I was betrothed to the crown prince of the capital's elite circle. My half-sister—the illegitimate daughter who'd never been welcome in our home—burned green with envy.

The night before the wedding of the century, she drugged me unconscious. While she climbed into my bridal car, her people made off with my billion-dollar dowry.

Just like that, she swept into the grand estate and married into the most powerful family in the city—as me.

When I came to and raised hell, I had her dragged back in ropes.

I got my wish. I married into the Sanchez family.

One year later, my husband threw me into a beggar's den.

His eyes were savage, his voice cold enough to freeze blood.

"If I didn't still need your family's capital, the way you humiliated Rachel would've been enough to kill you ten thousand times over. Now that the Pruitts are bankrupt, you're worth less than a dog."

Rachel stood beside him, a soft laugh on her lips.

"Oh, dear sister. You humiliated me once—now you can atone for it right here in the gutter. Don't worry about the title of Mrs. Sanchez. I'm keeping the seat warm for you."

The shame was more than I could bear. I bit through my own tongue and died.

When my eyes opened again, it was the morning of my wedding day.

——

I crawled out of bed, waited a full hour for the fog in my skull to clear, then pressed a hand to my throbbing temple and pushed open the door.

My mother was just turning back down the hallway, leaning on a maid's arm. Tears of farewell still glistened at the corners of her eyes—tears she hadn't finished wiping away—when she looked up and saw me standing at the top of the stairs.

She froze.

My father's brow furrowed. He was the first to recover. "Fay Pruitt—why are you still here?"

He pointed toward the front entrance, voice rising in alarm. "Then who just got into the Sanchez bridal car?"

I clutched my chest, eyes wide with shock.

"What? Someone already took my place? Last night, Rachel said she couldn't bear to see me leave. She lit some calming incense for me—I took two breaths of it and slept straight through until now."

The festive clamor died in an instant. Every guest, every servant, every face in the room turned to one another in stunned silence, expressions shifting like cards being dealt.

My mother staggered, nearly fainting with rage. She immediately ordered the servants to seize Celia Lambert, who was already trying to slip through the crowd toward the door.

"So that's what it was," my mother spat. "I thought it was strange—during the send-off, you clutched the bride's hand and wouldn't let go, sobbing harder than I was, and I'm her own mother. I took you for something decent. Turns out that little beast in the car really is yours."

Celia dropped to her knees, eyes darting, stammering. "I—I don't understand what Madam is saying. Miss Fay overslept and missed the auspicious hour. How can you blame my Rachel for that?"

Before she finished, the butler rushed over. "Sir, Madam—the James family's wedding procession has arrived. They're waiting at the gate."

My mother's expression turned to ice. "Where is Rachel Pruitt? Find her. Bring her here. Now."

I lowered my head, hiding the cold smile in my eyes.

Where else would she be? In Rufus Sanchez's bed, of course.

When the marriage had been arranged, Rufus had insisted on a traditional ceremony—said he wanted to honor the old customs. He'd even hired an esteemed historian to personally oversee every detail.

The bride wore a red veil the entire time. Never once revealed her face.

By now, the bowing ceremony would be finished. They'd already been sent to the bridal chamber.

My gaze swept past Celia's mouth, where a tiny, barely concealed smirk twitched at the corner of her lips.

That confirmed it.

Mother and daughter—what a scheme they'd pulled.

Years ago, Celia had been our family's housekeeper. She'd drugged my father, crawled into his bed, and given birth to Rachel—then rode that secret all the way into a life of luxury.

Now Rachel had drugged me, stolen my identity, and married into the Sanchez family in my place. What was done was done. Rice already cooked.

That left me with exactly one option:

Pick up the marriage Rachel had discarded and wed into the James family.

The James family were newcomers—commercial upstarts who'd only risen to prominence in the last two years. They lacked the deep roots of old-money dynasties, but their momentum was ferocious. Every major emerging industry had their fingerprints on it.

The catch? The man at the helm was disabled.

My father had a sharp eye for opportunity. That was precisely why he'd matched Rachel with the James family.

If the James family thrived, Rachel would rise with the tide and live as a pampered trophy wife. If they faltered, the Pruitt family's ironclad backing meant she'd never suffer for it.

Yet she had no appreciation for our father's intentions. She'd pulled a bait-and-switch, shoving her own disgraceful marriage arrangement onto me.

If I'd gone along with it, by tonight the entire circle would know that the Pruitt family's legitimate daughter had married a cripple. The whole Pruitt name would become a laughingstock among high society.

In my previous life, that was exactly how she'd kept me crushed beneath her heel.

But with my parents backing me, I'd made a scene at the wedding. The Sanchez family still needed the Pruitts' support, so they'd forcibly dragged Rachel out of the bridal chamber. I got my wish—I became Mrs. Sanchez, and Rufus treated me like a treasure.

Back then, I had no idea that this man who seemed to pour his heart out for me had long since gotten Rachel pregnant in secret. The two of them had been working together from the inside, biding their time to destroy the Pruitt family once and for all.

A servant's startled cry yanked me from my thoughts. "Ma'am! Miss Rachel isn't in her room. Her wedding dress and veil are still here, but the dowry—it's all gone."

"And there's more. I found something in her room..."

My father picked it up and froze. Explicit photographs—Rachel and Rufus, together.

The color drained from his face, replaced by a mottled fury.

He hurled the photos straight at Celia's face.

"This is the fine daughter you raised! She's dragged the entire Pruitt name through the mud!"

The butler wrung his hands. "Sir, the James family's people are waiting outside. What should we do?"

My father's jaw was set like granite. His fist slammed against the table.

"Contact the Sanchez family immediately. Find that wretched girl and drag her back—quietly—then send her to the James estate. No illegitimate daughter is going to dictate a Pruitt family marriage!"

I tugged at my father's sleeve, pinched my thigh hard beneath my dress, and let the tears cascade down my cheeks.

"Dad, let it go. Rachel and Mr. Sanchez are clearly in love—they've already been to bed together. She even schemed to humiliate our family at the wedding. I won't marry a man like that. Let Rachel have him."

I dabbed at the corners of my eyes.

"The James family has been a long-standing partner of ours. In business, nothing matters more than keeping your word. I don't want you to break a promise on my account." I steadied my voice. "I'm willing to marry into the James family."

My father stared at me, stunned—then deeply moved.

"Fay, you're the legitimate daughter of the Pruitt family. In our entire circle, the Sanchez family was barely worthy of you. Marrying into the James family would be settling, and besides, Curt is still..."

He swallowed the rest. His eyes were full of heartache.

I smiled and finished the thought for him. "Dad, the James family was only ten spots behind the Sanchez family on last year's Forbes ranking. And think about it—the Sanchez family has had decades of head start. Curt may have a disability, but he's perfectly capable of having children, and he's a business genius. With me by his side and the Pruitt family's backing, who knows how far the James family could go?"

The contrast couldn't have been sharper: on one side, an illegitimate daughter who stole her sister's wedding for a taste of wealth. On the other, a legitimate heiress who kept her composure in crisis and volunteered to honor her family's commitment.

Night and day. The verdict was obvious.

The people in the room looked at me with newfound respect—and deeper sympathy for what I'd endured. Their contempt for Rachel's behavior was written across every face.

My mother's heart shattered. She pulled me into her arms and held on tight.

My father ground his teeth. "Even so, no one in the Sanchez family gets to humiliate a daughter of Charles Pruitt and walk away unscathed. Fay, you're right not to marry Rufus. But this insult—I will make them answer for it, no matter what it takes."

By the time we arrived at the Sanchez estate, the newlyweds had already been ushered into the bridal chamber, but the banquet was still in full swing—laughter, clinking glasses, the hum of celebration.

Then every head turned as we stormed through the doors.

The room went dead silent.

"Isn't that Fay Pruitt? She's supposed to be today's bride—what is she doing here?"

"Wait—the bride was sent to the bridal chamber half an hour ago. If that wasn't her... then who's in there?"

My mother let out a cold laugh.

"My apologies for the spectacle, everyone. The woman you just saw is indeed a daughter of the Pruitt family—an illegitimate one, who stooped low enough to steal her own sister's wedding."

The banquet hall erupted. Gasps rippled through the crowd, every head turning.

Rufus burst in from outside, his face dark as a thundercloud, cutting in sharply.

"Fay, enough. How can you blame Rachel for this? You two have similar builds, and the veils were identical. If anything, blame yourself for oversleeping and missing the auspicious hour. I simply brought the wrong bride."

"I'd been drinking. I mistook Rachel for you, and we've already consummated the marriage. As a man, I have to take responsibility for her."

"You're here making a scene because you want to switch back, aren't you? I know you're devoted to me—that you can't live without me. So here's what I propose: I'll register my marriage with Rachel, but I'll only choose my heir from the children you bear me. You won't have the title, but the entire Sanchez estate will belong to our children. That way, the partnership between our families stays intact."

When absurdity reaches its peak, all you can do is laugh.

He wanted to marry the illegitimate daughter while I watched—

And then have me play mistress, with my children branded as bastards?

The Sanchez family was barely clinging to relevance. Without the arranged engagement from the older generation—without the Pruitts propping them up—they'd have been swept out of elite circles years ago.

And yet this man had the gall to dream of having two women serve one husband, all while leeching off the Pruitt family's resources?

My father laughed—the kind of laugh that came from fury pushed past its limit.

"The Sanchez family certainly has nerve. A few comfortable years and you've already forgotten what it felt like to teeter on the edge of bankruptcy? Well, if that's the case, I don't mind refreshing your memory."

Rebecca Sanchez finally grasped what was happening and rushed forward. "In-law, what on earth is going on?"

My mother pulled a thick stack of photographs from her bag and slapped them onto the table.

"What do you think, Mrs. Sanchez? If your precious son wanted the illegitimate daughter so badly, why put on this whole charade just to humiliate mine? A shameless girl like that—the Pruitt family wants nothing to do with her. My husband will terminate all joint ventures the moment we get home. Consider the ties between the Sanchez and Pruitt families severed."

Without Pruitt capital, the Sanchez empire was nothing but a hollow shell drowning in debt.

Rebecca clutched her chest, her face draining of color in an instant. She rounded on Rufus, voice shaking.

"Tell me—what have you done?"

Before Rufus could answer, Rachel came running out in a crimson silk robe.

She dropped to her knees in front of me with a dramatic thud, tears streaming down her face like rain on pear blossoms.

"Sister, this is all my fault. I couldn't control my feelings—I made a terrible mistake. But Rufus and I are already married. If you keep making a scene, you'll only drag the Pruitt name through the mud. Even if you don't care about me, don't you care about our family's reputation?"

She repackaged her own depravity as uncontrollable passion. She reframed my demand for justice as reckless disregard for the family name.

Truly shameless beyond measure.

I let out a cold laugh. "So let me get this straight. You drugged me, stole my wedding, climbed into my marriage bed—and when I simply ask about it, I'm the one disgracing the Pruitt name?"

I raised my voice deliberately, laying every sordid detail bare for the room to hear.

"If you really liked Mr. Sanchez, why didn't you say so sooner? It's not as if he was the only man in the world to me. But no—you had to wait until the wedding day to pull this vile stunt. So tell me, who exactly ground the Pruitt family's reputation into the dirt? Or is it that you never cared about this family at all—you just wanted to take what was mine?"

Rachel's face went white. Her eyes darted, unable to hold my gaze. "I—I didn't—I just genuinely liked Mr. Sanchez."

Every guest at this banquet was a seasoned player. Her petty scheming was transparent as glass.

"Stooping to the lowest tricks, then hiding behind 'true feelings.' An illegitimate daughter—does she really think she's worthy?"

"If that were my daughter, I'd drag her home and beat her senseless. A woman who'd steal her own sister's husband—give her time, and she'll destroy the whole family."