The substitute wife

The substitutebride

Elena’s POV

“What do you mean she is gone? Where is Sophia? Why is her gown here and she is not?" I basically rapped out the questions.

“After I left you locked up,” he said slowly, “I went to Sophia’s suite. She… she asked me to sit with her for a moment.”

That hurt more than any other admission: he had locked me away like some unwanted secret, then gone straight to the daughter he adored, the one who carried all his hopes and pride.

“I told her how proud I was,” he continued, softening, “and that marrying Adrian would change everything for all of us..”

My throat constricted painfully. He had never spoken to me like that. Not once had he ever said to me in my life that he was proud of me.

"What happened next?" I forced the words out.

"I left to check on a few details in my suite," he quickly explained. "When I came back for her, she was gone. I asked one of the cleaners. She said Sophia had left claiming she was late. I rushed out—her bridal car was missing. The guards confirmed she had left barely some time earlier."

He raked a trembling hand through his graying hair. "I thought she must have gone to the church. So I got into my car and drove there at once. But when we reached there..." His voice lowered to a whisper, "The car wasn't there. The bride wasn't there."

I gazed at him. "So where is she now?"

Before he could answer, his phone buzzed sharply. He lifted it with shaking hands.

"Yes?" His voice trembled. Pause. Then his face paled. "I—I understand. We are on our way. Please, just give us a few minutes. The bride will be there."

And before I could say anything, he hung up the phone.

"Father?" My stomach rolled in dread. "What's going on? Who was that?"

But before he could reply, the door swung open. Two women dressed in black hotel uniforms walked in with a bag slung over each of their shoulders.

"Make her ready," Father barked.

My body froze in place. "Wait—make who ready?"

"You," he spat, pointing directly at me. "Hurry. Make her perfect."

The women made their way toward me. Panic seized me. "What? No! Father, what is going on?"

He closed in, his eyes hardening again. "You are going to replace your sister at the altar, at least until they find her. If she shows up before you get there, all is well. If she doesn’t—”

Cold blood ran through me. "Replace her? You are joking!"

But the women were already tugging on my hair, pulling pins and brushes free. One of them reached for the hem of my blouse.

“Take off your clothes, miss,” she encouraged.

I froze and cuddled my arms. "No, I'm not doing this!"

Father's eyes turned deadly. "Elena, do as you're told."

"This is insane!" My voice broke from the force of my terror. "What if Adrian realizes? What if everybody realizes—"

His hand slammed against the dresser, making me flinch. "Do you want me ruined? Do you want to destroy everything? This wedding is the only thing standing between us and bankruptcy! You will do this, Elena. You will do this, or I swear—"

The rest of his threat turned to nothing as the women relentlessly stripped me of my clothes, their intercepts and objections falling on deaf ears against their practiced hands. In no time, the gown was forced down my neck.

The tears stung at my eyes as they tightened the corset and fastened the buttons.

When the last pin had been stricken into place in my hair, Father walked in and covered my face with a long veil.

"Perfect," he muttered. Then he took my wrist, squeezing so tightly that I winced. "Come. We are late."

I stumbled behind him, the weight of the gown making my steps wobbly. Down the stairs, along the corridor, and out through the doors, where a black car was awaiting.

“Father, please,” I whispered. “This isn’t right. I can’t do this. I can’t marry Adrian in Sophia’s place—”

“Enough!” he bellowed as I recoiled from the sharp lash. His face contorted with rage. “Follow my orders, Elena. This is your chance to be useful at last.”

Tears scorched my eyes, but I said nothing. He places a folded sheet of paper in my hand.

“Learn it. Your vows.” He ordered and the rest of the ride was done in silence.

The car screeched to a halt. Father stepped out first, pulling me along with him.

The scene outside was pure frenzy. A battalion of paparazzi crawled against barricades, their cameras flashing forcing me into momentary blindness. "Sophia! Sophia!" they screamed.

The guards quickly surrounded us, creating a wall of black suits.

My legs trembled as Father seized my hand. Thank God the veil shielded my face, but it felt like the eyes of the entire world were on me.

The heavy doors swung open. A hush fell over the grand church. Hundreds of heads turned.

My father squeezed my hand tighter, saying, "Smile."

One step after another, we moved down the aisle. My steps were wobbly with fear; I was not the bride; I was a fraud, not Sophia.

But no one seemed to notice.

At the altar, Adrian Blake turned in my direction. He smiled, the smile of a man about to marry the woman of his dreams.

Or so he thought.

The priest had started. My voice quivered as I repeated the vows my father had forced me to memorize.

And then I saw it.

Adrian's smile faded, as he shifted his stare from me to my father. His jaw clenched, and his brow raised.

I held my breath. He knew. He had to have known.

My father stood silent.

"If any man or woman knows any cause why these two should not be joined together in holy matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace." The priest’s voice boomed.

An eerie silence.

No one spoke.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride." The priest took a step back after saying this.

My breath was caught somewhere between my throat and Adrian lifting the veil to kiss his bride.

“Sophia or Elena?”