All Chapters of The Substitute Bride's Revenge : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The charity luncheon at the Metropolitan Museum of Art is exactly the kind of event I've come to dread. A gathering of the capital’s elite women, ostensibly raising money for arts education but primarily engaged in the subtle warfare of social positioning.Three months into my marriage, I've learned to navigate these waters with a smile that never quite reaches my eyes, making small talk about designers and vacation properties while the women around me assess every aspect of my appearance and background for weaknesses.Today's event is hosted by the museum's board of trustees, which includes Eleanor Harrington among its most influential members.I've been "invited" to attend via a terse note from Victoria, who continues to serve as Eleanor's proxy in managing my public appearances. The subtext is clear: show up, look appropriate, say little, and don't embarrass the family."Mrs. Harrington, how lovely to see you," greets the event chairwoman, an elegantly preserved woman in her sixties

ARIAI stand motionless."He finds strong, capable women, convinces them they're special, and then systematically dismantles their self-confidence." His words echo alongside Natalie's warning.I move to the window overlooking Tokyo's skyline as tears threaten.I blink them back, refusing to give in to the hurt and humiliation he's crafted to diminish me.Tonight was brutal because I accidentally challenged his control by showing I actually know what I'm talking about. His response was to attack not just my professional abilities but my appearance, my social standing, my very right to consider myself his equal.I stare out at Tokyo, a city that's survived centuries of disasters and I feel something hardening inside me—a resolve beyond the hurt and anger. Xavier might control our contract and have power over my circumstances, but he can't control my mind or spirit unless I let him.I won't let him!Natalie survived Xavier's systematic dismantling. She rebuilt herself stronger than before

Days flew by and turned to weeks.I’ve been pondering a lot about my life and how to change it.Today, I decide to do something daring.The Harrington Consolidated headquarters takes up thirty floors of a gleaming skyscraper in Midtown, with a lobby screaming "we're rich but tasteful" - rare marble floors and museum-quality art.I've only been here once since getting married.Today's visit? Totally different. Unscheduled. Unexpected."Mrs. Harrington," the receptionist says, clearly surprised when I step off the private elevator. "We weren't expecting you today.""I need to speak with my husband," I reply with practiced poise. "It's rather urgent."The receptionist hesitates. "Mr. Harrington is in meetings all afternoon. Maybe Mr. Chen could help you? He handles most of the family's personal matters."Five months ago, I might have accepted being pushed toward "personal matters" instead of business. Today, I smile."I'm afraid this requires Xavier directly. I'll wait in his office." Mic

ARIAMy consciousness swims to the surface from a deep sleep the next morning.Something's wrong. The mattress beneath me feels unusually firm, almost unyielding against my back, nothing like the plush comfort I'm accustomed to sinking into each night.There's also a strange pressure on my lower abdomen, something solid and warm pressing insistently against me.Confusion clouds my mind as I struggle to orient myself.My eyelids feel heavy, reluctant to open as if weighed down by invisible anchors. I force them apart slowly, blinking away the haze of sleep, expecting to see the familiar pattern of my bedroom ceiling.Instead, I find myself staring directly into a pair of eyes. Blue eyes. Cold, piercing blue eyes like shards of winter ice, watching me with an intensity that sends a jolt of adrenaline straight through my body.They're mere inches from my face, close enough that I can see the darker ring around his irises, the flecks of steel gray near the pupils.Xavier!"What the—!" The

ARIAThe nightmare incident stays with me in the days that follow.Xavier behaved as if nothing happened the next morning, discussing upcoming meetings with his usual precision. However, something fundamental has shifted. I've glimpsed the wounded man beneath the cold exterior, and I can't unsee it.Occasionally, I catch him watching me when he thinks I'm not looking, his expression thoughtful, perhaps wondering what I'm thinking about what I witnessed.I also find myself watching him more carefully, noticing the subtle signs of exhaustion that suggest it wasn't an isolated occurrence: the almost imperceptible shadows beneath his eyes, the extra cup of coffee he requires in the mornings, the way he occasionally loses focus during conversations with his mind clearly elsewhere.Xavier doesn't show up for the quarterly board meeting. His absence is like a black hole at the head of the conference table, drawing everyone's attention despite Timothee Cartoon’s attempts to proceed normally.H