Substitute Fiancée: Unmasking My Ugly Wife
To survive a forced one-year marriage contract with the ultra-wealthy Chavez family, Averi Marsh disguised herself as a pathetic, ugly duckling.
She caked her flawless skin in muddy yellow foundation, wore thick glasses, and played the part of a trembling, uneducated orphan.
The entire family treated her like literal garbage.
The youngest brother publicly swore he would rather cut off his own hand than marry a piece of trailer park trash.
Her nominal fiancé, Clarke, looked at her with cold disdain, allowing his glamorous companion to humiliate Averi by forcing her into a neon pink clown dress.
At a high-society party, a socialite shoved her into an infinity pool, laughing as the heavy fabric dragged her to the bottom.
They all wanted to see the poor girl broken, humiliated, and driven out of their pristine world.
What they didn't know was that beneath the hideous sweaters was a breathtaking, lethal predator.
They had no idea she was 'Spectre', the undefeated underground racing god who had just humiliated the arrogant Clarke on the track.
They didn't know she could shatter a bully's wrist in seconds or bankrupt their wealthy friends with a single text message.
But when the chlorinated pool water washed away her ugly makeup, the family's ambitious second son caught a glimpse of her true, flawless face.
The game of hide-and-seek was officially over.
The Chavez family thought they were torturing a helpless sheep, but they were about to realize they had locked themselves in a cage with a wolf.
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Chapter 4
Averi walked into the grand foyer, adjusting the strap of her heavy backpack.
Brennan Chavez was leaning against the marble pillar near the front doors. He was spinning a silver key fob around his index finger. He wore a tailored navy blazer and a perfectly practiced, gentle smile.
"Morning, Averi," Brennan said smoothly. "Grandfather's orders. We have to 'bond.' I'm your chauffeur today."
Averi didn't argue. She nodded meekly and followed him out the massive front doors.
A sleek, black Rolls Royce Phantom sat in the driveway. Brennan opened the passenger door for her. Averi climbed in, her cheap sneakers sinking into the lambswool floor mats.
As Brennan steered the massive car onto the streets of Manhattan, he glanced at her.
"So," Brennan said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "Tell me about Ohio. Must have been tough growing up out there."
Averi stared out the window. "It was okay. Lots of corn. My grandma liked to knit."
She kept her answers painfully dull, using short, ungrammatical sentences. She played the idiot perfectly. Brennan probed for twenty minutes, trying to find a crack in her story, but hit a solid brick wall of manufactured stupidity.
The Rolls Royce pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of the Manhattan Elite Academy.
It was a sea of designer uniforms, luxury cars, and generational wealth.
Averi pushed the heavy car door open. She stepped onto the sidewalk. Her oversized brown sweater and scuffed sneakers made her look like a stain on a priceless painting.
Dozens of eyes immediately snapped toward her. Whispers erupted like a sudden gust of wind.
Brennan rolled down the passenger window. He leaned over, his gentle smile widening into something cruel.
"Have a wonderful first day, Averi!" Brennan shouted, making sure his voice carried over the courtyard.
He rolled the window up and drove away, leaving her completely exposed to the wolves.
Averi ignored the burning stares. She kept her head down and walked straight into the main academic building.
She found her locker in the crowded hallway. She reached out to spin the combination dial.
A hand slammed flat against the metal door, right next to her face.
Averi didn't flinch. She slowly turned her head.
Tinsley Vance stood there. She was the undisputed queen of the school, wearing a custom-tailored blazer and a sneer that mirrored Holt's. Two girls stood right behind her, acting as her shadow.
"You're the charity case," Tinsley said loudly. The hallway went quiet. Everyone was watching. "You smell like a literal dumpster. Are you sure you're not lost?"
Averi stared at Tinsley's perfectly manicured nails pressing against the locker. She didn't say a word. She just stepped back, intending to walk around them.
Tinsley's eyes flashed with fury at being ignored.
She grabbed the large iced coffee from her friend's hand and hurled the dark liquid straight at Averi's chest.
Averi's reflexes fired. She shifted her weight and slid a half-step backward.
The coffee splashed violently against the metal locker door, raining down onto the floor. Not a single drop touched Averi's sweater.
Tinsley gasped, her face turning red.
Averi didn't even blink. She turned and walked down the hall toward her first class.
At noon, the cafeteria was deafening. Averi skipped lunch. She walked into the girls' bathroom on the second floor. It was empty.
She walked over to the sink and turned on the water.
The sound of the heavy bathroom door locking echoed off the tile walls.
Averi looked up into the mirror.
Tinsley stood by the door, her hand still on the deadbolt. Her two friends flanked her. They blocked the only exit.
Tinsley rolled up the sleeves of her blazer. She marched toward Averi, her face twisted in ugly rage.
"You think you can embarrass me?" Tinsley shrieked. "I'm going to teach you exactly where you belong, you piece of trash."
Tinsley raised her right hand high, aiming a vicious slap directly at Averi's face.
The pathetic, hunched posture vanished from Averi's body.
Her eyes turned into chips of black ice.
Averi's left hand shot up like a striking snake. She caught Tinsley's wrist mid-air. Her fingers clamped down on the bone with the crushing force of a steel vice.
Tinsley's eyes bulged. A piercing scream ripped from her throat as the bones in her wrist ground together.
Averi didn't hesitate. She pivoted on her left foot, driving her right leg forward in a brutal, sweeping arc.
Her shin slammed into the back of Tinsley's knees.
Tinsley's legs flew out from under her. She crashed hard onto the unforgiving ceramic tile floor. The breath exploded from her lungs in a violent gasp.
The two friends screamed and lunged forward.
Averi dropped Tinsley's wrist. She spun, using the momentum to deliver a flawless, lightning-fast roundhouse kick. Her heel connected squarely with the first girl's stomach. The girl folded in half and flew backward, crashing into the metal stall door.
The second girl froze in terror.
Averi grabbed her by the lapels of her expensive blazer. She lifted her onto her toes and slammed her backward against the mirrors above the sinks.
The heavy glass shuddered violently, threatening to shatter.
Averi pinned the girl there, her forearm pressing against the girl's collarbone, cutting off her air.
Ten seconds. The fight was over.
The bathroom was filled with the sound of wheezing and quiet sobbing.
Averi released the girl against the mirror. She stepped over Tinsley, who was curled in a fetal position on the wet floor, clutching her wrist.
Averi crouched down. She grabbed a fistful of Tinsley's blonde hair and yanked her head back.
"Listen to me very carefully," Averi whispered. Her voice was dead calm, devoid of any emotion. "If you dare come near me again, I'll break your arm. Do you understand?"
Tinsley stared into Averi's eyes. She saw pure, unfiltered violence. Tinsley sobbed hysterically, nodding her head as fast as she could.
Averi let go of her hair. She stood up.
She walked over to the sink, turned on the water, and washed her hands. She pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, dried her fingers, and tossed it perfectly into the trash can.
She unlocked the bathroom door and walked out into the hallway. The shrill lunch bell shrieked through the halls at that exact moment, its harsh sound perfectly covering the last of the whimpers from inside and sending the few lingering students scattering toward their next class. Her face returning to a mask of dull indifference.
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8.3
Betrayed at the altar. Replaced by her own sister.
On what should have been the happiest day of her life, Amara loses everything-her fiancé, her dignity, and her future.
But that same night, a dangerous man steps out of the shadows with an offer she can't refuse.
Marriage. Power. Revenge.
Now bound to a ruthless CEO, Amara is ready to destroy everyone who betrayed her.
There's just one problem...
Her new husband knows more about her past than he should.
And the closer she gets to revenge-
the more she realizes she may have married the man who ruined her in the first place.
7.4
Four years ago, to protect the man I loved from losing his billionaire empire, I drugged his drink, told him I only used him for his money, and vanished.
Now, at a high-society gala, Callum Wyatt is back. He isn't just a CEO anymore; he's a ruthless predator, and the second his eyes lock onto me, I know I am his prey.
When my wealthy half-sister publicly humiliated me, calling me the cheap bastard child of a homewrecker, Callum stepped out of the shadows. He nearly snapped her wrist in half and declared to New York's elite that anyone who touched me would be dismantled.
In the back of his Maybach, he pinned my arms above my head, his eyes burning with psychotic obsession.
"If you run again, Aubrey, I will burn your entire world to the ground just to keep you."
My heart bled. I had spent four grueling years tearing myself apart to keep him out of my messy, blood-soaked revenge against the family that watched my mother die.
But his terrifying protection only made my biological father's family target me harder, using their massive capital to buy out my movie set and crush my acting career.
They thought I would cower.
But as I walked onto the soundstage, facing the heiress trying to steal my role, I took off my sunglasses. I wasn't running anymore; it was time to make them pay.
8.8
Kaia was diagnosed with late-stage bone cancer, with only three months left to live.
She wanted to give up her family's entire trust fund just to have Gerrit play the role of a loving husband for her final days.
But before she could show him the biopsy report, he looked at her with absolute disgust, declaring that their three-year marriage made him physically sick.
He only loved Seraphina.
To force Kaia out, Seraphina constantly framed her. When Seraphina faked a fall, Gerrit pushed Kaia so hard she tore her waist open on a glass table.
When Kaia writhed in agonizing pain from her failing organs, he stood over her coldly, mocking her pathetic acting.
Even when Gerrit finally discovered Seraphina had hired a fake stalker and maliciously burned Kaia's skin with boiling tea, he still chose to protect his mistress.
"I already signed the divorce papers with Kaia. We are going to bury this story temporarily to protect the company."
Hearing those words from behind the wall, the last shred of hope in Kaia's chest completely died.
She had endured his cruelty for three years, only to realize his bias for another woman defied all logic and morality.
Lying in the bathtub, coughing up mouthfuls of dark blood that turned the water crimson, Kaia picked up her phone and dialed her lawyer.
"Julian, initiate the final plan."
Since Gerrit despised her existence, she would make sure he never found her body.
8.5
Alexandrea woke up with a splitting headache in a strange hotel bed, terrified to find a brutally handsome, half-naked stranger beside her.
Before she could even scream, the door burst open. Her adoptive mother, Ivette, stormed in with a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras.
"How could you disgrace our family name like this?"
Ivette sobbed, putting on a theatrical performance of a heartbroken mother. It was a setup to completely ruin Alexandrea's reputation in front of New York's elite.
For ten years, Alexandrea had lived in a house of horrors. Her back and arms were covered in silvery scars and puckered cigarette burns left by Ivette's vicious abuse.
Yet to the public, Ivette had carefully crafted Alexandrea's image as a wild, ungrateful, and manipulative liar.
Trapped under the duvet, Alexandrea was drowning in shame, her voice lost in the storm of accusations.
She didn't understand why her adoptive family hated her so much, treating her worse than a stray dog while using her brother's future to keep her chained.
But what she understood even less was the stranger beside her.
Instead of panicking, the man slowly sat up, his presence alone silencing the frantic room. He was Ace Griffith, the billionaire heir who owned half of Manhattan.
He wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling shoulders, looked Ivette dead in the eye, and dropped a bomb.
"I will be marrying her."
Then, he carried Alexandrea away from her ten-year prison, ordering his men to dig up the Terry family's darkest secrets and her true identity.
7.9
For five years, April Gamble loved Julian Travis with everything she had, trusting him completely.
But on a stormy night, he casually tossed a liquidation agreement at her feet, single-handedly destroying her grandfather's company.
He coldly admitted he only dated her to steal Vance Group's internal financial data.
"You were convenient," Julian said, swirling his whiskey without a shred of guilt.
Before April could even process the brutal betrayal, a breaking news alert lit up her phone.
She watched in absolute horror as her grandfather jumped from the ledge of the Vance Tower on live television.
Julian looked at her writhing, screaming form with utter boredom and simply ordered his bodyguard to throw her out.
Blinded by grief and tears, April sped into the torrential rain, only to be completely crushed by a hydroplaning transport truck at an intersection.
As the shattered glass tore into her skin and the metal crushed her ribs, she died with a hatred so pure it made her teeth ache.
Why did five years of devotion mean absolutely nothing to him? Why did her family have to die just to feed his ruthless greed?
When she opened her eyes again, the harsh hospital lights blinded her, but the familiar burn scar on her arm was gone.
She wasn't the betrayed financial analyst April Gamble anymore.
She had woken up in the body of Altagracia Blanchard, the most notorious, obscenely wealthy heiress in New York.
Julian had taken everything from her, but now, armed with a billionaire's empire, she was going to bury him.
9.5
For two years, Clementine played the perfectly obedient wife to billionaire Donovan Bray, wearing his heavy diamonds and enduring his cold indifference.
Until she accidentally saw his tablet and discovered she was just a "collateral asset"—a cheap lookalike prop hired to make his ex-girlfriend, Gisela, jealous.
When Gisela returned to New York, Donovan's mask completely slipped.
During a vicious argument where he mocked Clementine as a pathetic shadow, he grabbed her, causing her to fall down a flight of marble stairs.
Waking up in the hospital, Clementine learned she had miscarried a six-week-old baby she didn't even know she had.
But what truly shattered her was hearing Donovan's voice through the cracked hospital door.
"It changes nothing."
He coldly lied to his friend that the fall had caused permanent infertility.
"It was probably for the best."
He had killed her unborn child and casually dismissed her worth, truly believing she was a penniless nobody who would suffer his abuse in silence.
He thought he held all the power, leaving her broken and discarded for his true love.
What Donovan didn't know was that his fragile, dependent wife was secretly "C.", the billionaire genius behind Aurelian, the world's most exclusive luxury jewelry empire.
Lying in the sterile room, Clementine dried her tears, filed for a ruthless divorce, and permanently froze his supplementary black card.
It was time to show him who really held the strings.