The Billionaire's Hidden Bride

"You are getting married tomorrow, Aria." Aria froze at the doorway, the grocery bags in her hands falls down. Apples rolled across the floor. Her mother didn't even look up from the couch. "Your sister does not want to marry him. You will take her place." My stomach dropped. "What?" "Damian Blackwood. The Blackwood Group. He paid twenty million dollars for a bride. Your father already signed." Twenty million. My family had sold my sister for twenty million. And now that she ran away, they were selling me. "Dad, you can't—" "Can't what?" My father finally stood up, his face red with drink. "Do you know how much we owe? So you have take your sister’s place, You are useless anyway! At least be useful once!" I backed away, tears burning my eyes. "Mom, please. I just got admission into college—" "You think college will pay our debt?" My mother laughed, but it was cold. "Aria, you are 21. You have never brought anything into this family. Your sister was smart enough to get a billionaire to want her. You should be grateful we are giving you this chance." Grateful. To be sold. "Does he... does he know I am not her?" I whispered. "No. And he will never know." My father grabbed my wrist hard. "Your name is Elena from tomorrow. You are Elena Hayes. You understand? The quiet, obedient, perfect daughter. Not Aria, the failure." Elena. My sister's name. Tomorrow I would cease to exist. The next day, I stood in a wedding dress that was not mine. It was too tight on my chest, too loose on my waist. It smelled like my sister's perfume - strong, expensive, everything I was not. The church was not a church. It was a private hall on the 88th floor of the Blackwood Tower. No guests. No flowers. No father to walk me down the aisle. Just a priest who wouldn't look at me, and two guards in black suits. And him. Damian Blackwood. I had seen him in Forbes. Coldest billionaire in New York. 29 years old. Never smiles. Never dates. The man who they said is ruthless and never tolerate nonsense from anybody, One word from him and he can take your company, ruin you and erase you entire existence. He was even taller in person. In a black suit, his back to me, looking out at the city as if I didn't exist. "She's here, Mr. Blackwood." He turned. And my breath stopped. He was beautiful like a knife is beautiful. Sharp jaw, cold grey eyes, lips pressed into a hard line. He looked at me - no, through me - like I was a contract he had to sign. "You're not Elena." My blood froze. "What?" My voice shook, my body felt stiff and the hair in my body stands. His eyes narrowed. He walked towards me, slow, dangerous. "Elena Hayes is 5'8. Has a mole under her left eye. And walks like she owns the world. You are 5'5. No mole. And you look like you want to run." He knew. He knew I was a fake. I wanted to fall to my knees. "I— I can explain—" "I don't care." He cut me off, his voice like ice. "Elena, Aria, whatever your name is. I need a wife for my grandfather's will. A hidden wife. I don't care which Hayes daughter it is, as long as she follows the rules." He pulled a black folder from the table and threw it at me. THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT. I opened it with trembling hands. Rule 1: The marriage will be secret. No public appearance. No media. No one must know Mrs. Blackwood exists. Rule 2: You will live in the penthouse. You will not leave without permission. Rule 3: You will not fall in love with me. Ever. At the bottom, in bold letters: BREAK ANY RULE, AND YOUR FAMILY PAYS BACK $20 MILLION WITH INTEREST. "Do you understand, Miss Hayes?" He leaned down, his face inches from mine. I could smell his cologne - cold, expensive, intoxicating. I nodded, tears falling onto the contract. "Good." He took my hand. His hand was warm, mine was ice cold. He slid a huge diamond ring onto my finger. It was heavy. Like a shackle. Then he looked at the priest. "Start." In five minutes, I was married. No kiss. No I love you. Just a signature. Mrs. Aria Blackwood. The hidden bride. Damian looked at his watch, already bored of me. "My driver will take you to the penthouse. I have a meeting in Tokyo. I will be back in a week." A week. I would be alone in a stranger's house for a week. He walked past me, but then stopped at the door. "Oh, and Aria?" He said my real name, making me shiver. "Don't try to run. You won't like what happens if you do." And then he was gone. I was left standing in a wedding dress that wasn't mine, in a marriage that wasn't real, with a ring that cost more than my life. What had I just done?