The Substitute Bride: Unveiling the Paralyzed Don

5

The Smileless Altar

St. Jude's Cathedral, tucked away on the outskirts of Chicago, looked like a decaying ancient castle. There was no red carpet strewn with rose petals, no gentle organ music, and no hundreds of glamorous guests. There was only a gripping silence, the chill of stone walls, and a few men in black suits guarding every outer corner, their hands poised beneath their coats.

Harper Vargas stood alone before the silent altar.

The simple white wedding dress she wore contrasted sharply with the dimly lit church. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun without elaborate jewelry, covered only by a thin, transparent veil. She clasped her own fingers, which were beginning to grow cold as the autumn air bit through the cracks in the stainedglass windows.

The old priest standing before her looked at Harper with eyes full of sympathy. He knew all too well that this was not a blessed union, but a bloody transaction between two underworld dynasties.

CRACK!

Thunder roared across the Chicago sky, followed by the double doors of the cathedral suddenly swinging wide. A gust of cold night air surged in, causing the candles on the altar to flicker violently, nearly extinguishing them.

Harper turned slowly. Her heart hammered against her ribs, yet her eyes remained fixed on the entrance, unwavering.

Two men in black suits stepped in first, followed by a middleaged woman walking with absolute grace. Isabella Moretti. Dressed in a gown of deep black velvet, the woman looked Harper up and down with a gaze laden with cold judgment.

Right behind Isabella, a soft whirring sound broke the church's silence: the motor of an electric wheelchair.

There he was. Lorenzo "Enzo" Moretti.

Harper held her breath for a moment. Enzo wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, wrapping around an upper body that looked as solid and rigid as an ancient soldier's. His face was strikingly handsome, with a firm jawline adorned with light stubble, yet that charming facade was buried beneath an expression so cold and lethal. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto Harper with a flash of suppressed rage.

His long legs were bent stiffly, resting on the wheelchair's footrests, partially covered by a long black coat. The man feared across Chicago for his cruelty now had to approach his own altar on iron wheels.

Julian Hayes walked faithfully at Enzo's side, stopping the wheelchair right next to Harper.

The atmosphere before the altar suddenly grew thick with intimidation. Enzo had no intention of getting down-or rather, he could not. He tilted his head slightly, staring at Harper with utter disdain.

"So, this is the little b***h Arthur Vargas sent to replace his precious granddaughter?" Enzo's voice was low, raspy, and so cold it made the priest's skin crawl.

Harper did not step back. Instead, she met Enzo's eagleeyed glare with her own clear, steady gaze. "My name is Harper Vargas. And I am here to fulfill the pact you demanded."

Enzo let out a cynical chuckle, a dry sound devoid of life. "Harper? A strange name. Your family must think themselves so clever for swapping brides with a useless pawn like you. Did they think I wouldn't know?"

"Enzo, enough. Mind your tongue before the altar," Isabella interjected, her voice firm but calm. She glanced at the old priest with a threatening look. "Begin the procession. We don't have much time for family drama."

The priest swallowed hard. With slightly trembling hands, he opened his prayer book. The wedding ceremony proceeded quickly and coldly. No rings were exchanged with tenderness, no sacred vows were spoken with tears of joy.

When it came time to recite the vows, Enzo stared at Harper with a lethal smirk. "I, Lorenzo Moretti, take you as the one to satisfy your family's ego. And I promise you, you will remember this day as the beginning of your hell."

Harper took a deep breath, looking straight into the hateful depths of her husband's eyes. "I, Harper Vargas, take you as my husband. And I am not afraid of any hell."

After the priest pronounced them husband and wife, there was no 'you may kiss the bride.' Enzo immediately spun his wheelchair's controls harshly, turning his back on Harper without another glance.

"Julian, take this woman to the car in the back. The Moretti mansion doesn't accept slow guests," Enzo commanded coldly, driving his wheelchair away from the altar.

Isabella approached Harper, looking at her new daughterinlaw with a thin, unreadable smile. "Welcome to the Moretti family, Harper. I hope you have the mental fortitude to survive in our mansion."

Harper only gave a slow nod. While adjusting her veil, which had been ruffled by the wind, she watched Enzo's broad back slowly retreat on his wheelchair. In her heart, Harper whispered: That man is wounded, angry, and dangerous. But I will not let myself be destroyed by his hands.

After the priest pronounced them husband and wife, there was no 'you may kiss the bride.' Enzo immediately spun his wheelchair's controls harshly, turning his back on Harper without looking at her again.

"Julian, take this woman to the car in the back. The Moretti mansion doesn't accept slow guests," Enzo ordered coldly, steering his wheelchair away from the altar with a faint, steady hum of its motor.

Isabella Moretti did not leave immediately. The graceful yet lethal middleaged woman walked toward Harper. She stared at her new daughterinlaw from head to toe with a thin, ironic smile.

"Your grandfather sent a letter of apology yesterday, claiming his eldest granddaughter-Chloe-had fallen suddenly and gravely ill, and that is why you were sent here," Isabella said, her voice sounding calm yet sharp as a dagger.

Harper was slightly startled, but she maintained a flat expression. So, Enzo and his mother had known from the start that she was a replacement bride.

Isabella chuckled softly-a cold sound that did not reach her eyes. "A very cliché 'illness.' We know the Vargas family was just scared to death to marry their golden daughter to my son, who is currently crippled. They think we're fools."

Isabella leaned in close to Harper's ear, whispering words that made the air around them freeze.

"Enzo has known you were the one who would stand at this altar since yesterday, Harper. And he despises cowards, including the family that sent you. Welcome to the Moretti family. I hope you have the mental fortitude to survive in our mansion."

Isabella turned and walked gracefully to follow her son, closely guarded by bodyguards.

Harper stood frozen for a moment before the silent altar. She straightened her veil, which had been disheveled by the night wind. That man-her new husband-was not only wounded and dangerous, but was now filled with resentment at having been deceived by the Vargas family.

As she stepped out of the cathedral toward the waiting car, Harper steeled her heart. They know I am a sacrificial lamb, and they hate me for it. But I will not let myself be broken at the hands of Lorenzo Moretti.