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Two
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2026-04-13 19:13:04Celeste's POV
I turned and walked out before he could respond. I didn't head back to the maid’s quarters, I headed toward the grand ballroom.
The air in the grand ballroom smelled like expensive perfume and old lies. I stood in a corner, my back against the cold marble wall, holding a silver tray of champagne carefully in my hands. My hair was pinned so tightly into a bun it felt like it was pulling the skin from my forehead.
To the many rich guests laughing and clinking glasses, I was invisible… I was just a staff, I was part of the background. They looked past me as they took their drinks, not noticing that I had the same hazel eyes as the man whose name was written in gold at the entrance."Numb. Just stay numb," I whispered to myself, my voice lost in the swell of the orchestra.
Across the room, my half-sister Vivienne stood at the center of attention. At twenty-two, she looked perfect in every way. Her blonde hair fell in soft, expensive waves over a dress that cost more than my mother earned in ten years. She laughed gently and leaned into our father, Howard.
Howard looked every bit the king of the Harrington empire… polished, powerful—but fake inside. He hadn't looked at me once tonight. He never did. In this room, I wasn't his firstborn daughter, I was the mistake he never wanted, proof of a past affair with a woman he hurt, and who later died broken-hearted.
"More champagne, girl. Don't just stand there like a statue." Margaret scoffed without glancing at me, her eyes were fixed on the grand entrance, her face a mask of anxious greed. She was the one who had moved me into the attic the day after my mother’s funeral. She was the one who had handed me a scrub brush and told me that “shame must work to earn its keep.”
"Yes, ma'am," I murmured, dipping my head.
"Straighten your back," she whispered. "Tonight is the most important night in this family's history. Chen is coming. If he sees so much as a speck of dust on you, I’ll have you sleeping in the cellar."
I didn't argue, I simply walked into the crowd, weaving between the giants of industry. They had no idea that while I was cleaning their suites and emptying their trash for the last seven years, I had been reading their ledgers. I knew which of them was embezzling from their partners. I knew which of them had offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. Most importantly, I knew that my father was broke.
The Harrington empire was a hollow shell. The luxury, the lights, the laughter? It was all a facade built on a foundation of rotting debt. They needed Damien Chen to sign a check, or by Monday morning, the Harrington name would be worthless.
Suddenly, the music stopped. The large wooden doors at the end of the hall swung open, and silence fell over the room like a heavy weight. Damien Chen didn’t just walk into a room, he took it over. He was thirty-eight, but he seemed like a man who had lived many lives. He was tall, and his figure stood out in a dark charcoal suit that looked perfectly fitted to him. His hair was dark, his face looked sharp and strong like it was carved from stone, and his ice blue eyes? Oh my goodness! They were so alluring.He was the man who broke companies for sport. And tonight, he was here to buy a bride.
"Mr. Chen," Howard stepped forward, his voice booming with a fake confidence that made my stomach turn. He extended a hand. "Welcome. We are honored."
Damien didn't take the hand, he simply looked at Howard, then at Margaret, and finally at Vivienne. Vivienne struck a pose, her smile practiced and gleaming. She was the prize, the eldest Harrington daughter or so the world believed.
"Let’s get to the point, Howard," Damien’s voice was a low, smooth rasp that carried to every corner of the room. "I don’t care for the theatrics. The merger documents are in the library?"
"Of course, of course," Howard stammered, his face reddening. "Vivienne, darling, why don't you lead Mr. Chen to the library? You’ve studied the architectural plans of the new expansion, haven’t you?"
Vivienne stepped forward, her hand reaching out to touch Damien’s arm. "It would be my pleasure, Damien."
Damien looked at her hand as if it were an interesting insect, then stepped back, his gaze scanning the room. And I noticed her getting embarrassed.
"The contract," Damien said, loud enough for the board members nearby to hear, "was very specific. I save your empire from the bankruptcy you’ve been hiding, and in exchange, I marry the eldest Harrington daughter. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Margaret chimed in, stepping toward Vivienne. "Our Vivienne is ready to fulfill her duties to this family. She is our pride and joy."
I stood ten feet away, my tray of champagne glasses trembling. Our Vivienne. The lie was so smooth and practiced. They had spent seven years erasing me, convinced that if they treated me like a servant long enough, I would eventually believe I was one.
Damien’s eyes suddenly snapped to mine.
The world seemed to stop. The hazel of my eyes met the frozen dark of his. For a heartbeat, I felt a jolt of electricity so violent I almost dropped the tray. He didn't look through me. He really looked at me… a gaze that stripped away the black uniform, the apron, and the years of dirt.
He began to walk, not toward Vivienne… toward me.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea. I could see my father’s face turning ashen in the corner of my vision, while Margaret’s hand flew to her throat.
Damien stopped inches away from me. He was so tall I had to tilt my head back to see him. He smelled of Tom Ford Oud Wood.
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Unwanted Bride Twenty-Five
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Unwanted Bride Twenty Four
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: The Mirror’s LieThe words hit me harder than the blast at the Chen Tower. To hear my own father—the man who was supposed to be my sanctuary—dismiss me as a mercenary was a cruelty I hadn't prepared for. He looked at me with a mixture of pity and suspicion, his protective arm draped around Vivienne."I’m not a mercenary, Howard," I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to keep it steady. "Look at me. Really look at me.""Don't listen to her, Dad," Vivienne hissed, her eyes darting toward the laptop on the table. the transfer bar was at ninety percent. "She’s a master of manipulation. Silas trained her to mimic the family. He wanted a backup heir in case I didn't cooperate."Howard stepped forward, his eyes searching my face. For a fleeting second, I saw a spark of recognition—a shadow of a memory of a woman named Rose—but then his gaze hardened. "You have the eyes," he whispered. "But the woman I loved was kind. She wouldn't come into a home with a threat on
Unwanted Bride Twenty Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: The Cayman ConnectionThe photo on the screen felt like a physical blow to the stomach. The real Howard Harrington was alive. Not the mercenary with the fake wrist scar, and not the coward who had let me rot in the attic—but the man my mother had actually loved. And he was standing beside the sister who had just tried to incinerate me."She didn't save him," I whispered, my fingers trembling as I zoomed in on the grainy image. "She hijacked him."Damien leaned over my shoulder, his warmth a sharp contrast to the cold calculation in his eyes. "Vivienne didn't blow up the tower just to destroy the evidence, Celeste. She did it to create a distraction large enough to move a high-value asset out of the country. She didn't want the empire. She wanted the man who holds the keys to the Vane Estate’s offshore vaults.""But why would he be with her?" I asked, looking at Howard’s face. He looked older, gaunt, but there was a fierce protectiveness in the way he stood near V
Unwanted Bride Twenty Two
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Boardroom BloodbathThe Harrington Flagship Hotel didn’t look like a place that had survived a revolution. The gold-plated doors still spun with that rhythmic, expensive hush, and the marble floors were so polished they mirrored the anxiety on the faces of the staff. But the air was different. The "Executioner’s Wife" was dead, and the "Unwanted Daughter" had vanished.I stepped into the lobby at 11:55 AM.I wasn't wearing silk. I was wearing a structured, charcoal-gray power suit that fit like a second skin, with a white silk shirt buttoned to the throat. My hair wasn't in a maid's bun or a bride's waves; it was pulled back into a sleek, lethal ponytail. Beside me, Damien walked in a black tailored suit, his presence acting as the silent muscle to my growing storm."They're in Boardroom A," Marcus, the doorman, whispered as I passed. He didn't just open the door; he bowed."Thank you, Marcus," I said, not stopping. "Make sure the coffee they’re drinking is the
Unwanted Bride Twenty one
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Unwanted Bride Twenty
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