Unwanted

HANNAH'S POV:

THE NEXT MORNING:

I woke up the next morning to the sound of movement and immediately wanted to disappear.

The memories of last night came flooding back, making my chest tighten and my eyes burn with unshed tears. I lay completely still, afraid that if I moved even slightly, I'd shatter into pieces.

My body ached in ways I'd never experienced before. But that pain was nothing compared to the hollow feeling in my chest.

I slowly pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, my hands shaking slightly. Elijah was already awake, standing near the window, shirtless. The morning light outlined his sculpted back, making him look like something from a magazine. His phone was in his hand, and from the way his shoulders were tense, he was clearly reading something that bothered him.

He hadn't really seen me last night. Not through the haze of alcohol and his expectations. He'd thought I was Janet the entire time. Even while he touched me, even during the most intimate moments, he'd whispered her name over and over.

I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Suddenly, his voice cut through the silence. "What the hell?"

The words were loud, sharp, making me jump. My heart started racing all over again.

He turned sharply, his eyes landing on me for the first time and really looking at me. I watched his expression shift from confusion to recognition, then to complete shock, and finally to something that looked like disgust mixed with anger.

"You..." he said slowly, walking toward the bed like I'd just committed some unforgivable crime. "Who are you? What are you doing in my bed?"

I forced myself to sit up straighter, even though my body protested. I clutched the blanket to my chest, suddenly hyper-aware that he'd already seen everything. That he'd already taken everything.

"I'm Hannah," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Janet's older sister."

I reached for the document on the side table, my fingers trembling so badly I almost dropped it. I held out the marriage certificate toward him.

"And your wife."

He snatched the paper from my hand like it might burn him. His eyes scanned it once, twice, three times, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. I watched his jaw clench and unclench, the muscle twitching with barely contained rage.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not," I said, my voice cracking slightly. I wanted to explain everything. The trap, my parents' manipulation, how I was dragged into this against my will. But would it even matter? No one ever listened when it came to me.

"Where is Janet?" he demanded, his voice hard and cold. "What the hell did you do?"

Before I could answer, before I could even process the accusation in his tone, there was a knock at the bedroom door.

"Elijah!" a woman's voice called out, bright and excited. His mother. Mrs. Martinez.

Elijah looked at me one more time, his eyes full of something I couldn't quite name, then turned and yanked the door open.

Mr. and Mrs. Martinez stood there, dressed impeccably as if they'd stepped out of a photoshoot. Their faces were lit up with excitement, probably expecting to meet Janet, to welcome their new daughter-in-law.

That excitement died the instant they saw me sitting on the bed, sheets wrinkled around me, tears barely dried on my cheeks, looking like exactly what I was—a girl who'd been used and discarded.

Mrs. Martinez's smile froze, then melted into a frown. "Oh. That's not... who is she?"

"She's Hannah," Elijah said, and the disgust in his voice was unmistakable. He didn't even try to hide it. "The wrong bride."

The words felt like a slap. The wrong bride. Like I was a package that had been delivered to the wrong address. An inconvenience. A mistake.

Mr. Martinez pushed past his son into the room, his eyes sharp and assessing. "Where is Janet? What's going on here?"

I stood up on shaky legs, wrapping the blanket around myself tightly. My throat felt like it was closing up, but I forced the words out. "I'm her sister. There was a... a change in plans. The wedding went ahead with me instead."

Mrs. Martinez's expression shifted from confused to suspicious. Her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. "A change? Without informing us? Without even a phone call?"

"I didn't want this either," I said desperately, feeling tears prick at my eyes again. "I was forced. I tried to tell them, but no one would listen. I..."

"Of course you were," she snapped, cutting me off with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand. "Forced to marry one of the richest bachelors in the country? Forced into a life of luxury? Do you think we're idiots?"

"I didn't even know who he was until yesterday," I tried again, but my voice was too weak. Too broken.

"You're manipulative," Mr. Martinez said coldly, his eyes raking over me with open contempt. "That's what you are. A gold digger who saw an opportunity and took it." He turned to his son. "Elijah, did you know about this switch?"

Elijah let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Does it look like I knew? I thought she was Janet. I was drunk. I was told everything was arranged, that she was waiting for me. I didn't... I didn't look closely enough."

The shame in his voice, the regret, it wasn't for hurting me. It was for being tricked. For sleeping with the wrong woman.

"I'll call the Jones family," Mrs. Martinez said, already pulling out her phone. "This is absolutely outrageous. I want answers. Now."

"I didn't plan this," I said again, my voice cracking completely. "Please, you have to believe me..."

"Save it," Elijah spat, his eyes cold as ice when they met mine. "You played your part perfectly. Congratulations. You got exactly what you wanted."

My lips parted in shock. "You think I wanted this? You think I wanted any of this?"

He looked at me like I was something he'd scraped off his shoe. "Didn't you? A quiet little nobody from a crumbling family suddenly becomes Mrs. Martinez overnight? You knew exactly what you were doing. You probably planned this whole thing."

Something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the last tiny piece of hope I'd been holding onto.

"No," I said, and I was surprised by how steady my voice suddenly was. "I was locked in my room. I was dragged into a dress by maids who wouldn't even look at me. I was thrown into a car and driven here like cargo. I didn't choose this. I was never even seen or heard until someone needed a scapegoat, and that someone was me. It's always me."

Mrs. Martinez's phone was already ringing. She put it on speaker, and my parents' voices filled the room.

"Hello? Mrs. Martinez?" My mother's voice was dripping with false panic, false confusion. She was a better actress than I'd ever given her credit for.

"What is going on?" Mrs. Martinez demanded. "We have Hannah here, not Janet. Would you care to explain?"

"Hannah?" my mother gasped, and I could picture her clutching her chest dramatically. "Oh my God. We didn't know! We thought Janet went with you! She's been missing since last night!"

"Missing?" Mr. Martinez's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes!" my father's voice joined in, shaky and weak, probably playing up his heart attack for sympathy. "We assumed she was at your mansion! She left in her car. We thought... we thought everything went according to plan!"

Then Janet's voice came through the speaker, trembling and broken, every word perfectly calculated. "It was Hannah... She tricked me. She locked me in my room and took my dress. She took my car. She said... she said she'd always wanted what I had, and now she was going to take it."

I felt my blood run cold. I actually laughed, a bitter, disbelieving sound that scraped my throat. "She's lying! They're all lying!"

No one even looked at me. Their attention was glued to the phone.

"Please," Janet sobbed, and I could hear her sniffling dramatically. "Please check the cctv She left me tied up in the trunk of my car. I was so scared. I've been here all night, terrified. She said... she said she wanted to steal my wedding, that she deserved Elijah more than I did."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Elijah turned to me slowly, his eyes hard and accusing. "Is that true?"

"No!" I said desperately. "I didn't do any of that! Why would I? I didn't even know about this marriage until yesterday afternoon!"

But I could see it in his eyes. He didn't believe me. None of them did.

Mr. Martinez held up a hand, silencing everyone. "I don't want this drama in my house. You're getting divorced. This marriage will be annulled immediately. We'll arrange for Janet to come by, make sure she's alright, and then we'll handle this properly."

My knees almost buckled. Divorced. Annulled. Like last night had never happened. Like I hadn't just given away something I could never get back.

But then Elijah spoke, surprising everyone. "No."

"What?" his parents said in unison.

"We're already married," Elijah said, his voice cold and calculated. "If we annul this immediately, the media will have a field day. The Martinez name will be dragged through every gossip column in the country. We'll look like fools." He paused, his jaw working. "We'll stay married for two months. Long enough for the public to lose interest. Then we'll quietly divorce. Say it didn't work out. No scandal. No embarrassment."

His mother looked like she wanted to argue, but then her expression shifted. She was thinking about the optics, the family reputation. "Fine," she said tightly. "Two months. But she doesn't touch anything in this house. She doesn't attend any family functions. She's a ghost."

"I can live with that," Elijah said flatly, not even looking at me.

His mother pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "I can't deal with this right now." She turned and walked out.

His father followed without another word.

Elijah looked at me one last time before heading toward the door. There was nothing in his eyes. No sympathy. No curiosity. Nothing.

The door slammed shut behind him, and the sound echoed through the enormous room.

I stood there, wrapped in a blanket, completely alone, and realized this was my life now.

For the next two months, I would be the wrong bride. The unwanted wife. The girl nobody chose.