"My billionaire husband"

Chapter 2:The Unveiling

Damien's fingers hooked under her veil.

Eliana couldn’t breathe. The chapel had gone dead silent. Two hundred guests, her father, the press in the back row—all watching the Vance heir about to expose the bride swap.

He’d ruin her. Ruin her family. The contract would be void, and the Browns would owe the Vance empire millions in penalties. Her sister’s sacrifice, her own humiliation—all for nothing.

His knuckles brushed her cheek. Cold. Like the rest of him.

“Don’t,” she whispered. It wasn’t a plea. It was a warning.

Damien’s gray eyes locked on hers through the lace. Something flickered there. Amusement? “You’re not scared, little Brown. You’re furious.”

The veil lifted.

A collective gasp tore through the chapel. Cameras flashed. Her father made a strangled noise in the front pew.

Because Eliana Brown didn’t look like her sister. Sophia was soft, blonde, delicate. Eliana had her mother’s sharp cheekbones, hair black as midnight, and eyes that burned instead of wept.

She was a scandal in white lace.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest stammered, clearly off-script.

Damien didn’t move. He studied her like she was a hostile takeover, assessing weaknesses, calculating cost. His thumb dragged across her bottom lip, smearing her lipstick. A claim. A brand.

“I don’t make deals with liars,” he said, voice low enough that only she heard. “But I do collect what’s owed.”

Then his mouth crashed onto hers.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a war. Teeth and tongue and punishment, in front of God and the tabloids. Eliana’s hands fisted in his tux, either to push him away or pull him closer—she didn’t know.

He tasted like whiskey and ruin.

When he finally pulled back, her lipstick was on his mouth, and his eyes were darker than before. “Smile for the cameras, wife. You’re a Vance now.”

Flash. Flash. Flash.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Rice. Cheers. Her father refusing to meet her eyes as they walked down the aisle. Sophia nowhere to be found.

The Vance limo was waiting outside, black and armored like a tank. Damien opened the door for her himself. No chauffeur. No witnesses.

“Get in.”

Eliana slid across the leather seat, wedding dress pooling around her like spilled milk. The door slammed. The privacy screen was already up.

Damien loosened his tie and stared at her. Really looked. No veil, no pretense.

“You switched places with her.” Not a question.

“I saved her,” Eliana shot back. “Sophia would’ve died in your world. You eat girls like her alive.”

His laugh was humorless. “And you think you’ll survive me?”

“I don’t plan to survive you, Vance. I plan to beat you.”

That got his attention. He leaned forward, caging her against the door with his arms, his face inches from hers. The limo started moving, but Eliana only felt trapped by him.

“The contract says you give me an heir,” he murmured, eyes dropping to her lips. “It doesn’t say I have to be gentle about it.”

Her pulse jumped, but she refused to flinch. “The contract also says ‘a Brown daughter.’ Nothing about love. Nothing about obedience. Nothing about me warming your bed on command.”

“Is that what you think this is? Command?” His hand slid up her bare thigh, under layers of silk, stopping just short of ruin. “Your body said something different when I kissed you, Eliana.”

She slapped him. Hard.

The sound cracked through the limo.

Damien went very still. A red mark bloomed on his cheek. For a second, Eliana thought she’d gone too far. That the rumors about the Vance heir’s temper were true.

Then he smiled. Slow. Dangerous. Real.

“Good,” he said. “I was worried I married a doll. At least this will be fun.”

He grabbed her wrist before she could slap him again, pinning it above her head. His other hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back, exposing her throat.

“Let me make something clear, wife. You walked into my cage. You wore my name. You took my kiss.” His lips brushed her ear. “You’re mine. And I don’t share.”

The limo hit a bump. Eliana used the momentum to knee him.

Damien caught her leg mid-air, eyes blazing. “Feral little thing, aren’t you?”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Never.” He released her suddenly, sitting back like nothing happened. He straightened his cuffs, smirk still in place. “We’re home.”

Home. The Vance Estate. A fortress on a hill with more security than the White House.

Eliana’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t just a marriage. It was a life sentence.

Damien opened his door and stepped out, then turned to offer her his hand. Mocking. Polite. A king helping his captive from the carriage.

Reporters were already at the gates, held back by guards. Tomorrow’s headline: VANCE HEIR WEDS WRONG BROWN SISTER.

Eliana ignored his hand and climbed out on her own. Her heels sank into gravel.

“Your room is at the end of the west wing,” Damien said, walking ahead without looking back. “Mine is across from it. Try to run and my men will drag you back. Try to poison me and I’ll make your family pay.”

She followed him up the stone steps, dress heavy, heart heavier. “And if I try to kill you in your sleep?”

He paused at the massive front doors. Looked over his shoulder.

“Then I’ll know you’re worth keeping.”

The doors swung open.

Eliana stepped into hell.