MARRIED TO THE WRONG BROTHER

CHAPTER ONE ELENA'S POV “Someone get medics. Help.” My voice cracked, my hand stained with blood. I cried out again, my voice desperate. My hands shaking, I tried to apply pressure to her head. “Someone, please get medics.” The hall was in chaos, cameras were flashing, chairs were tumbled over. The stage I designed was split in half. Everything I worked hard for was disappearing in front of me. My assistant ran to me, her face streaked with tears. “Elena, come back here. The stage is not safe.” “Phoebe, get the medics, goddamn it.” She blinked her tears back, biting her lips. “Phoebe, what are you doing? I told you to get the medics.” “Elena... there are no standby medics.” “What? Phoebe, I...” “But I called an ambulance already.” “Phoebe, what the hell? I told you to make provisions for paramedics.” “Yeah. I... I...” I heard the distant siren of the ambulance. Gratefully, I stood up, trying to haul the model up. The journalists were ushered out of the room by the bouncers. The paramedics came running in with a stretcher. I sat in a daze, watching the stretcher carry her out. “Elena, we have to go.” Phoebe put her hand on my shoulder. Angrily, I pushed it off. “Don't tell me what to do.” “Elena...” “I told you to make arrangements for paramedics. Why were there no standby medics?” “Elena...” My teary voice rising. “How did the stage split in half? I told you to check the stage.” “I checked it, Elena.” She was sobbing now too. “I swear to God, Elena, I checked it.” “Ruined. It is all ruined.” “No, don't say that. Elena, we can fix it.” She tried to move closer to me. I raised my hands up, and she stopped midstep. “No, don't say that to me. Do you know who got crushed by that stage? Ciara Wilson. The f*****g Ciara Wilson. How do you think we can survive this s**t?” I angrily kicked off my heels, grabbing my hair. Phoebe stood, her small frame shaking. “We would think of something. We won't let this go without a fight.” Her voice cracked on “fight.” I turned to her, laughing in disbelief. “Fight? Phoebe, by tomorrow we would be drowned in f*****g lawsuits.” Her phone buzzed. She picked up the call. “Mr. Diaz.” I stopped pacing and froze. I signalled for her to pass the phone to me. She hesitated before passing it to me. His voice was filled with anger from the phone. “...I knew I shouldn't have invested in that cheap brand. Now all of my money is going down the drain.” I swallowed, trying to make my voice steady. “Mr. Diaz, we promise to fix this.” “Fix what? You stupid b***h. You crushed Ciara Wilson under a stage, and you believe you can fix it. What did I expect from the daughter of a f*****g maid?” Screaming, I hurled the phone across the room. I tried so hard to get out of that label, and now because of this accident, I would always be the maid's daughter. Absentmindedly, I walked out of the hall barefooted, my feet moving without my permission. Phoebe ran after me. “Elena.” As I stepped outside, the cold air hit me, so did the flashing of cameras. Reporters were everywhere, even more than I had invited. “Elena, were you trying to cut costs by not having standby paramedics?” “Elena, why did the stage collapse?” “Elena, this is your debut fashion line and show. How do you feel about your failure?” “Did you hire subpar stage technicians?” Then a hand slapped me hard out of nowhere. I staggered, the impact almost blinding me. My lips were bleeding from the impact. I looked up and saw Celine Wilson standing in front of me, her eyes blazing. “Elena Hayes, my daughter was crushed by your stage.” “Ma'am, I...” “You stupid, cheap nobody whose mother was knocked up by a f*****g lowlife dares to crush my daughter under a stage? Who allowed the daughter of a w***e to run a fashion brand?” She raised her hand. I closed my eyes, waiting for the slap. When it didn't come, I opened my eyes and saw Adrian Blackwood holding her hands and staring coldly into her eyes. Celine Wilson swallowed. She moved away, her eyes filled with fear. The reporters put down their cameras. No one dared to take pictures of Adrian Blackwood. Adrian swept a cold glance around, and the reporters started walking away. “Where are your shoes?” He finally spoke after the reporters left. “What are you doing here? To add salt to my injury? Are you happy seeing me like this?” His eyes darkened. He moved closer to me. His cologne drifted to me. “Stop being a brat and trying to anger me.” I scoffed. “Believe me, I have better things to do than annoy you.” I started walking away, my steps unbalanced. “I can help you.” I stopped walking and turned to him. “What?” “I can help you.” I looked at him with doubt. If anyone can help me, it is Adrian Blackwood, but Adrian doesn't help anyone for free. “So what's the catch?” “Marry me.” The word rang in my ears. I laughed in despair. “What did you say? I didn't quite catch that.” “Agree to marry me and I would help you.” My voice shaking with tears. “You really are a selfish bastard. I am facing a crisis here, and you are thinking of how to exploit me?” “Exploit? Elena, I know how hard you worked for LUMÈ, and I am the only one who can and is willing to help you. Think about it.” He said and walked away. I hugged my shaking frame, my tears falling unrestrained. Phoebe stood beside me, patting me. I pushed her hands off me, creating a distance between us. “Where is the car?” “Coming.” She swallowed, biting her fingers like she does whenever she is nervous. “You are not thinking about taking his offer, are you?” I didn't say anything. I stood rubbing my swollen cheeks. I saw the car driving towards me at full speed. Phoebe's voice rang through the cold night. “Elena.”