The Billionaire’s Reckoning Bride

Elizabeth POV I woke up with a pounding headache and a strange taste in my mouth. Where the hell...? I blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to make sense of where I was. The last thing I remembered clearly was sitting in a dimly lit restaurant in midtown Manhattan, forcing smiles through endless small talk with investors. I hadn’t even wanted to be there. I’d been sent as a last-minute replacement for my stepsister, Pearl. How the hell did I end up here? Panic crawled up my spine instantly as I glanced around the room. I stretched out my hand to the empty space beside me. The bed was too big... too comfortable for someone like me. I froze as a thought suddenly slipped into my mind. Did someone bring me here? If yes, then why? And where are they? I glanced at myself and discovered that I was still wearing the black cocktail dress from last night, wrinkled, but intact. No rips, no missing buttons. Which means, nothing happened. But my surroundings screamed luxury I wasn’t used to. A sharp knock on the door made my heart skip a beat. I turned to it instantly, grabbing the sheet tightly as if it would shield me from whatever was coming. “Who is it?” I asked with a hoarse voice. Before I could get an answer, the door flung open, and my heart sank instantly as my eyes landed on the last person I expected to see. Jackson Labonair. The man who had been my stepsister’s boyfriend, the one who had broken her heart and somehow left mine in pieces just by existing. He leaned casually in the doorway with a crooked grin on his face. “Good morning, wifey,” he said, as if this was perfectly normal. I choked on air. Wifey? “Excuse me?” My voice sounded small, and worse, panicked. He stepped inside slowly, closing the door behind him. "I can see you didn't even wait for me to wake you up today. How are you feeling?” His tone was playful, but there was something about it that made my stomach knot. I blinked, trying to piece together reality. How am I doing today? How long have I spent in New York? I scrambled upright, drawing my knees to my chest while I stared at him intently. “What… What's going on? Why am I here?” Jackson’s grin widened. He ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair and tilted his head, observing me like I was a puzzle he’d been dying to solve. “You're joking right?” He said lightly. “Where else did you want to be? You're my wife, now. Or don't you remember?” I froze when he finished speaking, widening my eyes at him. Wife? What the hell does he mean by that? Suddenly, memories began to flash into my mind. Jackson and I dancing in a club, people cheering at us as he went on his knees, and the ring in his hand flashing in the neon light. Oh no. I buried my face in my hands. “I—no. This can’t be real. I was—this is insane.” Jackson moved closer, but I flinched back instinctively, ignoring the traitorous part of me that urged me to remain still, to let him close the distance between us. Jackson Labonair had always been dangerous in the quietest ways. He’d dated Pearl for nearly two years, charming her, dazzling her, then shattering her when he walked away without explanation. I’d watched from the sidelines, hating him for hurting her, hating myself more because some small, shameful corner of my heart had noticed him first. Noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. Noticed how he always asked how I was, even when no one else did. But he’d been hers. That made him untouchable, forbidden, and safe to want only in secret. But now this? What would people say? That I snatched Pearl's boyfriend? Pearl can even twist everything to make it seem like I'm the reason behind their breakup. Heaven knows I have no hands in this. I don't even know how I got here in the first place. “Elizabeth…” His voice softened, just enough to make my knees wobble. “You remember me, right?” I peeked through my fingers. “Yes, I remember you. My…my stepsister’s ex. Jackson Labonair. That’s who you are.” He smiled slowly. A slow confident smile that made my chest ache in ways I didn’t want to admit. “And now…you’re mine.” I recoiled, even as part of me stirred. “No! That’s…that’s impossible. We—we can’t—” He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “We already did it. Vegas, last night. You said yes. Don’t remember?” I furrowed my brows as my mind seized on the worst possible meaning. s*x. Did we…? The question screamed inside my skull. I glanced down at my dress again, but it was still zipped, still covering everything. No ache between my legs, no sticky aftermath, no evidence at all. But the fear remained, cold and vicious. If I’d let alcohol erase every boundary I’d spent years building, what kind of person did that make me? Pearl’s replacement in every way? The sister who stole what wasn’t hers? Regret surged through me so violently that I nearly gagged. I’d spent my life being invisible, being good, being careful. One night of recklessness and I’d ruined it all. "Here," Jackson said, drifting me off my thoughts. I turned to him sharply and found him flashing the ring on his ring finger at my face. Then he nodded toward mine, and I looked down slowly. There it was. A matching band on my ringer finger as well. Everything in me went still instantly as realization suddenly dawned on me. I had…married him? That's the moment the mystery of the night before became a dangerous puzzle. How had we gone from polite small talk at a corporate dinner to an event hall for marriage? Who suggested it? Who paid for the license? Did I sign with a sober mind or a drunken one? And most importantly, how the hell was I going to explain this to my family, my sister, or myself? Jackson took another step forward, his eyes flicking over me with a mixture of amusement. “Relax, wifey. You’re safe with me. I promise I won't hurt you." The words sent a shiver down my spine. But I knew Jackson better than to trust it. Safe? I wasn’t sure if I was—or if I’d ever be again.