Accidentally Becoming Backup Bride

The blindfold came off. I blinked. A chandelier. A fireplace. A mansion i had never seen. And a man i had known my whole life — standing with his back to me, a half-empty bottle on the table beside him. Caleb. "Please." My voice cracked. "I don't know what's happening. I think there's been a mistake—" He turned slowly. The grief on his face curdled into something else entirely. "You put her in that chair," he said. Low. Shaking. "You did that." "I didn't—" He crossed the room in four strides. His hand closed in my hair and drove me to my knees before i could breathe. "You're not going home," Caleb Wren said quietly. "Your sister's wedding is in four days. You look exactly like her." His eyes moved over me, cold and final. "You're going to take her place. Consider it what you owe."

Her sister left just a couple of hours before her wedding, to avoid the chaos that might ensue, she had to brace herself to be the substitute bride instead; little did she know, her life would be even more chaotic after the wedding as truths and lies were slowly being uncovered.

She was never supposed to be his wife. She was supposed to be invisible. But when the real bride vanishes the night before the wedding, the billionaire's eyes land on her, the maid of honor, and he says four words that change everything: "You'll do. Sign here."

Before anything else could happen, I stood up from squatting in front of him and walked toward my work table. My hands were shaking, but I tried not to show it. "Now you have time to listen to my proposal," I said firmly, trying to sound confident even though my heart was racing. I picked up the document I had placed there earlier—a simple sheet of paper, but one that could change everything. I held it up for him to see. Yes, kidnapping him had been desperate. But what I was about to offer? Even more so. "You just have to sign this marriage contract," I told him. "If we get married, I can claim my inheritance, solve my problem, and then we’ll let you go." He raised an eyebrow, amused. “And what’s in it for me? I don’t gain anything here. Why should I let you manipulate my life like that?” I clenched my fists. "You’re my hostage! Your freedom depends on me. You have no choice but to do what I say!" I snapped, voice rising with frustration. As soon as I said it, regret washed over me. I sounded like a child throwing a tantrum, and I saw it in his eyes—disappointment. Disgust. “I already have a fiancée, Kourtney. We’re getting married soon. I can’t marry you,” he said with finality. Of course I knew. I knew everything about him. I kept tabs on his life not because I wanted to, but because I had to. “I love her,” he continued. “And if I ever get married, it’s going to be with the woman I love. That’s Kim.” I bit my lower lip to stop the trembling. I was humiliated… but worse, I was heartbroken.

"Are you sure you want to change the bride's name to Jasmine Shaw, Quinn?" Quinn Sullivan's voice was resolute. "Yes, I'm sure. Do as I say." She sat in silence for a long time after hanging up. She recalled what she saw after her engagement party. Her fiancé had his arms wrapped around another woman in a swaying car. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, looking like he couldn't bear to leave. Quinn didn't understand. She and Nicholas York had gone through so much to get to marriage. How could he cheat on her? Well, it didn't matter. She was willing to give him her blessings since he was in love with another woman. He could marry someone else, then. She would give him the wedding of his dreams.

A video of my boyfriend proposing to his secretary makes it to the trending topics. Everyone squeals over how romantic and touching it is. His secretary even posts on social media, "I've waited so long for you to appear, and I'm glad I didn't give up. I'll leave my life in your hands, Mr. Emerson." One of the comments goes, "God, this is so sweet. A CEO and his secretary—I ship them!" I don't weep or cause a fuss. Instead, I close the webpage and ask my boyfriend for an explanation. That's when I hear him talking to his friends. "I didn't have a choice. She would've been forced to marry someone she doesn't love if I didn't help her." "What about Vicky? She's your actual girlfriend. Aren't you afraid of her getting mad?" "So what if she is? She's been with me for seven years—she can't live without me." Later, I have my wedding on the same day as his. Our cars drive past each other, and I exchange bouquets with his secretary. When he sees me, he breaks down.