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 8
Izabella clapped her hands together, her diamond bracelets clinking.
She gestured to the mountain of luxury shopping bags piled near the sofa. "I brought gifts for everyone from Europe!"
She pulled out a sleek, wooden box and handed it to Holt. He ripped it open. Inside sat a limited-edition Patek Philippe watch. Holt whistled loudly, immediately strapping it to his wrist.
Next, she handed a heavy, square package to Zane. He opened it to find a collection of rare, out-of-print vinyl records. He gave her a rare, genuine smile.
Finally, Izabella picked up a small, velvet box. She walked over to Clarke and handed it to him with both hands, her eyes gazing up at him adoringly.
Clarke opened it. It was a custom-made platinum tie clip. He stared at it for a second, his face unreadable. "Thank you," he said quietly, setting the box down on the coffee table.
Izabella turned around. She put her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in exaggerated shock as she looked at Averi standing in the corner.
"Oh my god," Izabella gasped, her voice loud enough for the entire room to hear. "Averi, I am so, so sorry. I didn't know you were going to be here. I didn't buy you anything."
Holt let out a loud, cruel snort. "Don't worry about it, Bella. She wouldn't know what to do with luxury anyway. She'd probably try to eat it."
Averi kept her face perfectly blank. She shook her head, forcing a thick, awkward smile. "It's fine. I don't need anything."
Ricardo walked into the room, taking in the scene. He frowned slightly.
"Actually," Ricardo said, "the family is attending a charity gala this weekend. Clarke, take the girls to Fifth Avenue this afternoon. Averi needs a gown."
Izabella instantly looped her arm through Clarke's. "Oh, that's a wonderful idea! I'd love to help Averi pick out something... appropriate for her."
An hour later, the three of them stood inside the most exclusive haute couture boutique on Fifth Avenue.
The boutique manager rushed forward the moment Clarke walked in. But when her eyes landed on Averi's muddy face and baggy sweater, she physically recoiled, her smile faltering.
Izabella took total control. She ordered the staff to bring out the latest season's dresses. She stood in front of the massive three-way mirror, holding up a stunning, elegant black velvet gown against her body, admiring her own reflection.
Then, Izabella walked over to a rack in the far back corner. It was the clearance section for out-of-season, rejected designs.
She pulled out a dress.
It was a nightmare of fabric. It was a blinding, neon pink tulle ballgown. The skirt was ridiculously poofy, and the bodice was covered in cheap-looking plastic rhinestones. It looked like a costume for a deranged clown.
Izabella walked over and shoved the heavy pink monstrosity into Averi's arms.
"This is it," Izabella said, her eyes shining with malicious glee. "This color is so vibrant. It really brings out the... youth in your face. You have to wear this."
The boutique manager quickly turned her head, pressing her lips together to stop a laugh. Two salesgirls in the back openly covered their mouths, their shoulders shaking.
Clarke sat on a white leather sofa in the waiting area. He was flipping through a financial magazine. He didn't look up. He didn't care.
Averi looked down at the hideous pink dress. Her stomach twisted, not with humiliation, but with cold, calculated rage.
She immediately plastered a look of overwhelming gratitude onto her face.
"Oh wow," Averi gasped, clutching the tulle to her chest. "I've never owned anything so beautiful. Thank you so much, Izabella!"
Izabella's smile tightened. She had wanted Averi to cry, to feel the sting of the insult. But Averi's apparent stupidity ruined the fun. Izabella turned to Clarke. "She loves it, Clarke."
Clarke finally looked up. His eyes landed on the neon pink disaster. His brow furrowed deeply. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
But he didn't say a word to defend her. He simply pulled a black Amex card from his wallet and handed it to the manager. "Ring it up."
Averi walked into the fitting room to change.
She stood in front of the mirror. She looked at her yellow face, the thick glasses, and the ridiculous pink dress.
She let out a low, dark laugh.
She pulled out her encrypted phone and sent a message to Finn.
Need a micro-syringe of solvent and a waterproof earpiece. Have it ready by Saturday.
Averi changed back into her sweater. She walked out of the fitting room carrying the massive garment bag.
Izabella linked arms with Averi as they walked out onto the bustling sidewalk of Fifth Avenue. Izabella smiled for the paparazzi snapping photos of Clarke.
Averi smiled too. She looked at the side of Izabella's perfectly contoured face, her eyes dead and cold.
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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.