The Billionaire Replace Bride

Elena Cross stood in the hallway of her childhood home and listened to her life being sold.The walls here were thick with memory. The wallpaper was the same pale blue her mother had chosen twenty-six years ago, when Elena was born and they still pretended they were a normal family. The carpet under her feet was worn thin in the exact spot where she used to kneel as a kid, waiting to be called into the dining room. Most nights, the call never came.Tonight, the voices coming from her father’s study were too loud to ignore.“If we don’t marry her to Wolfe by Friday, we lose everything,” Richard Cross said. His voice was tight, desperate. The kind of desperate that made men do things they couldn’t take back.Elena’s fingers tightened on the doorframe. Wolfe. Damien Wolfe. The man whose name had been on every financial news site for the last month. Vale Corporation was collapsing, and the only thing keeping it afloat was a merger. A marriage merger.“Sophia is only nineteen,” her mother

Damien woke at with a splitting headache and the taste of whiskey still coating his tongue.For a second, he thought it had been a nightmare. The courthouse at 3 AM. The rushed vows. The girl in the ivory dress who wasn’t Sophia.Then he saw her.Elena Cross sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a thin blanket, her face pale but her eyes clear. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t begging. She just looked at him like she’d already accepted the worst of it.“Who told you to come here?” he demanded, pushing himself upright. The room spun.Elena flinch.“you asked for me,” she said. Her voice was steady, too steady for someone who’d been dragged into a marriage against her will. “Your wife. According to the marriage certificate you signed at 3:14 AM.”Damien stared at her. The name meant nothing. The face meant nothing. He’d been told Sophia would be here. Sophia, nineteen, soft-spoken, desperate to please. This woman was older, sharper, and she wasn’t looking at him like he owned her.“You tr

~Nextday morning~Elena woke up to the smell of antiseptic and . For a second, she thought she was back in the east wing bedroom. Then the pain hit. Her back felt like it had been flayed open and stitched back together with fire. She bit down on a groan and forced her eyes open. White ceiling. IV stand. A doctor in scrubs packing up a bag. “Easy,” the doctor said, not unkindly. “You’re awake. No permanent damage. But don’t move too fast for the next 48 hours.” Elena tried to sit up. “Why am I here?” Her voice was hoarse. “You were flogged,” the doctor said bluntly. “Your husband stopped it before you lost consciousness. I was called in an hour ago.” Husband. Damien. He’d stopped it. But only after eight strikes. Only after she’d gone limp. “Who paid you?” Elena asked. The doctor hesitated, then said, “Not your husband. A man who said if I didn’t come, he’d have my license reviewed.” He left a bottle of painkillers and a note on the bedside table. No name. Just:

~IN The Morning ~ Damien Room Damien woke up because the house was too quiet. He lay there a moment, staring at the ceiling trying to remember what happened, but he couldn't. No headache. No metallic taste in his mouth. That meant he didn't drink last night. He remembered what happened clearly. He sat up slowly. His body felt stiff, like a ply of wood wait to be carried. He came down from the bed walking towards the door. The east wing was silent. The lights in the hall were too bright the sun reflection did it work . His footsteps made no sound on the marblas he walk towards Elena room. Elena’s door wasn’t locked. She didn’t locked it last night. And he found her on the bed. She was asleep on the cot, curled into herself, blanket pulled up to her chin. And her hair was stuck to her forehead. She looked younger asleep. Less like someone who was holding herself together by force of will. Damien stood there for longer than he meant to. Then he moved, he walk to the ba

Wolfe's Estate ~sunday morning Sunday morning came with sunlight that felt too clean for Elena. She woke up in the guest room of the family estate to the sound of Beatrice humming down the room. No machines beeping. No antiseptic. After the accident Beatrice couldn't leave her to go home so she spent the weekend with the family, even though Damien hasn't shown since then , but what the need if he shows any way. She sat up slowly. Her body still ached, but it was a dull ache now, the kind that came after your body realized it could stop bracing for impact. “Morning, zombie,” Beatrice said, poking her head through the door with a mug in hand. “Mom said no caffeine, but I figured you need this more than another lecture.” Elena took the mug with both hands. The warmth seeped into her fingers. “Thanks.” “Breakfast in twenty,” Beatrice said. “Dad’s doing pancakes. Victor’s complaining about it already. Don’t be late, or Dad will eat your share.” Elena managed a small smile. “I’