FORCED TO MARRY MY SISTER'S BILLIONAIRE FIANCE

The wine glass slipped from my fingers.

I didn't hear it break. All I could hear was my father’s low voice through the gap in the study door.

“Teresa…the only way to save the company… De Luca's has agreed to pay all our debts, but they want a marriage connection.”

My mother sighed. “Then Gabrielle will do it. Elena is too young for marriage, so we can't lose this chance.”

I pressed my back against the hallway wall. Ahead, the grand staircase led down to the ballroom, where guests were celebrating my parents' wedding anniversary.

My father cleared his throat. “Gabrielle won't agree. She's always been stubborn.”

“We agreed on this months ago,” Mother said coldly. “Gabrielle has no big dreams, no job plans. She's been living in our house doing nothing.

At least this way, she'll finally be useful.”

The words hit me like a slap. I pressed my hand over my mouth.

“She won't agree,” Father said quietly.

“She doesn't need to agree.” Mother’s voice turned sharp. “She's our daughter. She'll do what we tell her to do. The De Luca's want a wife for their son, and we need his money. It's a fair deal.”

A fair deal…they were talking about me like a piece of land.

“What about Elena?” Father asked.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Mother said. “Elena is a child. And besides, she's already made it clear she doesn't like Damiano that much to marry him. Gabrielle is our only choice.”

Father was quiet for a moment. Then, he said softly: “She's going to hate us for this.”

“She'll get over it,” Mother said. “She has no other options; no one else will want her. This is the best she can hope for.”

I stopped breathing and looked down at my trembling hands. I was twenty-three years old, not some old thing to be traded.

The study door creaked. I ran to a small sitting room, sank onto a dusty seat, and pressed my palms against my eyes.

The door behind me opened, and I turned slowly.

My mother stood in the doorway, her green dress shining. She looked at me, figuring out how much I had heard.

I stood, but before I could pretend, she stepped inside and closed the door.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Don't lie to me. How much did you hear?”

I shook my head. "Nothing." I was…

“Stop.” She held up one hand, and I stopped. My mother had always had that effect on me; even now, at twenty-three, I felt myself shrink under her gaze. “You heard enough. I can see it on your face. So let's not waste time.”

She crossed her arms. “You already know you're going to marry Damiano De Luca. The wedding will be in three weeks.”

“No,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“No.” My voice came out stronger. “I'm not marrying a stranger so you can fix the company.”

“We are talking about the company that feeds you, clothes you, and puts a roof over your head,” my mother said coldly. “So yes. You are doing it.”

I stepped back. “Why me? Why not Elena?”

My mother's eyes flickered.

“Elena is twenty. She's a child.”

“She's not a child,” I said. “She's almost twenty-one. And everyone knows she's with Damiano. Why can't she marry him herself?”

My mother was quiet for a long moment. Then she sat down on the edge of the settee and looked up at me. “Because Elena agreed to this,” she said.

The words didn't make sense at first.

“What?”

“Elena,” my mother repeated slowly, “was part of the arrangement from the beginning. She's the one who suggested it.”

I felt the floor tilt. “That's not true.”

“It is. The De Lucas wanted a marriage connection. Elena came to us two months ago. She said she loved Damiano but wasn't ready for marriage…not yet. She wanted to travel and enjoy her freedom. But the company couldn't wait.” My mother smoothed her dress. “So she offered another solution. You.”

I couldn't breathe.

“Elena told us you would be perfect,” my mother continued calmly. “You had no plans, no prospects. She said you'd be grateful to be useful for once.”

“She also made it very clear,” my mother said, “that you are to pretend to be the bride. You will tell no one the truth. As far as the world is concerned, Damiano De Luca is marrying you. And Elena will play her part perfectly.”

The tears came. I couldn't stop them.

“So I get to marry her leftover, live her leftover life, and sleep in her leftover bed.”

My mother stood. “You get to save this family. That's what you get.”

“She's been lying to me,” I said. “Every time she smiled at me, she was selling me.”

“Don't be dramatic. She's helping...”

My mother's hand moved towards me, but I stepped back.

“Don't,” I said. “Don't you dare touch me.”

She lowered her hand. “Elena will be at the engagement dinner tomorrow. She will toast to your happiness, and you will smile back and pretend. You will not make a scene. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” I said quietly. “I understand that my whole family has been lying to me. That I'm not a daughter or a sister…I'm a transaction. A body to put in a wedding dress so the bank doesn't take your precious company.”

“Gabrielle…”

“And I understand,” I continued, my voice dropping, “that Elena, my own sister, looked at me and saw nothing but a tool. That's what I am to all of you. A tool.”

My mother stepped towards the door…this is for the best.”

“For the best,” I repeated. “What kind of mother sells her daughter's happiness for a company? Sometimes I ask myself if you and Dad gave birth to me or I was adopted…”

I couldn't even finish. Then I felt a slap across my face. I froze at that moment, my cheek stinging.