THE OTHER BRIDE

CHAPTER TWO

Lyzander finally stepped out of the car, adjusting his suit jacket. He barely glanced at the men. When a tall, shouldered man with golden hair and a sharp smirk stepped forward.

Rowan Draven Rodnikovsky. Lyzander’s second-in-command. And, apparently, someone very entertained by the sight of her.

“Didn’t expect to see you still in your wedding dress tonight,” Rowan mused, eyeing her from head to toe. Arielle clenched her teeth. Giving him that classic “Who the hell are you?” look.

He caught it. “My bad, Rowan. Rowan Rodnikovsky.” He said stretching his hand towards hers, with a bright smile. Arielle swallowed an eye-roll, pleasantries weren’t skills she possessed at that moment. All she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t expect to be kidn*pped either,” she said. Rowan’s smile faded; then it transformed into something else, a smirk. Impressed. “Ah. so, no Honeymoon?” Lyzander exhaled, already tired of the conversation. “Enough. Rowan.” Rowan shrugged, but the amusement never left his face.

Lyzander turned to Arielle. His silver eyes caught the moonlight, sharp and unreadable. “Inside.” Defiant, she sized him up a bit, his domineering frame overpowering her. A flash of something passed through his gaze not anger, not impatience. Something else. A warning that made Arielle swallow and step through those doors.

The interior was just as sleek as the outside. Black marble floors, glass walls overlooking the city lights, a grand staircase that spiralled up to multiple floors. Everything about it screamed power and wealth. But it didn’t feel like a home.

Home.

Who’d think she’d ever miss a place she always wished she wasn’t a part of? A place that constantly reminded her of how much she was unwanted. This place was different it smelt different and it felt like a headquarters. People moved with purpose, men in suits, armed security officers stood at key points, staff in crisp uniforms walking briskly disappearing down corridors. This wasn’t just any house.

It was an empire. And Lyzander Luke Rathmore was its next king.

Arielle was still trying to process when a voice interrupted “I don’t believe this.” A woman stepped into view. A tall woman, wearing a black dress with perfectly trimmed short black hair, the black dress highlighted all her curves in the right areas, perfect for a slender frame. Celeste Nox. Arielle didn’t know her, but she recognized the type instantly as elegant, yet deadly. The woman’s cold blue eyes flicked to Lyzander. “Tell me you’re joking.” You could hear the scoff in her tone. Lyzander ignored her, shrugging off his jacket. “Celeste, you’ll show her to her room.” Celeste’s jaw tightened. “She’s staying here? After that stunt?” Lyzander didn’t answer. He walked out instead, leaving Arielle alone with the lady.

After a deep sigh, Celeste spread those red-stained lips and turned to Arielle. “Of course. Right this way.” The fakeness of that smile, was pungent, but did Arielle care? She just needed the day to end. So, she followed where the pretty red-lipped lady wearing red bottoms, led.

The hallway was broad and dimly lit, as they walked. With Celeste sashaying her hips before stopping at a sleek black door. She pushed it open. Arielle stepped inside quietly. She had expected a small space. Somewhere dark, cold, and lonely. But the room was…

Beautiful.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the estate, and a king-sized bed her hand ran over its soft sheets, she walked towards a door slightly open it was a bathroom a large bathroom, with a massive tub. She turned to Celeste who didn’t share the excitement.

“Mine?” Arielle asked in disbelief.

“Duh?” Celeste snapped. Arielle noticed the wardrobe with its door slightly open, showing off designer dresses with tags still on. She glanced at the neatly arranged shoes and bags, feeling both impressed and distracted by the collection. “Wow.”

“This has to be a dream.” she thought. It was bigger than her makeshift room back home.

“I wouldn’t get comfortable if I were you.” Arielle turned. “Why?” this was luxury, something unfamiliar to her, despite being born with her silver spoon she never got the chance to use it. Celeste smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Because Lyzander doesn’t keep things he doesn’t need.”

Those sharp words shot through in the air, bringing her back to her reality. Before getting a chance to respond Celeste turned on her heel and left, heels clicking against the marble.

Arielle exhaled slowly. She knew she shouldn’t, but she still admired the space—her prison. Trapped in a lavish room, bound not by chains but by designer shoes and silk sheets. A gilded cage wrapped in wealth, yet no less suffocating.

Shaking off the thought, she drifted toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, drawn by the night beyond. The city lights stretched endlessly, flickering like distant stars.

It hit her then.

She hadn’t just been married off. She had been swallowed whole.

Lyzander

Lyzander Luke Rathmore didn’t believe in fate. He believed in power. And power meant control. Control over his business. Control over his empire. Control over his own damn life. But his father had other ideas. Hadrian Rathmore had spent years building his future, setting up the perfect match, choosing a bride like she was a breeding mare to continue the Luke bloodline. And now, that bride Seraphina Calloway, the one bequeathed to him had vanished behind some illness.

Lyzander had never met her. But he knew her face. Through pictures his father had shown him over the years the perfect, poised society girl meant to stand at his side. And now? She had been replaced.

By Arielle June.

A ghost of a woman. The other option. The substitute bride. Lyzander’s grip on his cane tightened. Lyzander stood at the window of his penthouse suite, staring at the morning sun. The city stretched before him like a beast waiting to be fed. And yet, his mind wasn’t on business. It was on her.

Arielle June. The timid, feisty and fragile lady. With consuming eyes. She wasn’t built for his world. She wasn’t Seraphina, but he owned her now.

A knock at the door separated him from his thoughts, but He didn’t turn. “Come in.” The door opened, and Rowan entered, hands shoved in his pockets, smirk already in place. “She’s awake,” Rowan said lazily. “Didn’t try to run.” Lyzander didn’t react. “She wouldn’t get far if she did.” Rowan chuckled. “True. But I was looking forward to a little chase.” Lyzander didn’t respond. He already knew Rowan was too amused by this entire situation. Then a slow, deliberate pause. Rowan leaned against the wall, his smirk widening. “Y’know,” he mused, mocking but smooth, “if she stays long enough, she might give you an heir.” Lyzander’s entire body stiffened. Rowan’s smirk sharpened. “What? Too soon?” Lyzander exhaled slowly, his fingers flexing against his cane.

The heir.

The real reason his father arranged the marriage in the first place. Hadrian didn’t care about Lyzander’s happiness. He Didn’t care if he liked the woman he was supposed to marry. He just wanted to secure his empire through blood. And now, thanks to Seraphina’s mysterious illness lupus? Hepatitis? Something conveniently chronic enough to excuse her disappearance Lyzander was left with a new option. Arielle. Rowan grinned. “Hope she doesn’t get that comfortable, huh?” Lyzander finally turned from the window, his silver eyes like ice. “Do you ever shut up?” Rowan just laughed, pushing off the wall. “Relax. She doesn’t seem like the type to seduce you for power. she already rejected you once.” Rejection? That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that Hadrian had already decided Arielle was a suitable replacement. And if his father had his way, she’d be carrying a Rathmore heir before the year was out. Lyzander clenched his jaw.

Over his dead body.

Lyz walked into the dining hall majestically. he didn’t miss how the aura shifted in the room, the minimal adjustments that were made by the people in the room- Rowan, Celeste, the maids, and Arielle a small figure sitting at the left wing of the long glass dining table; far from where he usually sat, she was trying to go unnoticed. As he sat on his chair he was greeted by the smell of the freshly made bacon and steaming hot cocoa that sat before him, rowan was already munching on his bacon, Celeste silently sipping, monitoring Arielle like a hawk.

Celeste hated drama and surprises. And seeing Arielle instead of Seraphina surprised her. Following the drama that unfolded at his wedding at his expense must have sent Arielle’s name straight to Celeste’s black book.

The poor girl’s fingers curled around a steaming cup of coffee. She looked small. Like she was trying to disappear into the chair. He noticed she’d changed from the wedding dress into one of the silk robes from the guest suites. Pink looked good on her skin, her curls hung loosely around her shoulders, and her face was still pale from exhaustion. She hadn’t looked at him yet. She kept her gaze down, like if she stayed still enough, she’d disappear.

Lyzander let the silence stretch. Then, finally, he spoke. “Did you sleep?” Arielle’s grip on the cup tightened.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze. Dark brown eyes met silver.

“I—” she hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I did.” Lyzander tilted his head slightly. She was nervous. Of course, she was.