LOGINBlurb Everyone believed Ariana was the villain. On the day of her twin sister's wedding, Ariana is forced to wear a wedding dress that was never meant for her and marry billionaire Ethan Vaughn—a man who believes he's marrying the love of his life. One lie binds them together. One secret threatens to destroy them. When the truth finally comes to light, Ethan's love turns into hatred, and Ariana becomes the target of his anger for a betrayal she never planned. But what happens when the woman who started it all returns, demanding the husband she abandoned? Will Ethan keep chasing the past... or realize that the woman he was meant to love has been standing beside him all along?
View MoreAriana ~
The Bridal Suite The heavy silk of the custom designer gown felt like lead against my skin. I stared at my reflection in the full-length gilded mirror, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My fingers trembled as I tried to smooth down the delicate, intricate lace at my waist, a cold sweat breaking out across my collarbone. The heavy mahogany door burst open, slamming hard against the plaster wall. Mother swept into the room, her eyes flashing with pure panic and venom. She grabbed my bare shoulder, her artificial nails digging in deep enough to bruise. "She's gone," she hissed, her voice a frantic, venomous whisper. "That ungrateful, selfish little bitch took a private flight to Paris an hour ago. If the Vaughn family finds out they've been publicly humiliated on live television before the ink on this corporate merger is dry, your father and I will lose everything. We'll be ruined." I swallowed hard, my throat burning as tears pricked the back of my eyes. "Where is Aria? She was supposed to be the one—" "It doesn't matter where she is!" Mother cut me off viciously, shoving a heavy, diamond-encrusted veil over my dark-chestnut hair. "You are walking down that aisle. You are twins. You have the exact same face. With the veil covering your eyes and everyone too terrified to look Ethan Vaughn directly in the face, no one will know the difference until it's far too late." "Mother, no—" I gasped, stumbling backward against the dressing table. "I can't marry Ethan. He's been in love with Aria for six years. When he finds out the truth—" "When he finds out, you'll already be a legally bound Vaughn, and your father's debts will be paid," she snarled, dragging me by the arm toward the heavy oak doors that led to the chapel. "You've spent your whole life hiding in the shadows, Ariana. Consider this your first and final useful act for this family." The cathedral organ swelled, the deep, rumbling notes vibrating right through the floorboards. Before I could draw another breath, I was pushed past the threshold into the blinding light of the aisle, a sea of elite Manhattan faces blurring around me as I began my slow walk toward the altar. ★ (The Altar) Ethan Vaughn stood tall, his broad shoulders encased in a custom charcoal tuxedo. His sharp jawline was set like carved granite, and his piercing obsidian eyes radiated cold, unyielding authority. For six years, he had tolerated Aria’s flighty moods, her expensive whims, and her shallow social circles because he believed absolute loyalty was the foundation of his empire. Today, he was sealing that final bond. As I glided down the aisle toward him, I could feel the weight of his gaze. Aria had always walked with a swaying, arrogant confidence, her designer heels clicking sharply, her attention constantly darting to the cameras and the socialites in the pews. I walked with a soft, quiet grace, my shoulders slightly hunched, trying desperately to shrink into the heavy silk of the dress. When I finally reached the altar, Ethan looked down into my eyes through the sheer lace of the veil. His obsidian gaze locked onto my face. The soft, striking hazel irises met his. They didn't sparkle with triumphant ambition like Aria's usually did. Instead, they carried a profound, trembling vulnerability that made a sudden, sharp stillness settle over him. The priest began to speak, but Ethan barely seemed to hear the words. He reached out, his warm, powerful fingers sliding under the edge of the veil to lift it back. My breath hitched in my throat. I closed my eyes for a split second, bracing for the storm to hit right then and there. Ethan stared down at me. The face was identical—the exact same heart-shaped jaw, the same aristocratic nose. But the soul radiating from beneath the skin felt entirely foreign to him. It was pure. It was raw. A slow, dark frown touched his lips, a flicker of suspicion dancing in his dark eyes. But before he could pull back or demand an explanation, the bishop prompted us to exchange our vows. "Do you, Ethan, take this woman..." Ethan’s gaze locked onto my terrified hazel eyes. A strange, magnetic pull held him in place. His pride, his empire, his absolute need for control—all of it blurred behind the haunting innocence of the woman standing before him. "I do," Ethan said, his deep voice vibrating quietly through the solemn cathedral. My heart shattered and soared all at once as I whispered my vows in return, stepping blindly into a marriage built on a lie that would eventually burn us both to ashes.Ariana~By the first week of March, the bitter bite of winter in Toronto had begun to soften. The sharp ice clinging to the windows of Northlight Publishing was replaced by a gentle, spring thaw, and the pale sunlight filtering into the fifth-floor offices felt crisp, bright, and full of promise.I stood in front of the vanity mirror in the executive restroom, adjusting the collar of my soft lavender knit dress. At twenty-two weeks pregnant, my bump was an undeniable, beautiful curve—round, high, and carrying the incredible, thriving weight of three little souls. "You three are certainly making yourselves known today," I whispered softly into the quiet room, smoothing my palm over my lower stomach. As if in response, three distinct, rhythmic flutters tapped against my palm in rapid succession. A radiant, quiet laugh escaped my lips. They were getting stronger every week, and under Dr. Chen's watchful eye and Leo's absurdly protective routine, I felt healthier and more peaceful than
Ariana~By mid-February, winter had laid a heavy, beautiful blanket of white across Toronto. Frost lined the tall glass panes of Northlight Publishing, framing the bustling city below in a quiet, sparkling frame of ice. Inside the fifth-floor offices, the atmosphere was warm and electric. We were finalizing the heavy spring catalog, and the layout room was alive with the hum of printing proofs, steaming coffee mugs, and lively editorial debates. I stood at the central wooden island table in the layout room, adjusting a stack of high-gloss cover proofs. I wore a soft, blush-pink cashmere sweater dress paired with warm tights and flat leather boots. At eighteen weeks pregnant, there was no hiding the truth anymore. My bump was a round, prominent, and beautiful reality. Carrying triplets meant my body was blossoming far faster than a typical single pregnancy, but under Dr. Chen's strict care and Leo's relentless attention, I had never felt healthier or more vibrant."If we move the au
Ariana~Two months swept past like a beautiful, golden whirlwind, carrying the city of Toronto out of the crisp days of late autumn and plunging it into the serene, glittering heart of deep winter. By mid-January, snow blanketed the rooftops of King Street in thick layers of white powder. Inside the warm, bustling fifth-floor offices of Northlight Publishing, however, life was thriving like never before. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass window of the executive suite, holding a warm cup of herbal tea, watching the snowflakes dance past the glass. I wore a soft, slate-blue wool sweater dress that draped comfortably over my figure. I was now nearly sixteen weeks pregnant—entering my second trimester. My hand drifted down instinctively, resting over my stomach. The subtle rounding from two months ago had transformed into a distinct, undeniable, beautiful bump. Carrying triplets meant my body was showing much earlier than a single pregnancy, and every morning when I looked in the
Ariana~Monday morning arrived with a sharp, freezing wind that whistled through the high-rise towers of downtown Toronto. The skies were a brilliant, clear cobalt blue, but the frost on the windows of St. Jude’s Hospital reminded the city that winter was rapidly approaching. I sat on the edge of the padded examination table in Dr. Chen's private suite, smoothing down the front of a soft lavender wool sweater dress. My heart was thumping a nervous, fluttering rhythm against my ribs. Beside me stood Leo. True to his word, he had canceled every morning meeting on his schedule. He had driven me to the hospital in his private sedan, carried my coat, and now stood by the examination table looking impeccably sharp in a dark navy suit. But despite his formidable, towering stature, the slight tightness around his jaw and the way his dark brown eyes kept flicking to the quiet ultrasound monitor betrayed his own quiet anxiety. The heavy door opened, and Dr. Chen walked in holding a digital


















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