-million-dollar dowry that would save the Vance family from absolute bankruptcy, Elaine and Collin had dragged Avery out of her quiet, sheltered life and forced her into the swap.

For Avery, there was no choice. Her grandmother’s medical bills were funded entirely by the Vance estate. One wrong move, and the only person who had ever truly loved her would be gone.

"The ceremony is starting. Smile, Kendra," Elaine sneered, before turning on her heel and sweeping out of the room.

Left alone, Avery let out a long, shaky breath, staring at her shrouded reflection.

Just get through the ceremony, she told herself, trying to steady her racing pulse. He’s blind. He won’t be able to see the difference between my face and Kendra's. We just must survive in the same house. I can do this.

Ten minutes later, the heavy oak doors of the grand cathedral swung open.

The heavy scent of expensive lilies and burning incense flooded Avery's senses. Ahead of her lay a long, velvet-carpeted aisle. At the end of it stood her groom.

Damien Kingsley.

He was breathtakingly handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and dark, perfectly styled hair. But his eyes were completely concealed behind a pair of sleek, pitch-black designer sunglasses. He held a silver-tipped cane in his right hand, standing with a rigid, imposing posture that radiated pure power and absolute coldness.

The quiet whispers of the high-society crowd buzzed in Avery's ears as she walked.

"Poor girl, marrying a cripple..."

"He used to be a genius, now he’s just a blind monster..."

"I heard he’s ruthless. The accident made him completely mad..."

Avery blocked them out, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Step by step, she forced her legs to move toward the altar.

When she finally reached him, her hand was trembling violently.

Slowly, she placed her small, cold hand into Damien's.

The moment their skin met, a jolt of pure electricity shot up her arm. His hand wasn't weak or frail; it was large, warm, calloused, and gripped hers with an unexpected, possessive strength.

As the priest began to read the vows, Avery felt a strange, unsettling sensation.

Even though Damien was wearing pitch-black glasses, she felt an intense, burning gaze boring right through her veil. It felt as if he was looking directly into her soul, stripping away her secrets one by one.

Terrified, she tried to pull her hand back slightly, but his grip only tightened, locking her in place.

"Do you, Damien Wayne Kingsley, take Kendra Matilda Vance to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the priest's voice echoed through the high arches of the cathedral.

"I do," Damien murmured. His voice was a deep, rich baritone that sent a sudden shiver straight down Avery's spine.

"And do you, Kendra Matilda Vance, take Damien..."

Avery swallowed the thick lump in her throat. She stared up at the dark lenses of his glasses. "I do," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Avery’s breath hitched. A kiss? She hadn't prepared for this.

Slowly, Damien stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. The scent of cedarwood, expensive rain, and pure, masculine authority enveloped her entirely. He raised his left hand, his long, elegant fingers gently lifting the heavy lace veil from her face.

As the lace cleared, Damien's eyes swept downward. His gaze caught the faint, delicate birthmark peeking from the edge of her collarbone, just above the neckline of her dress.

It was a mark Kendra did not have. A detail nowhere to be found in Kendra’s highly detailed background file.

A smirk threatened to touch the corner of his lips, gone as quickly as it appeared.

Avery held her breath, looking up at him, completely oblivious. Up close, she could see the faint, beautiful outline of his dark eyes behind the tinted lenses. They were perfectly still. Focused on nothing.

He can't see me, she reminded herself, desperately trying to calm her racing heart. He’s blind.

Damien leaned down, his face inches from hers. But instead of pressing his lips to hers, he tilted his head, his warm breath brushing intimately against her ear.

His lips parted, and he whispered in a tone so low, so dangerously sharp, that only she could hear it.

"You're trembling, my sweet wife. And your perfume..." He took a slow, deliberate breath, inhaling the scent of her skin. "Vanilla? My file said Kendra only wears French jasmine. Tell me... are you afraid of a blind man? Or are you afraid of me finding out who you really are?"

Avery’s eyes widened in sheer horror.

Before she could even gasp, Damien pulled back, a ghost of a cold, knowing smirk playing on his lips, and pressed his lips firmly to hers.