His Brother's Bride

People envy the kind of life I have. The life that looks perfect in photographs and headlines. Heiress to the Valenci fortune, daughter of one of the most powerful business moguls in the country. Groomed from birth to wear luxury like a second skin, speak three languages fluently, and smile even when I want to scream. But if I've learned anything, it's that gold bars still make a prison.

My satin robe slides off my shoulders as I sit on the edge of the four-poster bed in my suite-a room too beautiful to feel so suffocating. Everything in this house sparkles. Crystal chandeliers, hand-carved furniture, imported rugs. I live in a palace, but I haven't felt at home in years.

My wedding is in ten days. Ten days.

I press my fingertips to my temples and try to breathe past the growing pressure in my chest. My engagement ring glints mockingly under the soft light-an enormous diamond picked not for love, but for legacy. Damien Delacroix, my soon-to-be husband is handsome, brilliant, and entirely wrong for me.

He's my father's business partner, a match made not in heaven but in a boardroom.

I didn't get to say yes, I was told.

"You'll be the queen beside a king, Selena," my father had said with a rare, proud smile. "Together, you'll be unstoppable."

What he meant was; our companies will merge, our reputations will strengthen. And I-his obedient, polished daughter-will fall in line, as I always have.

I've done everything right; attended the right schools, thrown the right parties, dated discreetly, never rebelliously. I've been the perfect daughter of privilege. And I've never felt more like a stranger in my own skin.

My mother tapped at the door earlier with a tray of bridal magazines and a list of seamstress appointments. Her smile was painted on, stretched a little too tight-like she knew how this would end but didn't dare speak it aloud. She was once like me and she surrendered.

I stared at the garden through the massive floor-to-ceiling window. From here, the grounds look serene, orderly and beautiful just like me. But beauty can be a burden and order can be a curse.

What would it feel like to choose something-anything -just because I wanted it? Not because it was expected, or it would benefit the family, not even because it had been planned for me before I even had the words to protest.

Would the world fall apart if I said no?

A soft knock at the door breaks my spiral. Marlene, my personal maid, peeks in.

"Miss Selena? Your mother's downstairs. The wedding planner's arrived early."

Of course she has. Another day of color palettes and flower arrangements for a marriage I don't want.

"I'll be down in a few," I say, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.

Marlene hesitates, then nods. "You look beautiful, by the way."

I don't. I look hollow, like a doll in a dress I didn't choose.

As the door clicks shut again, I stare at my reflection in the mirror across the room. Long, dark hair cascading in soft waves. Skin flawless, eyes lined just enough to highlight their almond shape. Every inch of me looks carefully curated but my eyes betray me. They always do.

I don't see excitement there. I see fear and doubt. A flicker of defiance I've tried so hard to extinguish.

I reach up and slide the engagement ring off my finger. It's cold and heavy, it feels like shackles.

Suddenly, I can't breathe. I rise from the bed like something in me has snapped. I don't know where I'm going or what I'll do, but I know I can't keep going like this. Ten days until I say vows that would chain me to a life I didn't choose. Ten days to make a decision, or make a run for it.

I take a step toward the window. I want to jump and fly. I want to escape this golden, gilded cage that's been my world for far too long.

For once, I want to choose recklessly. Live impulsively, just to know what it feels like to be alive instead of merely existing.

I don't want to be perfect anymore, I just want to be free.

But the truth is; I'm drowning in silk and suffocating in privileges, and no one even notices I'm gasping for air.

Tonight, I'm finally ready to disappear

*****

(Luca's POV)

People assume I sleep like a baby because a man with no conscience should have no trouble resting. But they don't know that most nights, I stare at the ceiling for hours, drowning in silence too loud to ignore.

I sat at the edge of my hotel bed, bare-chested, with a half-empty glass of whiskey resting loosely in my hand. Another faceless night in another overpriced suite. The city skyline glitters outside the floor-to-ceiling windows like a thousand lies wrapped in gold. Beautiful, shallow and deceptive, just like the people I deal with every day.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, but I don't pick it up. I already know who it is.

Damien.

My dear brother.

I haven't spoken to him in two years, and yet the bastard still tries to reel me back in every few months. With charm, threats or guilt. He's always been the golden one, the face of the Delacroix empire. I was just the shadow, the mistake in a tailored suit. I used to love him until I found him in bed with the woman I was going to marry.

I remember the taste of betrayal like it happened yesterday. The way the air left my lungs, rage that burned through me like acid. The moment I learned that blood doesn't guarantee loyalty.

After that, I walked away from everything. The family, the company, the name. I built something of my own-offshore investments, discreet acquisitions, tech startups nobody associates with the Delacroix dynasty. I made my own empire, one that didn't need Damien's shadow to grow. But even success doesn't quiet the storm inside me.

I take a slow sip of the whiskey. It burned all the way down, but it's nothing compared to what I feel when I let myself think.

I tell myself I'm over it. That I don't care anymore, that revenge isn't something I want. But the truth is, I want him to hurt. I want him to feel what I felt-that hollow, shattered ache of knowing you were nothing more than a game to someone you loved. I want him to lose everything that makes him feel untouchable.

I leaned back and let my head rest against the cool leather of the headboard. The room is still, the kind of stillness that makes your demons whisper louder.

Sometimes, I wonder what I'd be like if that moment hadn't broken me. If I'd married Isabelle and stayed in the family business. If Damien hadn't ripped something vital out of me that day.

Would I be better?

Or just softer-easier to destroy?

I laugh bitterly and run a hand through my hair. No. That version of me doesn't exist anymore.

Now I'm the man women flirt with for one night and never see again. The man with cold eyes and a colder heart. The one they say is dangerous but charming, broken but magnetic.

It's easier this way. No strings, no lies, no vulnerability.

My phone buzzes again. I ignore it, but a message pops up.

Damien: Thought you'd at least congratulate me. I'm getting married to Selena Valenci. Big day soon.

My jaw tightens. Of course, he is. The Valenci family is practically royalty in our circle, and my brother loves the throne.

I don't respond. What would I say? Congratulations on another strategic acquisition? Hope she doesn't catch you in someone else's bed?

I toss the phone across the bed and exhale slowly, trying to shake the tension curling in my chest.

The name "Selena" sticks with me, though. There's something in the way he phrased it-like he's showing off a trophy. Another win, another perfect, packaged life moment to parade around.

But women like that... I've seen them. Polished, controlled, bred for social dominance. They smile with their lips, not their eyes. They're taught to suppress what they feel so they can carry what their fathers expect.

Maybe she's in love, or maybe she's just another pawn on Damien's board. Either way, she doesn't know what she's getting into.

I rise and cross to the window, looking down at the city that raised me and razed me all at once. Somewhere out there, Damien is planning his perfect wedding. Somewhere out there, he's playing the hero in another story.

And me?

I'm still trying to rewrite mine.

My lips curl into a bitter smile as I down the rest of my whiskey.

I'm not the villain.

I'm the consequence.

Damien is about to find out what it feels like to lose everything, just like he made me lose her.