The bride's stand-In

I sank onto my worn-out bed, feeling the ache deep in my bones. After cleaning the mansion for the third time today alongside the other maids, I could hardly keep my eyes open. My stepmother, always ready to find another speck of dust, didn't seem to care that I, too, was Mr Dean Morgan's daughter. To her, I was only a maid's daughter—a reminder of the scandal she'd rather forget. My mother was once a maid here, but then she and my father crossed a line, and I was the result.When I was born, my mother threatened to go to the press. She was ready to bring the truth to the world if he didn't acknowledge me. So he took me in, reluctantly. But days later, my mother vanished, as if she'd never existed at all.Growing up here was anything but normal. I went to school, but even there, Diane and her friends made my life miserable. Diane, my beautiful, cruel half-sister with her long black hair, green eyes that sparkled with mischief, and a body that looked sculpted by an artist. She was set

The next morning, the mansion was nearly eerily silent. I woke up and moved through my usual routine with mechanical precision: a long, hot bath, the soft scent of lavender filling the air, before I dressed and settled in for a quiet breakfast. Of course, I ate it in my room; being the "mid-daughter" meant there was no place for me at the formal dining table anymore. I couldn't exactly join the staff in their quarters, either, and I certainly didn't belong with my family at the polished, pristine dining hall. Not that it mattered—no one was even there. The silence that wrapped around the house felt more oppressive than peaceful.Charles was long gone, his cars no longer parked in the driveway, and a strange sense of satisfaction swirled in my chest. Diane had locked herself away, undoubtedly brooding in her room, and my stepmother was likely doing the same—either fuming over her daughter's ruined plans or concocting a new scheme. My father's anger seemed to have burned itself out, and

After I signed the contract, my head was still boiling, wondering if I had just made the best decision of my life or the worst. I knew it had to be one of the two, and I could only hope it was the positive one.A knock came on my door. When I opened it, it was the same maid who had delivered the stack of files to me earlier. She said she'd been sent to collect the file and check if I'd signed it. I nodded and handed it over to her. She hesitated, studying me for a moment."Are you okay? Are you good, Evelyn?" she asked, her voice soft with concern.I forced a smile. "Yes, I'm good. No problem.""Why are you signing this? Is there something wrong?" she pressed.I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and gave it a light rub. "I'm fine, I promise. It's just… something."She seemed to understand more than I was willing to admit because, without another word, she pulled me into a hug. "It's all going to be fine," she said quietly.That was what I needed. I had no idea how much I needed

I stood at the altar, staring blankly ahead. My thoughts swirled like a carousel, repeating the same question: Did I just get married, or did I simply sign a piece of paper? Everything felt surreal, almost laughable in a cruel way.Then my father approached, his expression unreadable. "Get ready," he said firmly. "You'll be leaving with his people in the next ten minutes. Go grab anything you need or say your goodbyes."Goodbyes? The word echoed in my mind. Who would I even say goodbye to? Aside from the maids who had been my only solace growing up, there wasn't a soul in this house I would miss. My belongings? Just old rags and memories I'd rather leave behind.Still, in my heavy wedding gown, I made my way to my room with Eleanor and a few other maids helping me up the stairs. Their presence was comforting, like a tether to the world I was about to leave behind. Once inside, Eleanor lingered by the door, her eyes brimming with unshed tears."I can't believe you're leaving, Evelyn,"

I stood frozen, my feet rooted to the cold floor, as the man before me emanated a raw and untamed energy that made the air feel heavy. His presence was overwhelming—broad shoulders that seemed to carry the weight of worlds, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and eyes like two shards of ice, piercing straight through my soul. He was handsome in a way that felt dangerous, almost unearthly, and his every move radiated control.His hand came down hard on the rock-strewn table, the sound sharp and unyielding. "Where is Diane?" he demanded, his voice as cold and cutting as a winter storm.I opened my mouth, but no words came. Fear clawed at my throat, making it impossible to speak. His patience snapped, and his gaze darkened with fury."Will you talk?" he thundered, leaning closer. The intensity in his eyes was suffocating."I—I don't know," I stammered, the words tumbling out incoherently. "She...she ran away."He straightened, his expression hardening. "Diane ran away? Is that the best