Chapter 4

The Graham mansion was quiet, but tension sat heavy in its walls.

Downstairs, behind closed double doors, voices rose. Two men. Sharp tones. One colder than the other. It had started like a conversation.. low, almost polite.. but it didn’t stay that way.

Carl Graham paced the room, jaw tight, eyes flickering with frustration.

“I was the one they wanted, Ryan. Me. I should’ve been at that altar.”

Ryan sat on the armrest of one of the leather chairs, arms folded, legs crossed. Calm. Distant. But beneath the surface, a storm brewed.

“You didn’t want Johanna,” Ryan said plainly. “You made that clear.”

Carl scoffed. “Yeah, I didn’t. But they didn’t send Johanna, did they?”

Ryan’s expression didn’t change.

“They sent someone else,” Carl continued. “Someone I hadn’t met. That girl… Lucia.. she’s not what I expected.”

Ryan's brows pulled slightly, but he didn’t speak.

Carl didn’t miss the flicker in his half-brother’s eyes.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden. Why? Starting to get attached?”

Ryan stood now, slowly. His voice was calm but colder. “I agreed to marry whoever they sent. You’re the one who backed out.”

“You think you’re doing me a favor?” Carl said, stepping closer. “You really think I wouldn’t take her now if I could? You think you’d stand a chance if I decided I wanted her back?”

Something in Ryan snapped, even if just for a second.

He stepped forward. “You had your chance.”

Carl’s lip curled into a sneer. “Or maybe you just don’t want to lose to me again.”

Ryan’s jaw tensed.

“You’ve always done what the old man asked. Always taken what’s left. Why not this too? Why suddenly now do you care who she marries?”

The silence between them thickened.

Then Carl tilted his head. “Is there something personal in this? Something you’re not saying?”

Ryan didn’t answer.

“You don’t even know her,” Carl said, shaking his head. “So what is it, huh?”

Neither of them noticed the soft footsteps just outside the door.

Lucia stood near the hallway wall, frozen.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She’d come down to ask someone where the kitchen was or get water or something.

But the voices.. she’d heard Ryan’s first, then another voice she hadn’t known. So she stayed.

And listened.

“I’m not giving her up, Carl,” Ryan said finally, voice low.

Carl gave a dry laugh. “Right. So now you’ve decided to play husband. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

He walked past Ryan, brushing his shoulder.

“But don’t forget… this wasn’t your wedding. You were just the replacement.”

Lucia’s heart skipped. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the wall.

Carl’s voice echoed one last time before the front doors slammed shut.

“Remember that.”

Inside the living room, Ryan ran a hand through his hair and let out a sharp, tired breath.

Then, something made him pause. A faint noise. He turned toward the hallway, eyes narrowing.

Lucia ducked quickly, slipping away from the doorway. Her breath caught as she found a door open just down the hall.

Without thinking, she slipped in and pulled it closed behind her, careful not to make a sound.

Footsteps approached. Paused.

Then moved away.

Lucia stayed still, pressed against the wooden wall of the room she’d just entered. Her heart was racing.

Did he know?

It didn’t seem like it. After a few seconds, she heard the front door shut again.

Only then did she exhale.

The room was warm. Neat. Shelves lined with books and soft lighting. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood and old paper.

A study.

Not the dusty, cramped one her father had kept at home. This one was something out of a magazine. The shelves were spotless. The rug under her feet thick and soft.

A decanter and glasses sat untouched on a side table.

She leaned back against the wall, hands still shaky.

Ryan… was also a substitute?

The thought looped in her head, twisting everything she thought she knew. The kiss. The coldness. The contract. The wheelchair.

Had it all been an act?

And why had he been so protective about the marriage if it didn’t mean anything?

None of it made sense.

Her eyes drifted to the desk. A folder sat right in the center. Black, gold-lined edges, like it had been placed with care. It was too beautiful. Too deliberate.

She stared at it.

She knew she shouldn’t.

But her curiosity won.

She stepped closer, hands trembling slightly, and picked it up. The cover was smooth. Almost soft to the touch. When she opened it, her eyes were drawn to the first page.

Some kind of legal document. She didn’t understand most of it. Names. Figures. Some medical or institutional letterhead she didn’t recognize.

Then… a date.

She blinked. Her heart stilled.

That date.

That exact date.

It was the same day her mother died.

She took a step back. Tried to shake it off.

It could be coincidence. It had to be. It wasn’t like her mother owned that day.

But then her eyes flicked to the next page.

An address.

Lucia stared at it. No. It couldn’t be.

She read it again.

Her knees buckled slightly.

It was the same street. The exact place her mother’s accident happened.

The file slipped from her fingers, pages scattering on the floor.

“No,” she whispered. Her hands covered her mouth as she bent down quickly, trying to pick them up. Her fingers were clumsy now, her eyes wet.

As she reached for the last sheet, the door swung open.

“What are you doing here?”

Lucia froze.

Ryan stood in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, his eyes locked on her.

His voice wasn’t angry. But it was sharp. Demanding. Cold.

Lucia’s hands hovered over the scattered pages.

She looked up.

And everything in her face said: I heard everything.