His replaced bride

**Episode 5 — “The Shadow Between Us”**

*(Elara’s POV)*

I didn’t sleep that night.

Not because of the flashes outside the estate gates, or the constant ringing of phones, or the reporters shouting questions about my *“fairy-tale tragedy.”*

No. I couldn’t sleep because his voice wouldn’t leave my head.

> “Then it seems the Vance family owes me a bride.”

Those words had rewritten the story of my life.

The girl in the mirror this morning didn’t look like Elara Vance. She looked like a ghost wearing her skin — pale, exhausted, with eyes that carried too much and said too little.

Mother had spent the entire night making calls, smoothing stories, and pretending everything was under control. I’d heard her voice through the walls — brittle, desperate, furious. Fix it, Evelyn. Fix it like you always do.*

Only this time, she couldn’t.

Because the story was already out.

*Runaway bride. Replacement sister. Blackwood scandal.*

And somehow, I was at the center of it all.

When the door opened, I didn’t need to look up to know it was him. Adrian Blackwood didn’t enter the room. He claimed them.

“Miss Vance,” he said, voice low, precise. “We have a situation.”

I turned slowly, forcing my tone to stay calm. “We? Or you?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “At this point, they’re the same thing.”

He was dressed immaculately, of course — dark suit, which glinting like it had been built for control. But there was something in his eyes today, something less calculated.

“You don’t have to go through with this,” I said quietly.

“Yes,” he replied. “I do.”

He said it like it was a fact, not a feeling.

I took a step closer. “You’re really going to marry the wrong sister?”

He looked at me for a long time before answering. “There’s no such thing as the wrong one anymore.”

My chest tightened. “You don’t mean that.”

He did. I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands stayed perfectly still at his sides — like he was holding something in, something dangerous.

“I’m not Cassandra,” I whispered.

He nodded once. “I know.”

And for a second, I thought I saw it — the ghost of softness in his expression. Then it was gone, buried under steel.

> “The engagement announcement goes out at noon,” he said. “Try to look like you haven’t been crying.”

Before I could respond, he was gone.

Just like that.

The door closed, and I was left standing in a life that didn’t belong to me.

---

*(Adrian’s POV)*

It should’ve felt like victory.

The Vances were desperate to save their name. The press couldn’t stop talking. And Elara Vance — quiet, cautious Elara — was about to become mine.

Except I didn’t want her like this.

Not out of pity.

Not out of obligation.

Not because her sister ran.

But want didn’t matter anymore.

The Blackwoods didn’t bend for emotion. We dealt with the results. And this—this arrangement—was the cleanest way to control the chaos Cassandra left behind.

My father would have approved. That thought alone made me hate it more.

When I stepped outside, the reporters surged forward.

“Mr. Blackwood! Is it true you’re marrying Miss Elara Vance instead?”

“Did the first bride call it off or run away?”

“Was this an arranged switch?”

I ignored them. I’d learned long ago that silence had more power than any denial.

Inside the car, I finally let the mask slip for a moment. Her face kept flashing behind my eyes — that look she gave me when I said she was the only one left. It wasn’t fear. It was defiance.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I should’ve hated her.

Instead, I wanted to understand her.

Maybe that was worse.

---

*(Elara’s POV)*

By the afternoon, the house was a battlefield of whispers and flashbulbs. Every magazine had already picked their headline:

**THE REPLACED BRIDE.**

**BLACKWOOD'S SCANDALOUS UNION.**

**WHERE IS CASSANDRA VANCE?**

I’d stopped checking my phone. Every message felt like a wound.

When Adrian arrived that evening, he didn’t knock. He never did.

“You need to start preparing,” he said, setting up a folder on the desk. “There’s a press conference tomorrow. You’ll need to smile, say it was mutual, and convince the world you’re madly in love with me.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “That should be easy.”

His eyes flicked up. “You’ll manage.”

“And what about you?” I asked. “Can you even pretend to love someone?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His silence said everything — that love wasn’t something he pretended with anyone.

But then, he stepped closer. Too close.

“I don’t need to pretend,” he murmured. “I just need you to play your part.”

My heart stumbled. “And if I don’t?”

He leaned in, his voice dark as sin. “Then your family falls. And Cassandra stays missing forever.”

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. “That’s low, even for you.”

He smiled faintly. “You haven’t seen low yet.”

Something inside me snapped then — fear, anger, maybe both. “You think you can control everything,” I said, voice shaking. “But you can’t control me.”

He stepped back, gaze unreadable. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, he was gone again — leaving the air thick and trembling with something I didn’t have a name for.

---

*(Adrian’s POV)*

I told myself it was about power. That I wanted control.

But when I saw her walk into the press conference the next day — dressed in pale silk, hair trembling around her face, eyes steady despite the chaos — something inside me shifted.

She stood beside me like she belonged there. Like she wasn’t terrified, even though I knew she was.

When the cameras flashed and the world leaned forward to listen, she reached for my hand.

Not for show.

For grounding.

And for the first time in years, I felt something I didn’t recognize.

Not victory.

Not control.

Something dangerously close to *human.*

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