The Disabled Tycoon's Lethal Substitute Bride

Chapter 7

Word Count: 657 | Released on: 03/08/2026

Damien's chilling authority. Her date, Trevor, tugged

d after Eleonora toward the restro

in on her dress and stood before the mirror. From a hidden pocket in her e

cealed between her fingers

harged in, pointing a finger at Eleonor

f innocent fragility. "Jessica, I was just reminding

What consequences could you possibly bring me?" Jes

ok a seemingly panicked step back, her bo

n Eleonora's fingers pricked swiftly and precisely into a

ca only felt a slight sting, like a

"I know you're jealous, but Mr. Kemp chose me. That's a fact. I

us of you? That's hilarious! Just you wait.

ead, as if completely disappoin

walked over to the hand dryer, pr

gasped in horror. The red spots on her neck had multiplie

ut the more she scratched, the wors

e acupoint she had pricked would accelerate blood circulation, causing the

ntered the restroom. They saw Jessica cl

hispered to her companion. "Her mother, Cathe

d. "So graceful even when she's being bullied

t loud enough for both El

ut the unbearable itching consumed her. All sh

te nod. Then, as if nothing had ha

n the public's sympathy, and m

ped the used needle into a potted plant

ballroom, Damien was sp

when he saw her, hi

fted smile, tinged with a hint of vu

act. He simply pushed a gla

exactly had this woman done to

rupted from the other side of the ballroo

Chapter End

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The Disabled Tycoon's Lethal Substitute Bride

Tabbie Platt Romance

“I was the despised stepdaughter of the Rush family, treated like dirt under my stepmother's designer heels while secretly investigating my biological mother's suspicious death. One day, my stepmother slapped a marriage contract on my worn desk. I was to be sacrificed in my stepsister's place to marry Damien Kemp, a notoriously violent, wheelchair-bound heir who wasn't expected to live past thirty. "If you dare to resist, I'll leak the scandals about your dead mother to every media outlet." My stepsister filmed my misery for her followers, laughing as they threw a thrift-store reject at me to use as a wedding dress. They forced me to endure humiliating etiquette lessons just to mock my clumsiness, and even picked my bedroom lock to steal a precious herbal skin formula I had mixed, hoping to use it to shine at an upcoming high-society gala. In their eyes, I was just a pathetic, helpless puppet, destined to be buried alongside a dying invalid so they could secure a massive corporate investment. What they didn't know was that the formula they greedily stole was a carefully crafted trap that would soon destroy my stepsister's face. And when I finally met my "dying" billionaire husband, I didn't cower. Instead, I looked at his supposedly paralyzed legs, diagnosed the exact rare neurotoxin destroying his body, and offered him a thirty-million-dollar deal to tear all our enemies down.”