All Chapters of The Substitute Bride's Revenge : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ARIAThe morning of my wedding day dawns with perfect, manufactured precision: clear skies, seventy-two degrees, not a cloud in sight.The Harrington Estate has been transformed overnight into a fantasy landscape of white roses and crystal, five million dollars manifested in cascading floral arrangements, imported marble dance floors, and custom pavilions erected solely for this one-day spectacle.I stand motionless as four stylists work on me simultaneously; one on hair, one on makeup, one adjusting the complicated undergarments that squeeze my flesh into submission, and one making final adjustments to the Marchesa gown that has been altered seven times in the past week."Stop breathing so deeply!" snaps Genevieve, yanking at the corset laces with unnecessary force. "You're expanding the ribcage and ruining the line."I try to comply by reducing my breathing to shallow sips of air that leave me light-headed.The corset is a marvel of engineering, steel boning and industrial-strength

ARIAThe Harrington penthouse occupies the top three floors of a sleek glass tower in Manhattan, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the city that never sleeps.At one in the morning, those windows reflect my solitary figure as I stand in the master suite, still wearing my wedding gown, waiting for a husband who isn't here.Xavier has disappeared as soon as we'd arrived, muttering something about "checking messages" before vanishing into what I presume is his office.That has been two hours ago. The suite is silent except for the distant hum of the city below and the occasional ping of my phone as congratulatory messages arrive from people who have no idea what my marriage actually entails.The wedding coordinator had arranged for a maid to help me out of my complicated gown, but I've sent the woman away, preferring to be alone with my thoughts.Now I struggle with the dozens of tiny buttons running down my spine. My arms ache as I twist to reach them, my fingers c

Morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the guest suite, lighting up dust particles dancing in the air. Proof that despite how perfect the Harrington penthouse looks, even here, imperfection exists if you look close enough.I stand at the window, watching the city wake up thirty stories below. My reflection's like a ghost on the glass.The woman staring back at me is a stranger. Dark circles under my eyes, my natural curls fighting back after yesterday's straightened wedding style, and my brown skin looking ashen from exhaustion.Xavier took off for Tokyo at exactly 5:30 AM, not bothering to tell me himself only to have Michael knock on my door at 7:00 AM, his face professionally blank as he hands me a thick folder."Your schedule and transportation details for the week, Mrs. Harrington," he says, using my new name like he's been saying it forever. "The car will arrive at 9:00 AM to take you to the estate. Your belongings have already been moved to your assigned q

ARIAXavier, who has been studying the contents of his glass with apparent fascination looks up at this. "Aria's academic credentials were thoroughly checked before the arrangement was finalized, Grandma. She meets all the specified requirements."The delivered assessment as if I'm not standing right here, is more painful than Sophia's open hostility. To Xavier, I'm a checklist of requirements, nothing more."Dinner is ready, Mrs. Harrington," announces a staff member from the doorway, providing a momentary reprieve from the tension.The dining room continues the theme of intimidating opulence. A massive table that could seat twenty but is set for only five, crystal chandeliers casting cold light over Limoges china and sterling silver place settings, fresh flowers arranged in towering displays that ensure conversation requires leaning around them.Eleanor takes her place at the head of the table, with Harold and Xavier flanking her. Sophia moves to sit beside her brother, leaving me th

The Harrington family compound in Aspen sprawls across thirty acres of prime mountainside real estate, a collection of rustic-luxe buildings that manage to appear both authentically alpine and obscenely expensive.The main house was a 15,000-square-foot structure of reclaimed timber and glass. It commands views of the surrounding peaks that feature prominently in architectural magazines and the I*******m accounts of the various Harrington family members who use the property as backdrop for their curated public personas.I've been dreading the annual family retreat since Michael added it to my schedule three weeks ago. Two weeks at the Aspen compound with the entire extended Harrington clan including Eleanor, Harold , Sophia, and a host of cousins, aunts, and uncles I've yet to meet seems like an exercise in prolonged humiliation."It's tradition," Xavier explained curtly when I asked if my presence was truly necessary. "All Harrington spouses attend. Your absence would be noticed."Tra