Their Replacement Bride Wants Blood

“One hundred million? And a blood contract to disown you?!”

My father slammed his cigar into the ashtray. His brow was tight, his eyes full of disappointment and reproach.

“Aurora, we dragged you out of the slums! Just because you have my blood doesn't give you the right to ruin this family! We gave you your life back, and now you’re trying to bleed your own parents dry?” he roared.

I stared at his self-righteous act. It was laughable.

“Bleed you dry?” I smirked, throwing the papers I’d prepared onto his desk. “You have seven days until the Volkov wedding. No bride, and that psycho Don will burn the entire De Luca family to the ground. You can’t bear to see your precious, fragile daughter suffer, right? So what’s the problem? You’re not willing to pay to save her life?”

The study went dead silent.

My mother stood there, pale-faced. Her voice cracked. “Aurora, you’ve known hardship. You’re stronger than Isla. She has a heart condition. She’ll die in Russia. Please, just help the family…”

A muscle in my father’s jaw twitched. He stared at me. Not like his biological daughter. Like a stranger.

But he weighed the odds faster than anyone. Seven days. He had no way out.

Finally, he grabbed a hunting knife from his desk, sliced his palm without hesitation, and smeared his blood over the signature line. A true Mafia blood oath.

My mother followed. The deal was done.

I coolly folded the papers. From this moment on, I had nothing to do with these cold-blooded animals.

I walked out of the study without a single tear. This was nothing.

Compared to the sick joke of my twenty-fifth birthday two weeks ago, this wasn't even funny.

That night, right after Julian begged me to take Isla’s place, I was jumped in a dark alley on my way home.

Street thugs. Hired by Isla.

They beat me to a pulp. I lay in a filthy puddle of blood and mud, the taste of copper in my mouth.

Just when I thought they were going to kill me, Julian showed up with his men.

I thought he came to save me.

But then Isla burst out from behind him, sobbing her eyes out.

“Julian, I swear I don’t know them! Aurora hired them herself!” She clung to his arm, tears streaming down her face. An Oscar-worthy performance. “She wanted to play the victim, to frame me! She just doesn’t want to go through with the marriage!”

And Julian believed her. Just like that. Not a flicker of doubt.

He didn’t even glance at my broken body. His eyes went red. He stormed over, grabbed my collar, and yanked. The pain was searing.

“Aurora, if you didn’t want to do it, you could have just said no!” he screamed in my face. “But to stage this? To hurt yourself and blame Isla?! This pathetic act is just stupid!”

I tried to speak, but a torrent of blood choked me. I couldn’t make a sound.

“For this viciousness, you will pay a price!”

He threw me back into the filth like a piece of trash. He turned to his guards and gave the order that became my living hell.

“Lock her in a shipping container at the Southside docks! Let her rot in the dark!”

He knew. He knew I had crippling claustrophobia.

The booming echo of the iron door locking was the sound of absolute despair.

In that black, tight, airless metal box. I clawed at the walls. Every breath was like swallowing razor blades.

Just before I blacked out, I remembered my eighteenth birthday.

I had just been brought back to the family. I watched, shy and hopeful, as Julian held out his hand to me. I thought he chose me for our arranged marriage because he loved me.

What a fucking joke.

He always loved Isla. His childhood sweetheart.

So what was I? A human shield. A goddamn punching bag to protect his precious Isla.

I pushed open my bedroom door, took out my phone, and dialed a number.

A deep voice with a thick Russian accent answered. “Miss De Luca. The Don is very interested in your proposal.”

“I need two things,” I said, straight to the point. “First, get me the full security footage from the Southside alley two weeks ago. I don’t care how. I want a crystal-clear shot of Isla’s face when she paid the thugs.”

“Second, start a rumor. Say the city is about to buy the Southside port for a secret, massive price. I want Julian to sink every liquid dollar the Caldwell family has into grabbing that land. In exchange, in one week, I will arrive with one hundred million in cash, and absolute control of New York’s Southside port. A wedding gift for the Volkov Don.”

“A pleasure doing business, future Donna.” He chuckled and hung up.

In seven days, I was going to give them a gift.

I turned to my dresser. A photo frame. Me and Julian at our engagement.

In the picture, his arm is around my waist. He’s smiling like the perfect lover.

I picked up the lighter next to it. Click. A blue flame licked the photo paper.

Julian’s fake smile twisted, shriveled, and turned to black ash.

Watching it burn, I whispered.

“This time… ‘til death.”