After My Fiancé Chose My Best Friend

"Explain this," I demanded. I hurled my phone onto the marble coffee table. It slid and hit the crystal vase with a sharp clink.

Ethan Cole flinched. My fiancé of three years stared down at the glowing screen. The anonymous video looped endlessly—Ethan pinning a woman against a hotel room door, kissing her with a frantic hunger he never showed me.

"Lillian, let me explain," Ethan stammered. He reached out, his fingers trembling.

I slapped his hand away. "Don't."

Vivian Moore stepped out from the hallway shadows. My childhood best friend. The woman I had chosen as my maid of honor for tomorrow's wedding. She wore one of Ethan's oversized dress shirts, the hem barely skimming her thighs.

"It's not what it looks like," Vivian said.

"Really?" I crossed my arms, digging my nails into my own skin to stop the shaking. "Because it looks like you're screwing the man I'm supposed to marry in twelve hours."

"We didn't plan this," Ethan mumbled, staring at the floor.

"Look at me when you speak!" I shouted.

His head snapped up. Guilt painted his pale features, but there was no apology in his eyes. Only panic.

"How long?" I asked.

Vivian sighed, resting a hand on her lower abdomen. "Six months."

Six months. Half a year of lies. I had given up an Oxford scholarship to stay in the city, working eighty-hour weeks at the Bennett family business just to secure our future. All while they were laughing behind my back.

"I'm pregnant, Lillian," Vivian added. Her tone held no remorse. It sounded like a victory lap.

The air vanished from my lungs. I stumbled back, bumping into the heavy oak armchair.

"Pregnant," I repeated, the word tasting like ash.

"Yes. And she's keeping it," my father's voice boomed from the doorway.

Robert Bennett strode into the room, followed closely by my mother, Eleanor. They didn't look shocked. They didn't rush to comfort me. My mother simply adjusted her pearl necklace, her face an unreadable mask.

"You knew?" I asked, staring at the two people who raised me.

"We found out yesterday," my father said, taking a seat on the leather sofa. He crossed his legs. "Sit down, Lillian. Stop making a scene."

"A scene? My life is falling apart!"

"Keep your voice down," my mother hissed, glancing toward the drawn curtains. "The neighbors don't need to hear our private matters."

"Private matters?" I laughed. The sound scraped against my throat. "My fiancé impregnated my best friend on the eve of our wedding. How exactly do you plan to keep that private?"

"By changing the bride," my father stated flatly.

Silence stretched across the room. I looked from my father, to Ethan, and finally to Vivian. She was smiling. A tiny, triumphant smirk.

"You're letting her marry him?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper.

"The Bennett and Cole families must merge," my father explained, as if reading from a corporate spreadsheet. "The contracts are signed. The press is waiting. Since Vivian is carrying the Cole heir, she will take your place at the altar."

"She's a Moore," I argued, my chest tightening. "She isn't a Bennett."

"We've already drawn up the adoption papers," my mother interjected. "We are legally adopting Vivian tonight. Tomorrow, she walks down the aisle as a Bennett."

I stared at them, utterly horrified. "You're replacing me."

"We are saving the family," my father corrected. "And you have a role to play as well."

"I am not doing anything for you," I spat.

"Vivian was originally betrothed to Alexander Sterling," my father continued, ignoring my defiance. "The Sterling Group expects a bride by the end of the week. Since Vivian is marrying Ethan, you will marry Alexander."

"Alexander Sterling?" I balked. The ruthless, notoriously cold heir of the Sterling empire? "You want to trade me off like a used car to cover up their affair?"

"It is a fair exchange," my mother said. She walked over to the wet bar and poured a glass of water. "Alexander wants Vivian. You two look enough alike. Once the veil is down, he won't know the difference until the vows are sealed."

"Are you insane?" I yelled, stepping toward her. "I am not marrying a stranger. I am packing my bags, and I am leaving."

"Lillian, please," Ethan stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "Just do this. It solves everything."

"Shut up!" I screamed, pushing him backward. He tripped over the rug and crashed into the wall. "You do not get to speak to me! None of you do!"

I spun on my heel, marching toward the grand staircase.

"Lillian, stop right there," my father barked.

I ignored him, taking the steps two at a time.

"Drink some water, darling," my mother called out, rushing up the steps to block my path. She thrust the crystal glass into my hand. "You're hysterical. You need to calm