Brother-In-Law's Replaced Bride

Roll

Irene Jones POV

It was a lie, and I knew it, because there was no version of reality where his finger pressed to my mouth wouldn't scare me. The leather was cold enough to sting, a chill slipping down my spine, but I refused to let that reaction show. Not to him. Not ever.

I'd grown up with this stupid reflex of hiding my tongue around the Jones family, but I never held it back with anyone else.

“You should be, Irene. You should.” His voice stayed low as the pressure of his finger increased, pushing against my bottom lip until it felt like one more ounce would split the skin.

My body wanted to move back, or flinch, or do anything except freeze—but it wouldn’t move. Move, damn it. It didn’t listen.

“You know what, just get your hand off me,” I breathed, heat flooding my cheeks even as my voice trembled with control. “About fear? I do feel…” I let the pause hang between us, and watched his eyes sharpen. “Disgust. Only disgust. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Disgust? Doesn't sound new to me." He pulled his finger away, and I just stared at his masked face. Everything was hidden, every line and flicker, yet something in me tightened in a way I hated. Why did it feel wrong?

I hadn't meant disgust in a cruel way. I'd meant it as a defense, a word thrown out because it was the only one that came fast enough. But sitting here now, it felt like I was the one who'd hurt him instead of the other way around.

After everything he'd said and done, I should have been the one carrying the hurt. "I'm sorry." The words slipped out anyway. I wasn't someone who took pleasure in hurting anyone, and something in the way he reacted made it feel like it landed harder than I meant it to. Harder than it should have, especially when he was already...limited in ways he couldn't hide.

Disability was never a joke, no matter who carried it—even if it was someone I hated.

“Sir, we’ve reached,” Albert announced.

I’d thought the partition meant they couldn’t hear us—that we couldn’t hear them. So how much had he heard?

“You don’t have to worry. Only we can hear them. They can’t hear us.” Theodore answered before I even breathed the question, as if he’d read every line on my face.

I looked around, and my eyes nearly bulged out. A mansion. An actual mansion. I’d been so caught up arguing that I hadn’t noticed when we drove in, but now everything looked massive and gleaming, even with the night settling over it.

The Jones family was rich, sure. They owned a good place. But a mansion like this—this big, this impossible—was completely out of the question.

No wonder Leo had been so desperate to marry his daughter into the Myers family. One look at this place and anyone could tell this family was too massive, too powerful to risk crossing.

And now the nerves finally hit, because I had literally fought with Theodore—the heir of this entire family.

“Don’t be so shocked. You’ve got an easy face to read.” Great. So that answered my doubt—he really could read every damn thought written across my expression.

Scary.

“If it was that easy, then how did you miss the part where I wasn’t in the mood to come here? I showed that with my actions too.” I wasn’t about to drop the sarcasm. I’d already dropped my home behind me.

Theodore snarled. "Keep your sarcasm to yourself. Now let's get outside."

"Sure." I bit the inside of my cheek, holding back the dozen things I wanted to throw at him.

The door slid open on its own, and I stepped down carefully, forcing my legs to steady even as a wave of nervousness crawled up my spine.

Albert helped Theodore out and settled him into the wheelchair. “Mrs. Myers, I believe you should help the young master with his wheelchair and take it inside.”

Huh? That confused me. Why should I be the one helping him? It’s not like I hated helping, but after everything, would he even be fine with it?

Theodore didn’t say anything, though, and his silence made it look like he was fine with it. “Oh… okay.” I tried not to fumble over my words.

“Thanks, madam, here… please handle it.” He smiled in that polished, professional way. I still didn’t understand how anyone could smile like that without letting even a trace of real feeling slip through.

Focus, Irene. I tried to drag myself back into the moment, but my thoughts scattered in every direction, loud and restless. I needed to get a grip before I walked into that mansion. Whatever waited for me there, I couldn’t face it while falling apart inside.

“No worries,” I replied, taking both sides of the wheelchair handles. “It’s my first time handling a wheelchair, so please guide me.” I meant it honestly, no point pretending otherwise.

“Albert, you can go now. I’m sure even though my wife is a replaced one, she isn’t dumb enough to not handle something like this.” He always managed to find a way to insult me, every sentence dipped in arrogance. My grip tightened around the handles before I could stop myself.

Albert bowed and left right away, almost relieved, as if he had been waiting for permission to escape the moment.

“Roll it, wife.” He sounded like he was joking, but the word wife hit me so hard my knees nearly went out. Something about the way he said it scraped across me in the worst possible way, like a bruise being pressed on purpose.

Without another word, I started pushing the wheelchair with careful, controlled movements. It was harder than I expected — me at five-five trying to push a six-foot man was nowhere near fair. I wasn’t small, but he was huge, and the weight difference alone, plus the chair, turned every step into a challenge.

“Irene, fasten up!”