THE BILLIONAIRE'S REPLACEMENT BRIDE

SCARLET

On the 5th of July, 2014, Scarlet Lawson died holding white roses.

“Where is he?”

The priest’s eyes held an impatience that didn’t mirror the calm words that had left him. I turned to the church doors, a part of me hoping he’d miraculously never come through. 

So that this whole charade would get cancelled and I wouldn’t have to go through with it. 

Hope was a fickle thing, but was it so bad holding on to it now? 

“He should be here anytime soon.” 

My mother had gotten out of her seat at the front row and was now standing a small breath from the alter.

I bit my lip when she continued to stare. 

I knew what that look meant, and it only made the silk lace gown feel heavier.

For some reason, my eyes wandered to the placard that stood at the far end of the room. Vivian weds Julian.

A cold hand slid over mine as my mom leaned forward, in what looked like affection. I knew it wasn’t. She never really gave a damn if I was alive or not. Not until now.

“No mistakes, Vivian.” She sneered. “Understood?”

My chest tightened, a wave of nausea crawling up my throat. But I nodded still. Right. 

Because to every single one of the wedding guests here, I was Vivian Lawson, the woman who would be getting married to one of their own.

My mother began to make a show of smoothing down my wedding gown but I couldn’t even look. Every now and then, I’d glance at the guests behind me, all eagerly watching a bride they didn’t recognize.

Slowly, my mother stepped back to admire her work. Her eyes glinted with something I couldn’t put my finger on. “Oh, my beautiful Vivian.”

My skin felt clammy at her words, the urge to hurl the contents of my stomach at her clawing at my throat.

“I’m not, Vivian,” I wanted to scream out.

But no one here could know that.

To any other person, we could pass off as twins if you put us side by side. But I wasn’t anything like her.

She was supposed to be here. Not me. How I wish he wouldn’t come…

The thought of him alone sent a wave of dread down my spine. If the stories were true, then I’d be stuck with a paraplegic for the rest of my life. A monster if I can call him that.

I turned to my mother sharply. “Mother.”

She must have noticed the look in my eyes, as her expression soured. “Vivian.”

I can’t do this.

“Mother, I am afraid I have been jilted at the altar.”

She took in a shaky breath. “He’ll be here, Vivian.”

When she reached out for my hand, it seemed like an affectionate gesture. But I had to stay inhumanly calm even as her nails subtly dug into my skin.

“He’ll be here, darling. You have nothing to worry about.”

I turned to the guests, all eagerly watching in anticipation. Memories of what happened the night before hit my mind. Every single one of my senses screamed to run away from this sham of a marriage.

“Would you rather have your father dead?”

My step-mother’s sharp glare found me. I knew what that look meant. I couldn’t run. Not even if I truly wanted to.

Julian Cross’ proposal two weeks ago had been the silver lining we had been praying for. My father’s illness had reached a fatal stage. If I wanted him to survive, then there was no other choice.

They were counting on me to play the part well. But the thought of having to put myself through this threatened to drive me nuts.

I shook my head. “I can’t.”

My mother glared. “Vivian, you—”

“I can’t!” I insisted, tears blurring my vision as I took a shaky step back. “I’m not doing this. I can’t—”

The door swung open before I could finish my words. Every whisper hushed into silence as the silhouette walked in.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure I could breathe.

“He’s here.” My mother’s words somehow reached my ears.

The man that walked in was not disabled. He wasn’t in a wheelchair. And he was not the monster I’d been made to believe. 

I simply stood in shock as he made his way to the altar with the aura of someone who didn’t have to waver. 

Eyes remained glued to him, jaws hung slack. I couldn’t blame there.

He stopped in front of me, eyes briefly holding my gaze. His dark hair glistened effortlessly, steel eyes holding an obvious disinterest. 

Every other man in the room paled in comparison to him; a man who looked like the embodiment of Adonis himself.

When he stepped closer, a glint of something unreadable echoed behind his eyes. “It would seem my bride isn’t eager to marry me.”

My breath hitched. He wasn’t smiling, and something about his words made my stomach churn. In silence, he turned to the priest and sent him a nod.

The man awkwardly took his place at the podium and began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, for a most beautiful union…”

I wanted to run. As far away as I could from a man as beautiful and dangerous as this. My heart was slamming into my chest faster than I could keep up.

The priest presented the rings and turned to me. “Do you, Vivian Lawson, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

My stomach fluttered when Julian glanced at me. Cold enough to thaw away at my act. I nodded, my voice cracking a little.

“I do.”

And now Julian. He looked…almost bored as the priest recited the vow to him. “I do.”

Almost like he was signing some contract. There was no emotion or hesitation from him. The officiant smiled, and held out his hands at both of us. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Wordlessly, Julian pulled my waist in, my body now dangerously close to his. I could feel his warmth, feel the tension radiating off both of us. 

His eyes furrowed a bit, and my heart did a painful backflip. Had he noticed? I thought he’d say something.

Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine. A chaste kiss. But one that had an astounding effect nonetheless.

The whole room fell into loud applause. I started to lean back, but he pressed me closer, threading his fingers through my carefully styled waves.

A small gasp of surprise left me, but that was quickly drowned out when he slid his tongue into mine.

It might have seemed sweet, but it wasn’t meant to be anything but possessive. This was him marking me as his before everybody here.

He pulled away, ignoring the deafening cheers from the people in the cathedral. I was dazed, my finger subconsciously moving to my lips.

My first kiss.

He turned to the crowd, sending them one clean wave and a perfect smile for the cameras. I simply stood there while he exchanged some pleasantries with the priest. 

When he turned to me again, my stomach did a little flip. His grip on my waist was tighter this time as he pulled me closer, his mouth dangerously close to my ears.

“Quite the actress, Scarlet.”

My blood went cold. Dread crept up my spine as I turned to him. His smile was chiseled, perfect for the cameras focused on us.

“I asked for your sister. Not you.”

He knew the truth. All this time, and he’d already known from the moment he walked in.

How did he know?

I was trapped.