Chapter 2- THE WRONG BRIDE

“There’s a family willing to help us,” my mother explained quickly. “Very powerful. Very wealthy. But they have conditions.”

My stomach tightened. “What kind of conditions?” I asked.

My sister let out a soft, shaky breath. “They want their son to be married so that they can get a grandchild out of him, because of how old they already are.”

I turned to her. “And who,” I asked slowly, “is getting married?”

Silence filled the whole room immediately.

“You are,” my mother said. I stared at her. For a moment, I thought I had heard wrong. “Me?” I said.

“Yes,” she replied, like it was obvious. “You’ll marry him.”

“Why me?” The question came out sharper than I intended. “Why not…” I stopped.

But it was already clear. My sister finally looked up, her eyes glossy. “I can’t,” she said softly. “I’m not ready for something like that and besides you're older than me.”

“Not ready?” I clenched my hands in my lap. “And I am?” I asked.

“You’re older,” my father said. “ And more… suitable.”

Suitable. Like I was something to be used so that they can get out of the idea of the family business crumbling down. “This isn’t fair,” I said, my voice tightening. “You can’t just decide this for me.”

“We can,” he replied flatly. “And we have.”

My heart started to pound. “I’m not doing it,” I said.

My mother’s expression hardened. “You don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” I responded back.

“Not when everything is on the line,” she snapped. “Do you want to see this family destroyed?”

I swallowed. “This isn’t my fault, how can I get married to a man I don't even know, talkless of love? .”

“No,” she said coldly. “But it’s your responsibility, you are not going to be doing this out of love but for the sake of the family.” I let out a shaky breath. “So you’re just… sacrificing me?”

“No one is sacrificing you,” my father said. “You should be grateful. This is an opportunity, you're getting married to a very wealthy man. You should be thanking us, not behaving this way.”

“An opportunity?” I repeated, disbelief creeping in.

“To marry into a powerful family,” he continued. “Most girls would be lucky.”

“I’m not most girls.”

“Clearly,” my mother muttered. The room felt smaller. Tighter. “You don’t want him,” I asked my sister quietly. She hesitated. Then, barely above a whisper. “No.”

“Then I won’t do it,” I said again.

My father stood up.

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor made me flinch.

“You will,” he said. “Because if you don’t, it'll be dangerous for you even if you're my daughter.”

I met his eyes.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t look away. The words settled between us. Heavy and serious. Something inside me cracked. Not loudly. Not all at once.

Just enough to let the truth in. I had never been their daughter. Only ever their spare.

I didn’t agree. Not really. They just stopped giving me room to refuse. Everything moved too fast after that night. Calls were made, dates were fixed, and decisions were taken without me in the room, even when I was standing right there. Every time I tried to speak, someone interrupted with, “It’s for the best,” as if that settled everything. My silence became permission in their eyes, and before I could catch my breath, my future no longer felt like it belonged to me at all.

The man I was supposed to marry was never meant to marry me. His name echoed through the house like a warning. Powerful, wealthy, untouchable. People spoke of him carefully, as if even saying his name too loudly could summon him. But the woman he chose wasn’t me. It was Lia. My sister.

I learned the truth by accident, pausing outside my father’s study when I heard my mother whisper, “She sent her picture.”

“And he agreed immediately?” my father asked.

“More than agreed,” she replied. “He demanded the wedding happen immediately.”

Then my father said something that made my blood run cold.

“Good. She can never find out.”

There was a pause. Then my mother laughed softly. “He must really like her.” My steps slowed. “He asked specifically for Lia,” my father added.

My chest tightened. “And we’re giving him her sister.” My mother trailed off. “Are you sure he won't find out?” My mother added.

A silence followed. Then, “I don't think he will, they both look so much alike, only that Betty was more mature than her. And she's useless to us, I don't want to have my sweet little Lia leave him. She is still quite young. So we are giving him what we have,” my father said.

I didn’t wait to hear more. I walked away.

That night, I went to Lia’s room. She was sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone like nothing was happening. “You sent him your picture,” I said as I walked in with anger written all over me.

She looked up, surprised. “How did you know that?”

“That's not what I asked you.”

She hesitated, then smiled faintly. “He asked for it.”

“And you sent it.”

“Of course.”

I stared at her. “So he thinks he’s marrying you?”

Her smile faded a little. “He won’t know the difference.”

I closed the distance between us in a few steps, snatched the phone from her fingers, heart pounding as the screen lit up with her photos. My sister, naked and shameless, full breasts cupped in her hands, nipples stiff and rosy, one leg lifted to expose her slick, shaved pussy glistening under the light. She’d captioned it with a filthy promise for him.

Rage and a dark, forbidden heat twisted low in my belly. “You’re sending your body to the man they’re forcing me to marry?” I hissed, backing her against the wall. She bit her lip, breathing faster, cheeks flushed.

“It’s just until the wedding…”