The Wrong Bride

Imagine loving someone in secret for a decade, watching them chase the one person who could never truly accept them, believing their wedding would finally free them and you, only to see him drop to his knees in front of everyone, begging her to stay and calling you, his best friend and secret mate, “just friend”. The pain rips through you, you drown it in alcohol, follow a scent that feels like home, and wake up beside a man who looks exactly like him and wants nothing more than to ruin you, strip every ounce of innocence from your bones, and worship the grounds of your sanctuary day and night.

Alliyah Agustin thought her life was finally falling into place. She was about to marry her long-time boyfriend, Chester — the man she’d built her dreams around, the man everyone envied her for. The venue gleamed with gold, the air smelled of white roses, and her so-called best friend, Kassandrah, stood by her side as maid of honor. Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t. When the ceremony began, Chester was nowhere to be found. In his place stood a stranger — dark suit, darker eyes, a smirk that didn’t belong anywhere near an altar. The crowd murmured, the priest hesitated, and before she could even process what was happening, the papers were signed. She had just married Alexander Nicholas Astley, one of the most powerful billionaires in the country — and the most feared man in the underground world. What Alliyah didn’t know was that her “perfect” fiancé and “trusted” friend had sold her — a deal made to clear a debt, sealed with her hand in marriage. And in the dangerous world she was dragged into, her survival would depend on one impossible question: Was Alexander her captor… or her savior?

Katherine had always been in love with one guy; Ken Hart. He was her childhood sweetheart, and she had always secretly crushed on him without taking action. She thought it was a mindless crush, until her father announced her sudden marriage to Ken Hart. That moment, Kate knew dreams do come true. Ken was all she ever dreamt of. Unexpectedly, her marriage was the opposite of what she thought it would be. Ken wanted nothing to do with her; to him, she was just a trophy wife he used whenever he needed her. Most importantly, he needed her to seal a billion-dollar deal. He had married her for selfish reason. Kate’s parent had only agreed because it was the only way to save their company that had fallen into financial crisis, without informing Kate Kate wouldn’t sit to be used whenever her husband want, she would do all she could to make sure he needed her. Infusing herself into his life was going to be difficult, but when she wanted something, she would do all she could to get what she wanted.

There are two dogs who will forever revolve around Leonardo Zeller. The first one is his pet dog. The second one is me, his devoted lapdog. But I've successfully risen to the ranks as his fiancee. On the day before our wedding, Leonardo gets into an accident from car racing for the sake of his first love, Renee White. I rush over to the hospital immediately, but I don't see the scar that's supposed to adorn his chest. My complexion goes insanely pale out of panic. "Where did the scar from his heart surgery go?" "Hey! Don't you dare jinx my son! Since when did he go through such a cursed surgery?" Suddenly, I realize that I've gotten the wrong person this whole time for three years. On the day Leonardo gets discharged, he tells me that he regrets proposing to me and that he wants to call off the wedding just to be with Renee. Everyone wants to see me break down and humiliate myself by showing my hysterical side. But I merely reply, "Okay." What they don't know is that I've never loved Leonardo before. After all, the man I love is already dead a few years ago.

The news spread quickly—my mate, David Jonson, had been promoted to Tactical Analyst and was heading to Texline to take on a new assignment. He proudly shared the news with every member of the pack—everyone except me, his mate. I was the only one he hid the truth from. Why? Because in his eyes, I wasn't a smart mate. My wolf had been badly damaged in the past, so I had a poor memory and I tended to be clingy constantly, something he looked down on with disdain. "I'm really grateful to my best friend, Commander Johnson, who governs in Texas, for recommending me so I could get this promotion." I overheard him say to someone. "As for Pearl? That clingy she-wolf who follows me everywhere—there's no need to tell her. She'll come to Texline looking for me anyway." Hearing his words, I was excited—finally, a chance to prove I had a sharp memory after all. I stormed to my room and began packing my clothes. David had always made decisions without me, often leaving me behind. But this time, I would leave first. I would get to Texline before him, and when he arrived to find me already there, he'd be shocked at how clever I could be. But the next day, when I arrived at the airport, my confidence crumbled. I stood at the counter, suddenly blank. I couldn't remember where I was supposed to go—Texline, Texas, or Tennessee? My damaged memory failed me again. The last flight to Texas was about to depart, and the impatient airport staff didn't want to wait for me. She rolled her eyes and was about to close the gate. Worried I might miss the flight, I gave her a pleading smile and said, "Texas, Miss. I'm going to Texas."

I was always flying for work, so I left the whole renovation thing to my husband, Daxton Pruitt. This time, my flight got scrapped last minute, so I swung by the house to check in. The second I stepped inside, some woman named Mona Scambley, who claimed she was the designer, chucked a stack of invoices at me. Couples' lingerie display case: $15,000. High-end waterbed: $40,000. One glance at that pile of overpriced tacky nonsense made me nauseous. My brows pulled tight. "Ms. Scambley, this is a private house, not some couples' motel. What is all this?" Her face flipped in a heartbeat. She jabbed a finger at me. "The owner gave those orders. You're just the site supervisor. Disobey me again, and I'll have Mr. Pruitt fire you!" Then she spun around and called Daxton right there. I laughed, cold and low, about to ask what kind of clown show designer he'd hired—until I heard his voice. Gentle. Doting. "This is Mona and my love nest. We'll do whatever we want. Don't like it? Get out." I smiled, snatched the list from Mona, and nodded. "Sure." One week later, that overpriced waterbed showed up—Daxton, very much not smiling.

It was just another morning commute—until he happened. Across the train aisle sat a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a high-end magazine and straight into a power struggle. His voice sliced through the air, sharp and commanding, as he chewed someone out over the phone like he ran the damn universe. Arrogant. Entitled. Dressed like a Wall Street god. Correction: he looked like a god. That’s where the charm ended—or so I thought. When the train screeched to a stop, he stood up in a hurry, stormed off… and left his phone behind. Did I pick it up? Yep. Did I snoop? Absolutely. Photos, contacts, a few mysterious texts—I couldn’t help myself. Did I keep it longer than I should’ve, building stories in my head about the man behind the voice? Yeah… I did that too. When I finally gathered enough nerve to return it, I marched into the glass-and-steel fortress he called an office. He wouldn’t even come out to meet me. So I dropped his phone on the desk outside his office door. And maybe—I left a photo on it first. Not exactly the professional kind. What I didn’t expect? A message. From him. What followed were late-night texts that burned hotter than anything I’d ever known. Words became whispers. Whispers turned into fantasies. I was falling—for someone I hadn’t even really met. He and I? Total opposites. Fire and ice. Chaos and control. But when we finally came face to face, it wasn’t just sparks. It was an inferno. What happened next? Let’s just say… falling for him was the easy part. Surviving what came after? That’s where the real story began.

Two men. One was her best friend. The other was her infuriating boss. One is the man she has loved for twelve years. The other is the man she despised with everything in her. Yet on her wedding day, they both stood there, one as the groom, the other as the man who would never let her go. “I tried to bury you. I told myself it was nothing. But watching you love him? That was the first time I understood what hatred really feels like.” One said, his voice filled with resentment sharp enough to cut steel. “I don’t need you to choose me,” the other whispered. “I just need you to know that no matter whose name you take… You will always belong to me.” Forbidden. Addictive. A love so wrong it tastes like sin. A hatred so raw it feels like desire. A twelve-year devotion. A buried obsession. Two brothers. One bride. Some loves are safe. Some loves are reckless. And some are powerful enough to tear a family apart.

My mate-to-be, Ethan, said he had some urgent work come up right before our planned full moon trip. He bailed. I was missing him like crazy, so I immediately drove for over ten hours to his city. I hadn’t told Ethan I was coming. There I was, flowers in hand, standing outside his mansion, ready to give my destined mate a sweet surprise. But then I caught the mixed scent of Ethan and another female werewolf. The scent was sickeningly familiar. Amber Collins. Ethan’s ex-mate. I fought back the burn in my nose, my eyes already red, and pushed the door open. And what did I see? Them, sharing a glass of red wine, cuddled up, practically on top of each other. When Ethan finally noticed me, he jerked his arm away from Amber, walked stiffly over, his voice laced with panic. "Scarlett, why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

I was the top bounty thief in the organization. The best they had. After turning in my final score, I announced on the spot that I was done for good. Then, I stood in my studio, blending paint. A single photograph was pinned to the wall before me. Black Viper filled the doorway, the light behind him casting his face in shadow. "What's it like," he asked quietly, "pretending to be an artist?" He stepped further inside. "Does paint smell better than blood?" I placed the palette knife down and wiped my hands slowly. "I'm done. I walked away." "Old Fox didn't approve of it." "That's not my concern." Black Viper crossed the room and tapped the old photograph on the wall. "Are you certain?" I did not want to look. I told myself not to. However, my gaze shifted anyway. A young boy stared back from the photo. "The blind kid?" I had spent ten years searching for him. "Where is he?" I moved toward the wall, reaching to rip the picture down. "One last job," Black Viper said, pressing his palm against the photo. My hand stopped in midair. "What's the target?" "The final lot at next month's auction that the Gilbert Group will be holding. "It's called Mermaid's Tear."