My Sister Stole My Fiancé, So I Married His Brother

"You're Elena." Damian's voice dropped to a lethal whisper.

I swallowed hard. "Damian, I—"

"Turn around," he ordered. His fingers dug into my waist, a brutal warning. "Smile. Or I will bury your father's company before the reception ends."

"They drugged me," I tried again.

"Quiet."

The priest cleared his throat, looking between us. "I pronounce you husband and wife."

I pasted a grin on my face as the photographer's flash blinded us. He didn't kiss me. He merely pressed his cold cheek against mine. The cameras clicked furiously.

"A brilliant scam," he murmured into my ear. "The Carters and the Blakes, teaming up to make a fool out of me."

"I had no part in this."

He pulled back. His dark eyes offered no mercy. "We will finish this charade. Then we talk."

He grabbed my hand. His grip felt like a steel vise. We marched back down the aisle. My father nodded approvingly from the front row. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to rip the veil off and announce the fraud to every reporter in the room. But Damian's grip kept me anchored.

***

The master suite felt like a mausoleum. Gray walls, black furniture, zero warmth.

Damian stripped off his suit jacket and tossed it onto a velvet chair.

"Explain," he demanded, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter.

"My sister got pregnant with my fiancé," I said. I crossed my arms to stop my hands from shaking. "My father drugged me, shoved me in a car, and forced me to take her place."

Damian took a sip of his drink. He let out a harsh laugh. "A tragic tale. And you expect me to believe you didn't want the billionaire upgrade?"

"I wanted my own life! I was supposed to get married to Adrian today."

"You got a better deal." He stepped into my space, towering over me. The scent of expensive cologne and scotch hit my nose. "Listen closely. This marriage is a transaction. Nothing more. I will never love you. I will never touch you."

"Good. I don't want you to."

His jaw tightened. "Play the part of Mrs. Blake in public. Stay out of my way in private. Do that, and you get to keep the title and the privileges."

"I don't want your money, Damian. I don't want your privileges."

"You Carter women are all the same," he sneered. He turned his back on me. "Liars and leeches. Pick a guest room. I don't share a bed."

"Gladly," I shot back. I grabbed my heels from the floor and marched down the hallway.

***

Three days passed. We existed as strangers under the same massive roof. I woke up at six every morning, applied for jobs, and avoided the west wing where Damian worked.

I sat at the kitchen island, circling job listings on my laptop.

Footsteps echoed on the marble floor. Mr. Graves, the estate manager, slid a sleek black credit card across the counter.

"Mr. Blake requested you use this for your personal needs, Mrs. Blake."

I pushed the card back. "Tell Mr. Blake I don't need his money."

"It is standard protocol for his wife to have an allowance."

"I am not a standard wife," I interrupted. "I have my own resume. I will earn my own paycheck."

"Ma'am, Mr. Blake insists."

"And I refuse." I kept my eyes on the screen. "I will pay for my own gas. I will buy my own groceries."

Mr. Graves frowned but took the card away. I closed my laptop. I needed a job before my father froze my remaining checking account. I refused to be trapped again.

***

The invitation to the Global Trade Gala wasn't optional. Damian texted me the address and told me to show up. He didn't offer a ride.

I arrived alone, wearing a simple black evening gown I bought three years ago.

Damian stood across the ballroom, surrounded by tech investors. He wore a sharp navy suit. He didn't even glance my way when I entered.

I grabbed a glass of sparkling water and retreated to a quiet corner near the terrace doors. I planned to stay for exactly one hour, take a photo for the press, and leave.

"Elena."

The shrill voice scraped against my eardrums.

Sophia strolled toward me, clinging to Adrian's arm. She wore a glittering diamond necklace. The one Adrian bought with my commission bonus. Her baby bump wasn't showing yet, but she rubbed her stomach anyway.

"Sophia," I stated. "Adrian."

Adrian refused to meet my gaze. He studied the floor, adjusting his tie.

Sophia smirked. She raised her champagne flute. "Look at you. Standing all by yourself. Where is your terrifying new husband?"

"Working," I replied flatly. "Something you know nothing about."

Sophia's face flushed. She stepped closer, raising her voice so the nearby guests could hear. "Don't act superior. You're just a placeholder. A fake bride nobody wanted."

Whispers erupted around us. Several women in designer gowns turned to gawk.

"Is it true?" a woman murmured nearby. "I heard Damian didn't even want her."

"Adrian dumped her for the younger sister," another whispered. "She had to settle for an arranged marriage."

Sophia soaked up the attention. "You only married Damian because Adrian threw you away. You couldn't handle being a spinster, so you begged our father to let you take my leftovers."

I looked at Adrian. "Are you going to let her lie?"

Adrian shifted his weight. "Just walk away, Elena. Don't make a scene."

"I'm not making a scene. She is."

Sophia laughed, a high, grating sound. "You're pathetic. Damian won't even stand next to you in public. He knows you're just a cheap replacement."

My chest tightened. I kept my spine rigid. I refused to cry. I refused to shrink. I had built a career in boardrooms full of ruthless men. I wouldn't let my spoiled sister break me.

"A replacement?" I asked. My voice rang out, deadly calm. "I spent four years building the Carter logistics network. I secured the London deal that paid for your engagement ring. You are wearing my dress, sleeping with my ex, and spending my money. The only cheap thing in this room is you, Sophia."

Gasps rippled through the small crowd. Sophia's mouth fell open.

Through the crowd, my eyes locked with Damian's.

He stood on the mezzanine steps, a crystal glass in his hand. He was watching me. He had been watching the whole time.

I expected him to look disgusted. I expected him to walk away and let the press tear me apart.

Instead, his dark eyes held a strange, intense focus. He didn't intervene. He just studied me, like a puzzle he couldn't solve. He saw me taking the hits. He saw me refusing to bow.

Sophia scoffed, her face turning crimson. "You're just jealous because Adrian loves me!"

She raised her glass, tilting the red wine toward my black dress.

I didn't flinch. I held my ground.

Before the liquid could spill, a large hand clamped around Sophia's wrist.