Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Substitute Bride's Revenge : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

ARIA“These can’t be right.”I’m hunched over the quarterly reports, eyes burning. The numbers blur, but every column tells the same story—a downward spiral that started three years ago, right around the time Dad married Victoria Pierce.I tuck a curl behind my ear, not noticing the ink I smear on my cheek. I run the numbers again, hoping they’ll magically change this time.It’s late. The office emptied out hours ago. I’m twenty-four and somehow always the first one in and the last one out, trying to keep Dad’s legacy from collapsing under all this debt.All those years grinding away at State for my business degree—on scholarship, unlike Vivian’s fancy private school—didn’t cover any of this. Nobody teaches you how to juggle bills, which creditors to charm, or when to just flat-out beg for more time.My phone buzzes on the desk. I*******m. I open it without thinking.Vivian’s face fills my screen, flawless as ever, holding up a champagne glass at the Met Gala. The caption: “Daddy’s pri

ARIAMorning light filters through the blinds, casting prison-bar shadows across Dad’s sleeping form. My neck aches from a night in this miserable chair, mascara smudged under my eyes, my brain foggy from snatches of sleep broken by nurses and the steady, relentless beep of the monitors.The doctor called it a “cardiac event”—not quite a heart attack, but close enough. “His heart is weakening,” Dr. Winters whispered outside the room, voice low and careful, as if the wrong word might shatter me. “The stress, his age, his previous attack… He needs calm and stability. Another episode like this could be fatal.”I rub my eyes, only smearing the mascara further. My phone screen glows with seventeen missed calls from the office. Monday morning, and for the first time in my life, I’m not there to open the doors.The click of expensive heels carries down the hall before Victoria appears in the doorway, flawless in a dove-gray suit, every strand of hair in place despite the hour. She glides in w

ARIAXavier Harrington’s office is basically a shrine to power. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the city he’s busy conquering, and every piece of furniture is dark leather and steel. There’s not a single photo or personal touch, nothing to show that a real person works here. It’s all so perfectly put together, it feels like a machine.He’s standing with his back to us, talking quietly into his phone, eyes on the city like he owns the whole thing.He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and his suit fits like it was made just for him—expensive, sharp, and as ruthless as he is.When he finally turns around, my breath catches. It’s not because he’s good-looking, though he definitely is, in a sharp, intimidating way. It’s those eyes. They’re ice blue and so cold that when he looks at me, I feel like he’s sizing me up for a coffin.His eyes barely pause on me before shifting to Victoria. He ends his call with a quick, “Meeting later. Pierce priority.” No goodbye, just a click as he puts the pho

ARIAVictoria’s phone pings the second we roll into the parking garage. She glances at her screen, and her grin gets even bigger, like she’s been waiting for this all morning.“Great news,” she says smug and bright. “Xavier’s grandmother wants us at the Harrington Estate. She wants to meet her new granddaughter-in-law right away. She’s calling as we speak.” Victoria’s already typing out a reply, her fingers moving fast.I stare at her, horrified. “I have nothing to wear. I need to check on Dad. I promised him—”“Details,” Victoria waves me off, not even looking up from her phone. “The boutique will send over whatever you need. Your dad’s stable. This meeting with Eleanor Harrington is huge. She’s the real power in that family, not Xavier. If she likes you, everything gets easier. If she doesn’t, well, let’s not even think about that.”We reach the car and Victoria’s face shifts from smug to serious in a heartbeat. She leans in, lowering her voice. “One more thing, Aria. Eleanor’s old-f

ARIAThe Harrington Estate becomes my prison over the following two weeks.I'm moved into a guest suite in the east wing the day after signing the contract.“To begin your integration into the Harrington lifestyle," Michael had explained.My suite is packed up by strangers, my possessions sorted through and mostly discarded, deemed unsuitable for my new position.Each morning begins with a weigh-in, conducted by Claudia Reinhart, Xavier's personal nutritionist, who records each number with precision and disapproval.Claudia is a severe woman in her fifties, with the body of a marathon runner and the demeanor of a drill sergeant. Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun, her black clothing always impeccable and her clipboard a weapon she wields with merciless efficiency."Down half a pound," Claudia notes on the seventh day. "At this rate, you'll meet Mr. Harrington's requirements by next year."She circles me like a shark, pinching at my waist with cold fingers. "You're still holding sig