Not His Bride to Ruin

"Aveline, I'm so glad you feel that way! I'm lucky to be marrying such a generous and big-hearted woman."

"It's just…" Lachlan paused.

"The wedding is tomorrow, and Sienna urgently needs money to launch her personal brand. Could you ask your father for a twenty-million-dollar seed fund? We can call it an 'investment' from me."

"Sienna's startup is having some trouble. If she can't get the money now, her dream will be ruined."

My father's gaze was as cold as a knife, his hand unconsciously reaching for the cigar cutter on the table.

But I just smiled and said:

"Going directly to Father might put him in an awkward position, don't you think? How about this: I'll have my lawyer draft a personal promissory note for you tonight. You can just 'borrow' the money from me. That'll solve her immediate problem, and you'll avoid the awkwardness of asking my family for money."

Lachlan hesitated. After all, it was a legally binding personal promissory note, making him personally liable for twenty million dollars.

Seeing his hesitation, I immediately added:

"Lachlan, it's just a formality. We're about to be husband and wife. What's mine is yours, right? I'm just thinking of your reputation. It doesn't look good in our circles to be using your fiancée's family resources before you're even married."

"You're right, Aveline. You're always so thoughtful."

Lachlan quickly signed the agreement and eagerly went to arrange the transfer.

I turned to my father.

"Father, what do you think of a marriage alliance with the Covington Group?"

My father was stunned.

"But you've always despised Rhys. You said he was crude and arrogant."

I gave a bitter smile. That was because in my last life, after my family was destroyed, Lachlan burned all my design blueprints to ashes.

It was Rhys who risked his fortune to crush the Bancroft Group, recovering the backups of my work from the wreckage. He was even willing to liquidate half of his Austin real estate portfolio just to build a museum for my unfinished designs.

It wasn't until I saw him kneeling before my memorial, crying like a helpless child, that I understood Rhys was the one who had truly loved me all along.

"Father, Rhys might be two years younger than me, but he's straightforward, not a schemer. His feelings for me… they’re real. Unlike some people, who are already calculating how to bleed our family dry before the vows are even spoken."

"Besides, you and Mr. Covington are on good terms. If I marry into their family, I know I won't be mistreated."

My father pondered for a moment, then a ruthless smile crept across his face. He turned and started making calls.

I walked out of the villa, hoping the evening breeze would clear my head.

The roses in the estate garden were in full bloom, but in my memory, this place was nothing but a desolate ruin after being auctioned off for a pittance. After my death, Lachlan burned all my belongings and threw my father's collections in the trash.

His demonic expression was seared into my mind.

"You old fool, this is what you get for standing in my way! If it weren't for you, Sienna and I would have been living happily ever after long ago!"

Tears streamed down my cheeks. I caressed the cold brick wall, letting the pain consume me.

Suddenly, I heard the idle chatter of gardeners in the nearby shade of the trees.

"Can you believe that Bancroft fellow went to Mr. Prescott tonight to demand his mistress be the maid of honor?"

"Maid of honor? I heard he wants a double wedding. The guy wants to marry both of them."

"That's outrageous! Who puts his fiancée and his mistress in the same wedding? Isn't that a slap in the face to Miss Aveline and her father?"

"I heard the Bancroft heir never wanted to marry her in the first place. They say she's the one who's desperate, throwing herself and her family's money at him now that his company is on the verge of bankruptcy. A top designer, and so shameless. Now she'll have to fight some little influencer for her man's attention every day. Bet she has to beg for every scrap he gives her."

Their words grew uglier, even imagining me licking Lachlan's leather shoes, begging him for a glance.

A wave of bitterness washed over me. So this was the pathetic creature they saw me as. But it was Lachlan who had pursued me first.

The Prescott and Bancroft families had been friends for generations, their business dealings intertwined.

From the time we were children, Lachlan had always been my playmate.

Back then, he would sit beside me, patiently explaining architectural drawings.

He would wipe the ink stains from the corner of my mouth and take me to Newport to watch the sailboat races.

When we grew up, he acted like my guardian angel, driving away every suitor who came near me.

I would pout in protest.

"Lachlan, you've scared them all away. What if I never get married?"

He would wrap his arm around my shoulders.

"You can only marry me. I won't let any other man near you."