THE BILLIONAIRE’S EXCHANGED BRIDE

Third person pov

The bubbly champagne danced against the rim of the crystal flute as Aria traced the glass with a manicured red nail. Her eyes remained locked on the glowing phone screen, staring at the snapshot of Ethan holding her sister with such fierce, unguarded tenderness.

A low, throaty laugh slipped past her lips, echoing off the expensive Italian marble of her temporary Manhattan suite.

"Look at him," Aria murmured to the empty room, shaking her head with dark amusement. "The ruthless billionaire, completely wrapped around my twin's little finger. He really has no idea."

She tossed the phone onto the plush duvet, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to watch the restless, glittering river of traffic crawling across the city below. The skyline of New York stretched out infinitely, a towering monument of concrete, steel, and unbridled ambition—and she intended to reclaim her crown at the very top of it.

She raised the champagne flute to her lips, taking a slow, appreciative sip as a calculating plan solidified in her mind.

"Let them have their little domestic fantasy," Aria whispered, her hazel eyes narrowing with cold resolve. "Ten months down. With the two months left on our original timeline, plus another full year after that... I'll let them play house for a full two years."

She turned away from the window, a triumphant, wicked smile curving her red lips.

"I'll wait until the two years are completely up," she declared softly into the quiet suite. "That gives my dear sister plenty of time to sink deeper into a life she can never keep. You handle the rest of the waiting down there, Ariana. When my timeline is complete, I'll walk back through those gates, pull the rug out from under both of them, and take back everything that was always mine."

☆

Back inside the sprawling limestone fortress of the Vaughn estate, the morning sun was just beginning to slice through the heavy velvet drapes of the master suite.

Ariana lay awake in the center of the massive king-sized bed. The space beside her was already cold and empty; Ethan had left hours ago for his early morning executive review with Marcus at Vance Global Logistics.

She stared up at the intricate plaster molding of the ceiling, feeling a profound, heavy ache hollow out her chest.

Every square inch of the room still carried the faint, intoxicating trace of his cologne. Every cushion, every blanket, every memory of his hands holding her over the weekend felt like a cruel reminder of a life she had no legal or moral right to inhabit.

She rolled onto her side, pulling one of his discarded pillows against her chest, and let out a shaky, quiet breath.

*Ten months.*

Aria's words echoed relentlessly through her mind. In just two short months, she would hit the one-year mark of living this massive, elaborate fraud. And with another full year stretched out beyond that before Aria planned to return, she had a staggering two full years of borrowed time hanging over her head. A twenty-four-month sentence of pretending to be her sister, wearing a stolen ring, and falling deeper and deeper in love with a man who would inevitably despise her the second he learned the truth.

A single tear slipped silently from the corner of her eye, soaking into the soft fabric of Ethan's pillow.

She was trapped in a gilded cage of her own making, waiting for an axe that she knew was bound to drop. But as she clutched the pillow tighter, a dark, desperate realization took root: two whole years meant two more years of waking up in his arms. And right now, she wasn't ready to let go of that dream for anything in the world.