All Chapters of His Brother's Bride : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

(Selena's POV)People envy the kind of life I have. The life that looks perfect in photographs and headlines. Heiress to the Valenci fortune, daughter of one of the most powerful business moguls in the country. Groomed from birth to wear luxury like a second skin, speak three languages fluently, and smile even when I want to scream. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that gold bars still make a prison.My satin robe slides off my shoulders as I sit on the edge of the four-poster bed in my suite—a room too beautiful to feel so suffocating. Everything in this house sparkles. Crystal chandeliers, hand-carved furniture, imported rugs. I live in a palace, but I haven’t felt at home in years.My wedding is in ten days. Ten days.I press my fingertips to my temples and try to breathe past the growing pressure in my chest. My engagement ring glints mockingly under the soft light—an enormous diamond picked not for love, but for legacy. Damien Delacroix, my soon-to-be husband is handsome, brill

(Selena's POV)My entire body jolted, heart hammering against my ribs like a warning bell.I stood slowly, setting the mug down with trembling fingers.There shouldn’t be anyone here. No one except my driver knew I was here and he left hours ago.I slowly walked out of the sitting room into the hallway and saw a man in the middle of the hallway.Tall with broad shoulders. He was wearing a black coat, wet from the rain. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and his hands were tucked into his pockets like he had all the time in the world. He looked up and I could feel his eyes on me—sharp and calculating, but not unkind.He lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”“Who are you?”“Luca.” His voice was deep, rough like gravel—smooth only around the edges.“I was looking for shelter and saw this place. The storm out there is crazy. I'm sorry, I didn't know someone lives here.”My breath caught. “It’s fine. I don’t live here. I just needed a place to clear my head.”We stood in silence

(Selena's POV)I never thought the sound of gravel crunching beneath my feet could feel so final, like each step toward my father’s estate was one more nail in the coffin of the life I had dared to dream about.The mansion loomed before me, just as cold and grand as I remembered, its towering gates opening with the mechanical precision of something that no longer needed a soul to function. Unlike me—soul bruised, freedom clipped—I had to force my body forward. My heart felt like it had been torn into shreds and stitched back together with thorns.I told myself I was doing the right thing.But was I?Aaron's voice echoed in my head, trembling over the phone, begging me not to let him be discovered. He had a family, children. A life he built under my father’s rule. A rule I had stupidly challenged without thinking about the consequences. And now, because of my actions, his life dangled on the edge of a blade.The front doors opened before I even reached them. My mother stood on the step

(Selena's POV)The hotel suite was beautiful. That was the first thing I noticed when the door clicked shut behind me. Creamy white walls kissed with golden accents. A king-sized bed with plush linen and carefully scattered rose petals. Champagne chilled in a silver bucket, glasses glinting in the soft lighting. Every surface gleamed like it had been touched by perfection itself.It looked like something out of a fairytale, too bad it felt like a prison.I stood there, frozen near the door, still clutching the edge of my dress like it could somehow anchor me. The silence was loud and deafening. Damien said nothing as he crossed the room and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it carelessly on the arm of a chair. His movements were deliberate, and controlled, like everything else about him.He didn’t even look at me.I didn’t know what to expect. No—scratch that. I did know.I knew not to expect affection or comfort. But some part of me still stupidly hoped that something—anything—huma

(Selena's POV)The fabric of my gown scratched against my skin like a reminder that I don’t belong here. I stood beside Damien, his hand resting lightly on my lower back, the picture-perfect husband in a perfectly choreographed charade. We looked every bit like the newlywed couple: regal, composed, elegant. Smiling for cameras and posing for society. But every flash was a lie and every smile was a mask.The gala was in full swing, a lavish affair hosted at the Montague Hotel ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light on sequined gowns and crisp tuxedos. Laughter echoed against marble walls. Waiters in white gloves moved like shadows, topping off glasses with vintage champagne.I wanted to just disappear.“Smile,” Damien whispered under his breath, barely turning his head. “Pretend if you have to.”Pretend.That was all I’ve been doing since the vows were said. Pretending to be a wife, pretending to feel anything but numb, pretending not to see the cracks in the walls of my own li