Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Substitute Bride's Revenge : Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

ARIAThe level of detail is staggering. Course descriptions that match my actual interests. Extracurricular activities that align with my personality. Even a disciplinary note for challenging a professor's outdated methodology, the kind of thing I absolutely would have done."You've thought of everything." It's not a question. It's an acknowledgment of the scope of what I'm seeing."He has." Nathan corrects me gently, and there's something in his voice that makes me look up. Respect, maybe. Or fear."Every detail has been considered, every potential question anticipated. Elizabeth Sinclair can withstand any level of scrutiny because she's real. She has a history, a background, a legitimate source of wealth that goes back decades."The weight of it settles over me like a heavy blanket on a summer day, suffocating and inescapable. Aria Taylor is gone, erased as thoroughly as if she never existed. In her place stands Elizabeth Sinclair, heiress and recluse, emerging from her self-imposed

ARIAThe next morning arrives with sharp clarity that feels like a jolt to the system. Everything seems sharper, more immediate as though the world is holding its breath.The morning brings introductions to the people who will shape my new life as Elizabeth Sinclair, and I can feel the weight of it all settling over me. It feels like putting on an expensive coat that doesn’t quite fit yet, the material stiff and unfamiliar against my skin.Harrison is the first to appear, as he always is, but something about him feels different. The easy familiarity we’ve built over the past few months is gone, replaced by a more formal, almost deferential air.“Mrs. Sinclair.” The title still sounds like it’s meant for someone else.I’ve been Aria for so long that hearing another name feels strange, like slipping into someone else’s life.He gestures for me to follow him. “I’d like to introduce you to your personal team.”We step into the library, and one by one, they file in, making me feel like I’m

ARIATwo weeks pass with agonizing slowness. I wake, exercise, study the intelligence reports, refine my strategic plans, eat meals prepared by staff who speak to me politely but reveal nothing of substance.My mysterious husband is still absent, yet evidence of his involvement surrounds me every aspect of my daily life.Handwritten notes appear on my desk every morning. A rare first edition of books I love that aren’t yet added to the collection materializes in the library with passages marked that relate directly to my situation.Fresh flowers replace the previous day's arrangements with varieties chosen to complement my mood.The household staff clearly receive regular instructions from him, sometimes implementing changes to my schedule or security arrangements without explanation.One morning I wake to find additional security cameras installed overnight. Another day, my exercise routine is modified to include self-defense training with an instructor who appears without introducti

ARIAI must have dozed off while waiting because I wake to the awareness of another presence in my darkened bedroom.The transition from sleep to consciousness is disorienting, made worse by the realization that someone entered without waking me.My first instinct is alarm. Years of living with my stepmother and stepsister taught me to be wary of unexpected presences in my private space until memory floods back and I remember who I've been expecting.The candles have burned lower during my unintended nap with their flames creating deeper shadows and more intimate lighting.The scent of vanilla and peonies seems stronger now.My robe has wrinkled slightly where I curled in the pillows, and I'm suddenly self-conscious about my appearance after such careful preparation.A tall, masculine silhouette seats motionless with his legs crossed near the windows, watching me.The room is too dark to make out his features, but his presence fills the space in a way that speaks of natural authority.

ARIAThe bed dips behind me, and I freeze.The mattress is large enough that his weight shouldn’t affect my position, but I feel every movement as he settles in. I feel every subtle shift, every shift in pressure.My breath catches when the covers rustle, and his heat, unmistakable and overwhelming, rolls toward me like a wave.It’s not just warmth; it’s him. His presence, his weight, his power and it’s so tangible that it feels like it’s pressing into my skin even without his touch.The room feels smaller now, the air heavier, suffused with the scent of him. Something darker, something uniquely his.My breath falters as I try to focus on anything else but none of it matters. He’s everywhere, his presence filling the space, wrapping around me, sinking into my skin.I keep my body rigid, willing myself not to move, not to react, yet it’s impossible to ignore the way the mattress shifts as he slides closer.The covers pull tighter as his weight settles behind me. His arm moves slow and d