Novel & Cerita Oliver's Substitute Bride

Olivia's POV “I, Aiden Virek, take the title of Mate to Luna Olivia Hartwyn, joining Thorne Ridge Pack. I pledge my loyalty, power, protection and lifeblood.” Aiden lowers to a knee and presses his forehead to my stomach, exposing the nape of his neck in the traditional show of submission to a Mate.

What the fuck was going on? “You! You thought you've won, haven't you? You couldn't watch me get married to the love of my life, you just had to show up to our wedding.” Olive let go of my hand and walked in front of me, eye to eye with the bride—Jane—or whatever the fuck her name was. Here I was, standing behind Olive, with lackluster Dumbo Elliot behind his crazy-ass wifey, the press and the damn church surrounding us. “Olive, you don't have to,” I said, trying to get her to not say anything. But I knew I couldn't do anything the minute she stepped in front of me.

What about Olivia? ***

As if Diana's presence here was no big deal. "What do you mean?" Olive chuckled. "Can't you understand what I'm saying, Mrs. Diana? You must be much older than me, right?" Diana gritted her jaw. "I just want to talk to Thomas. I have nothing to do with you!" "Obviously there is!" Olive leaned back slightly. "If you forget who I am, it doesn't matter if we get reacquainted." Olive grinned. "I'm Olivia Charlotte. The future wife of Thomas Adam." She deliberately emphasized the word 'future wife' in her words just now.

Her lips curled up, her thoughts tangling together. “Sofia doesn't need a father. She has me and I will do whatever it takes to give her the best life I can.” ************* It was a tough night getting herself through sleeping without Nate being okay. But here she was standing at the aisle, Clara's hands wrapped around her with a big smile. They walked down the aisle, a smile plastered on her face as they walked down the aisle together. Clara radiated confidence, her ivory gown shimmering under the soft glow of the chandeliers. She looked every bit the part of a blushing bride, but Olivia’s mind was far away from the grand spectacle unfolding before her.

Nobody could fucking touch her. "This is a crucial time and I should be taking my position and see to it no one is around the Laxa Castle," Oliver said, a bit relieved and left. I looked at both the soldiers departing and stood up. Looking at the backside of the Laxa Castle, I tried to find another way to get into the castle. My wife would be dolled up as my brother's bride at the altar and they would be taking wedding vows but my bastard brother wouldn't be able to kiss her or mark her. HELL NO!

"I want the entire continent under the Sterling-Ashford banking grid by midnight, Julian. I want these kings to realize that even their crowns are leased from your estate." ‎I stood up from the chair, slipping out of Victor's grip only to step around the desk and press my body flush against Kael’s broad chest. My hands locked onto the star-shaped scar on Kael's palm, while Victor stepped up right behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist to anchor us all together. ‎ ‎The Blood Oath in our veins answered the proximity, a soft, beautiful wave of violet-gold fire rippling across our skin. ‎ ‎"Tomorrow night," I whispered, looking from Kael’s fierce amber gaze to Victor’s calculating gray eye

Beatrice put the flower on her sister's tombstone and lit the candle. After that, she stood again and looked at the Name engraved on the stone. Beatrice smiled and tilted her head to Nate, who was looking at the tombstone. Beatrice knows that he is shocked because of what he sees now. "Nate, this is my sister, Margarett." Beatrice introduces Nate, "Margarett, this is Nate, my husband." She added, so Nate looked at her with a smile. Beatrice took a deep breath and looked at the sky.

“I already said my goodbyes to that place. I don’t see the point in opening doors I’ve already closed.” Her mother gave her a look. Not sharp. Not disapproving. Just knowing. “What fight did you get into with your sister this time?.” “No fights, I got married. That's all.” The drive wasn’t long. The streets remained as pristine as ever, the gates already open by the time Olive pulled in. Someone had been watching. The staff appeared immediately, as if waiting for their cue. Two maids. The housekeeper. Even the gardener stood awkwardly with his hat in his hands, like this was some homecoming ceremony.

and then he settled in front of me, his eyes lingering over me, his lips raising in a smirk, “Artists will be here to prepare you. Our wedding is by noon.” “What? No. Please no. Please,” I forced myself to my knees, “please, don't make me marry you. I don't want to.” “Only what the Don wants matters,” the lady coolly chimed in. “You should know the name of your husband to be, Nikolai De Luca,” he said, already turning away, “you have the luxury of my wonderful guards until the ceremony,” and all I heard was the clicking of his shoes as he walked away. The lady followed, her steps gliding across the tiles and just as she passed, she paused and whispered, “wonderful hair.”