The Substitute Bride

Chapter 3

CHRISTIAN

I never wanted this marriage. Not one bit.

From the moment my grandfather brought up the idea, I felt a pit form in my stomach. This wasn’t just a casual favor—he was orchestrating my life like I was some chess piece in a grand plan I never signed up for. In his eyes, marrying Mr. Robert’s daughter was about honor. Loyalty. A thank-you for some old debt that happened decades before I was even born.

But to me? It felt like a betrayal.

Especially to Selena.

Selena was the only light I had after the darkness swallowed my life. When my parents died in that crash, I shut down. One moment, I was a son. The next, I was an orphan with a stepmother who never wanted me around and siblings who treated me like competition instead of blood. My world tilted that day—and Selena helped me find my footing again.

We planned everything—our future, our home, even the names of our kids someday. She believed in me. And I loved her for that.

Then my grandfather dropped the bombshell.

“If you refuse this marriage,” he’d said coolly, “I’ll revoke your inheritance.”

I laughed at first. I thought he was joking. But the look in his eyes was as serious as death. He meant it.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I’m very serious,” he replied. “This family comes before your feelings. Mr. Robert saved my life, and this is how we repay him.”

I was twenty-five—fully capable of making my own choices. But I also knew that without the inheritance, I’d have to start over from scratch. Every company I’d built, every asset I’d touched under the O’Brien name—it would all disappear in a flash.

So I agreed. Not because I was okay with it—but because I had a plan.

I’d marry Aubrey, collect the inheritance, and file for divorce as soon as I legally could. Then, I’d return to Selena. She agreed to wait. We both knew this marriage would be temporary. A formality. Nothing more.

But then… the wedding happened. And nothing went the way I thought it would.

The girl I was supposed to marry—the one I’d seen in pictures, whose name I memorized but face I never cared to—she looked at me like I was the sun. Like she saw something worth loving. Her eyes weren’t just brown; they held a softness that made me pause. Something was off. Aubrey didn’t act like the confident, fashionable socialite I’d read about. She seemed… shy. Nervous. Too real.

Even when I kissed her at the altar—just for show—I could feel her tremble. She gasped like it was her first kiss. Who was this girl?

I dismissed the thought. Maybe she was just nervous. But the way she looked at me—like I was someone important, not just a paycheck—it made my chest tighten in ways I didn’t like.

Still, I didn’t trust her. I knew girls like her—gold diggers wrapped in pretty packaging. She probably saw this as her big break. Becoming Mrs. O’Brien meant a life of wealth, influence, and status. And I wasn’t going to let her fool me like she did the rest of them.

The reception was in full swing when I saw her arguing with Selena.

I excused myself from a group of investors and crossed the room in seconds. My instincts kicked in. Selena looked upset—hurt—and no one was allowed to hurt her. Not on my watch.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice sharp.

“She’s mocking me, babe,” Selena said, her voice shaking slightly.

That was all I needed to hear. I grabbed Aubrey’s wrist and pulled her away from the crowd. We ended up in a side hallway near the bathrooms.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped, slamming my palm against the wall beside her head. She flinched, her eyes wide. “Do not disrespect Selena again. Do you hear me?”

She nodded quickly, her lips parted like she wanted to say something—but nothing came out.

“You don’t deserve to be in that dress,” I added coldly. “That’s her place, not yours.”

With that, I released her wrist and stormed off. I had no idea why her expression haunted me all night.

After the last guests left, we drove to the mansion—my grandfather’s estate, the place that held every painful memory of my childhood. The media called us a perfect family. Power. Wealth. Class.

They didn’t know the truth.

They didn’t know my stepmother Bianca tried to poison my relationship with my father every chance she got. They didn’t know she whispered in his ear about her own son, Carl, being the “better fit” to inherit the family empire. Or how Carolyn, her precious daughter, always looked at me like I was a threat to be eliminated.

We were a ticking time bomb under a gold-plated roof.

The car ride was quiet. Aubrey sat beside me, too still, her hands folded in her lap like she was afraid to breathe. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have anything to say.

When we arrived at the estate, I handed my jacket to a maid without looking back. “Get me a glass of water,” I said simply. I walked into the house, fully aware of Aubrey trailing a few steps behind.

Later, my grandfather summoned me to his room. Another lecture on marriage. Unity. Honor. I tuned him out after the first five minutes. I nodded at all the right times and pretended to agree. All I wanted was for this night to be over.

When I finally made it to my room—no, our room—I realized what I’d signed up for.

This girl was part of my life now. And whether I liked it or not, she had access to my private space, my routine, my world.

I opened the door and nearly froze.

Aubrey was stepping out of the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around her chest. Her skin was still damp, her long hair dripping water onto the carpet. She didn’t see me at first. She tried to shut the bathroom door behind her, but her towel got caught on the handle.

Before I could look away, it slipped.

Time slowed.

She gasped and grabbed for it, but it was too late. She was standing there—naked, vulnerable, mortified. Her arms flew across her chest as her eyes locked with mine.

For a split second, I didn’t see a gold digger. I didn’t see a threat.

I saw a girl.

One who didn’t want to be here any more than I did. One who was shoved into a role that wasn’t hers. One who looked… lost.

I turned away instantly, my jaw tight. “Next time, lock the damn door.”

She didn’t reply. She just disappeared back into the bathroom, and I could hear her breathing fast—like she was holding back tears.

I sat on the edge of the bed, dragging a hand down my face.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

Because the girl in that towel? She wasn’t the enemy.

And the more I looked at her, the more I wondered: who the hell was really standing beside me at that altar?