Married To My Husband’s Father

The taste of blood is strikingly like iron, cold and sharp, pooling beneath a tongue that had spent a lifetime speaking only in polite terms.

In her final moments, Evelyn did not think of her shattered ribcage or the twisted, smoking metal of the Aston Martin pinned beneath a jackknifed semi-truck on the rain-slicked highway. She did not think of the inheritance she had unthinkingly signed away three hours earlier. She thought of the scent of jasmine perfume, Chloe’s perfume clinging to the silk sheets of her bed, and the sound of her husband’s breathless laughter echoing through the baby monitor she had accidentally left on.

“She thinks she’s the queen of the Vance empire,” Julian had whispered, his voice dripping with cruel, mocking amusement that Evelyn had never heard in their seven years of marriage.

“She doesn’t even realize she’s just a placeholder. When the old man dies, and the trust dissolves, Evelyn won’t have a single dime to her name. Neither will her family.”

And Chloe, her childhood best friend, the woman who had held the train of Evelyn’s wedding dress, had giggled.

“Then make sure she doesn’t survive the drive to the estate tonight, darling. The rain is dreadful. Accidents happen.”

They had cut her brake lines. They had stolen her life, her wealth, and her dignity.

As darkness finally pressed down on Evelyn’s chest, extinguishing the last remnants of her breath, a single, burning vow crystallized in her dying mind–If there is a hell, I will drag you both down into it with me.

…

Evelyn gasped, sitting bolt upright as air flooded her lungs with the force of a physical blow.

She threw her hands to her chest, expecting the jagged agony of broken bone and torn flesh, but her fingers met only the smooth, unobstructed texture of Egyptian cotton. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, but it was beating. She was breathing.

“Mistress Evelyn? Are you alright? You screamed.”

Evelyn’s head snapped toward the voice. Standing by the door of the sunlit bedroom was Martha, her family’s old housekeeper. Martha looked exactly as she had a decade ago, her hair more gray than white, her apron pristine, her face free of the deep lines of grief that had etched themselves after Evelyn’s parents passed away.

“Martha?” Evelyn’s voice was hoarse, a fragile whisper.

She looked down at her hands. They were unblemished. The heavy diamond band Julian had placed on her finger was gone. In its place was a simple, delicate promise ring her father had given her for her twenty-first birthday.

Slowly, deliberately, Evelyn reached for the smartphone resting on the nightstand. It was an older model, bulkier than the one she had owned when she died. She tapped the screen.

June 13, 2016.

Ten years. Time had thrown her back exactly a decade into the past.

Tonight was the night of the Vance Summer Gala, the very night Julian Vance was set to publicly announce their engagement, sealing Evelyn’s descent into a beautifully gilded trap.

Evelyn threw back the covers and approached the full-length mirror. The woman staring back at her was twenty-four.

Her skin looked radiant, untouched by the stress of a failing marriage and the quiet, systematic poisoning Julian had subjected her to in later years. But her eyes, her eyes told a different story. The naive, starry-eyed socialite who believed in fairy tales was gone. In her place stood a woman who had looked into the abyss and learned how to hunt in the dark.

She sat at her vanity, her mind racing with a cold, terrifying clarity.

In her past life, she had been a pawn. She believed Julian loved her. She believed Chloe was her sister. She ignored the strange discrepancies in the Vance family, the missing financial records, and the ominous silence of Julian’s estranged father, Arthur Vance.

But three days before her death, Evelyn discovered a hidden safe in Julian’s private study. Inside, she hadn't just found proof of his infidelity–she had uncovered the blueprints for an elaborate inheritance fraud scheme.

Julian wasn't Arthur’s biological son. He was the product of an affair his mother had with a rival businessman, a secret Julian and Chloe’s family had been using to blackmail the Vance matriarch before her passing.

Arthur Vance, the formidable, reclusive titan who dominated the financial world from a skyscraper of glass and ice, was completely estranged from Julian. He tolerated the boy only because of a complex, decades-old corporate charter that linked the family assets until Julian turned thirty-five or married a woman of equal aristocratic standing, Evelyn.

Julian needed Evelyn to unlock his inheritance. And once he had it, he planned to discard her.

Evelyn traced the curve of her jaw in the mirror. A slow, lethal smile touched her lips.

“You want my status to inherit the Vance empire, Julian?” she whispered to the empty room. “Then I will give you a mother-in-law you will never forget.”

To ruin a man like Julian, it wasn't enough to break off the engagement. He would find another heiress. Chloe would still whisper in his ear. The Vance machinery would still grind her family’s legacy into dust.

To utterly destroy them, she had to take away the one thing Julian craved more than life itself–the Vance name, the Vance wealth, and the Vance throne.

She needed to marry the king. She needed to marry Arthur Vance.