After more than thirty hours of delays and travel, Aria felt ready to collapse. At twenty-eight, she had finished her neurology residency in New York and gone to Cambridge for a research fellowship with Professor Smith. She had planned to stay for an additional research year, but her father had insisted she come home for a wedding. Her aunt was marrying the head of the Collins Group—a man whose ruthlessness was legendary in New York. No woman in her right mind would want to marry him.

So why was the Collins-Turner marriage suddenly back on the table after it had been called off ages ago? Confused, Aria walked into the house—only to be greeted warmly by her father and aunt.

“Aria, you must be exhausted,” Fiona said, smiling as she steered her toward the couch.

“Congratulations on the wedding, Fiona.” Aria tried to hide her contempt for her aunt—the same aunt who was always talking her father into shady business deals or hitting him up for money.

“Congratulations to me? You’re the bride, not me,” Fiona replied, plucking a thick folder of wedding paperwork from the coffee table and handing it to Aria.

Inside was an unsigned marriage-license worksheet bearing Aria’s name, a copy of Silas Collins’s ID, and a proposed financial settlement between the families. Someone had supplied her personal information without asking. Aria snatched the folder from Fiona and examined it. None of this made them married. They would both have to apply for a license themselves, and there would have to be a ceremony.

“Dad, what is this?” Aria asked, disappointment flooding her eyes.

Victor, her father, didn’t even flinch. “The Collins financing will save the company. Fiona backed out, so you’ll take her place.”

“That’s not what I asked. If Silas Collins is marrying into this family, why am I the bride instead of Fiona?” Tears welled in Aria’s eyes. The betrayal hit her like a physical blow.

She knew her father was putty in Fiona’s hands, but this was Aria’s marriage they were talking about.

Fiona gave her a dismissive look. “We’re both Turners. I’m only three years older than you. Does it really matter which one of us marries him?”

“The Collins family agreed to marry you, not me. Aren’t you worried about the fallout from a lie like this?”

A sharp slap cracked across Aria’s face.

“How dare you talk back to your aunt like that, you insolent girl? Is this how you treat your own family?” her father snapped, his anger barely contained.

“How can you call yourself family when you’re deceiving your own niece?” Aria shot back, pointing at Fiona. “You wouldn’t marry him yourself, but you expect me to? I’m your daughter!”

Aria stared at her father in disbelief. For the sake of money and connections, he was willing to sacrifice his own daughter.

“Do you even remember that you’re my daughter? Do you know everything Fiona has done for this family lately? What about you and your mother? All you two do is drain resources!” Victor shot back.

Marrying off his sister and marrying off his daughter were two very different things. If Aria married into the Collins family, he’d become the father-in-law of a powerful man—and the Turners’ status would rise with it.

He had worked too hard to forge this connection with Silas, all to climb the social ladder. And now his ungrateful daughter was digging in her heels.

Fiona’s eyes met her brother’s, and she softened her voice. “Aria, don’t blame your father. The Collins assistant has already prepared the appointments and financial papers.”

“An assistant from the Collins family couldn’t make a mistake like that unless someone gave them my documents and told them to use my name instead of yours. Try a better lie,” Aria shot back. Her mind was on her mother, who needed treatment. She had no time for this charade.

“I won’t go through with this wedding. Fiona, cancel the appointments and return my documents. Silas Collins is not someone you want to mess with,” she warned before heading upstairs.

But as she reached the stairs, a chilling voice stopped her cold.

“Aria, don’t you want to see your mother again?” Fiona’s voice cut through the air. Aria spun around, her heart seized with fear. The smug look on Fiona’s face made her blood run cold.

A sickening premonition washed over her. Aria dashed to her mother’s room and found it empty. Her mother was gone.

Six years ago, her mother had been in a car accident and fallen into a coma. Countless doctors had consulted on her case, but nothing had helped. Aria had already been in medical school. After the accident, she had dedicated her training and research to disorders of consciousness, determined to give her mother every possible chance.

Now she was home, and her mother was missing. There was no question who was behind it.

Aria stormed downstairs and grabbed Fiona by the collar. “What did you do with my mother? If anything happens to her, I swear I won’t hold back!”

In that moment, Aria looked like a lioness protecting her cub, her eyes blazing with fury.

“Ah! Victor, help me! She’s lost her mind,” Fiona shrieked, stunned by Aria’s strength.

Victor struggled to pry Aria’s hands off his sister and shoved Aria onto the couch. “You’ve crossed the line!”

Aria lay on the couch, dizzy and disheveled, her hair falling across her face. She looked at the two siblings, and the depth of their betrayal chilled her to the bone.

Fiona smoothed down her clothes and dropped the act. “No one can get a court to make you marry him. But the company is days from default, and your father controls the money paying for your mother’s private care. Walk away, and see how long he keeps paying. You can challenge him, of course. How quickly can you get a lawyer?” The threat was ugly precisely because Aria knew it was coercion. She needed her mother’s location before she could risk an open fight.

With that, Fiona walked to the door and flung it open. “Go ahead,” she dared.

Staring at the open door, Aria felt her heart plummet into an abyss. Tears streamed down her porcelain cheeks as she turned to her father.

“Where is my mother?”

“She’s fine. Marry Silas, and you’ll see her,” Victor replied coldly.

Seeing Aria hesitate, Fiona softened her tone. “I won’t hold it against you for attacking me earlier. Just do as you’re told, and I’ll make sure you see your mother.”

She pulled out her phone and showed Aria a surveillance video. “See? All the equipment is intact. She’s fine.”

The video showed Aria’s mother lying peacefully in a hospital bed. The room looked like a private care unit, though its location was impossible to tell.

“Of course, if you really don’t want to go through with it, there’s nothing I can do. But when the Turner family crumbles, your mother will be the first to suffer.” Fiona’s indifference was plain as day.

The realization hit Aria with full force. This had been Fiona’s plan all along. She’d always known Fiona was unscrupulous and had never warmed to her, but Victor’s betrayal hurt the most.

Her gaze fell on the unsigned application again, blurred by tears. After a long silence, she spoke, her lips trembling.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Fiona beamed. “See, Victor? I told you Aria was the sensible one.”

“But I have conditions. If a month passes and I still haven’t seen my mother, I’ll expose everything. And don’t blame me when I take the whole Turner family down with me.”

She kept the folder. The unfamiliar care facility, the threats, the papers—she would need a record of all of it. Her agreement bought her time; it did not make what they were doing right.

The next morning, she and Silas appeared at the City Clerk’s office with their own identification. He knew her legal name was Aria Turner. He also knew she was replacing Fiona; Seth had told him the substitution was a business arrangement Aria herself wanted. He barely looked at her as the clerk checked their documents.

More than twenty-four hours later, they returned for the brief civil ceremony with Sam Rogers as their witness. Aria spoke for herself and signed her own name. She kept her mother’s situation from the officials, terrified of what Victor might do before she could find her. The ink dried beside her name. Aria Turner, now married to a man who barely looked at her. She had traded the future she wanted for a chance to reach her mother, and the people who had forced the bargain were calling it a wedding.

They left separately. Silas had a meeting; Fiona insisted Aria return to the Turner house to change before joining him at the estate that evening. On the courthouse steps, Aria pressed her thumb against the unfamiliar ring. She would find her mother. She would get them both out. This marriage would not be her tomb.

Back at the Turner house that evening, Aria could barely swallow a mouthful of food. She carried her suitcase upstairs and shut her bedroom door. The civil ceremony was over; now Fiona wanted to dress her for the move to the Collins estate, as if presentation could turn coercion into a celebration.

On her nightstand sat a photo of her and her mother, both beaming like the world hadn’t touched them. Aria was in a navy uniform; her mother wore a casual white outfit, their heads leaning lovingly together. Aria wiped away her tears, then tucked the photo into her bag, knowing full well that once she set foot on the Collins estate, coming back might not be so easy.

While she waited for the car to the Collins estate, a member of staff brought her an evening coffee. She drank it—then paused. Something was off about the taste. Still, she brushed it off and soon drifted off to sleep.

She woke sometime later, disoriented, her whole body burning—hot and unbearably itchy all at once. “So hot... so hot,” she mumbled, her hands searching frantically for relief. Then she felt something cool and soothing, and instinctively leaned into it.

A tall man stood over her, staring down at the hand gripping his belt buckle. His expression was ice.

This was the wife Seth had told him was eager for the arrangement? A woman who’d stoop to such cheap tricks to seduce a man? Disgust curled through him. He bent down, scooped her up, and strode outside.

Inside the mansion, everyone froze. “Look—the second Collins son is carrying a woman!” “Could he actually be accepting her?”

But Silas Collins carried her into the garden and dumped her aside without ceremony, as if she were trash.

“If anyone brings her back inside, they’re out of the Collins estate!” he barked, his imposing frame disappearing back into the mansion.

The first week of October had brought a sharp cold snap to New York. Wind slid through Aria’s thin gown, cooling the fever in her skin just enough to clear her head. She forced herself upright in the unfamiliar garden. She remembered the brief ceremony that afternoon, and Fiona insisting on a different dress for her arrival at the estate. Then the coffee. After that, nothing. How had she ended up outside?

Then the burning sensation slammed back into her, and realization hit. Oh, Fiona, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. Was this supposed to be her marriage into the Collins family? Tossed aside like luggage and caught in some deceitful scheme?

Trembling, she climbed out of the flowerbed, shivering so hard her teeth chattered. She hugged herself and knocked on the villa door. No answer. “Hello? Is anyone there? Please!”

The seconds stretched into eternity. Just as she was about to pass out from the cold, a tall figure finally appeared. She looked up, trying to focus on his face, but her vision swam.

Half-conscious, she felt herself wrapped in a warm embrace—so comforting that it pulled her back under.

When she finally woke, sunlight flooded the room. Aria felt weak, her whole body aching. “You had a fever last night,” a deep, soothing voice said beside her. She turned. A man in a black wool coat sat in a chair—thirties, striking features, eyes that radiated warmth.

Silas was only twenty-five, so this man didn’t add up. Aria sat up quickly. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she said, embarrassment coloring her voice.

The man introduced himself as Seth Collins and gently eased her back down, his voice soft with concern. “You had quite a fever last night. Rest a little longer.” He sighed. “Silas can be terribly heartless. If he didn’t want you, he should’ve refused outright. How could he just leave you out in the garden like that?”

Aria’s heart sank. The man who’d tossed her into the flowerbed was really her husband, Silas Collins. Just as the rumors said—cold-hearted and cruel.

She couldn’t believe her father had led her into this mess for the sake of her aunt. Sensing her distress, Seth stepped closer and brushed her forehead with gentle fingers. “In the future, steer clear of him. Silas has a temper.”

Uncomfortable with his touch, Aria pulled back. No matter the circumstances, she was his sister-in-law now, and boundaries mattered. “I... I will.”

Seth’s hand hung in the air, unbothered, though a flicker of pity crossed his eyes. “There was a woman once chosen to be his fiancée. She accidentally touched his things, and he pushed her down the stairs.”

Aria gripped the bedspread, her palms damp with sweat. “And another time, a woman was invited over for dinner. He mistook her for a potential match and poured hot coffee over her head. Left burns all over her face.”

Horrified, Aria sprang from the bed. “Mr. Collins, can... can I go home?”

Seth smiled warmly and gently tousled her hair. “Don’t worry. If you ever need anything, come to me. He still has some respect for me as his older brother.”

Aria lifted her chin, determination hardening her voice. “No. I’m not staying married to him.”

A sudden chill swept through the room. Aria turned—and there he was, a figure in the doorway. His shirt hung casually open at the collar, top buttons undone, exposing sun-kissed skin and a shadow of stubble along a sharp jawline. Mid-twenties, maybe, but there was a rugged charm to his hard features. It was his icy eyes, though, that sent a shiver through her.

There he was—her legal husband, Silas Collins. “Silas, I thought you were at work?” Seth stood, grinning like a brother indulging a wayward sibling.

For a fleeting moment, Aria wondered whether her life would have been different if she had married Seth instead. Then Silas moved toward her, each step echoing through the room, his intense gaze locked on her. “You want a divorce?”

His voice was low, menacing. Aria instinctively backed away, her small frame dwarfed by his presence. “I... I...”

“Speak up!” Silas’s voice turned colder, his eyes sharp enough to cut through her.

Seth shifted slightly, shielding Aria. “Silas, don’t scare her.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much for damsels in distress. If you’re so concerned, stop speaking for her,” Silas shot back.

“Silas, watch your tone. You’re upsetting her,” Seth warned, clearly uneasy with his brother’s tone.

“Am I?” Silas’s half-lidded gaze bore into Aria, sending a chill down her spine. The tension between the brothers was unmistakable.

Something was clearly tense between Silas and Seth. But Silas’s words suggested something improper had happened between Aria and Seth overnight. Why should she be blamed for something she hadn’t caused?

Summoning courage from somewhere deep inside her, Aria stepped forward and met his scrutinizing stare. “If you hadn’t thrown me out, you’d be finding my body today!”

To her surprise, a faint smile flickered across Silas’s lips. His words stayed sharp as ice. “The Collins estate isn’t short of space for your grave.”

In that moment, Aria felt like Silas was a walking menace. No, she told herself. She wasn’t about to let him cast a shadow over her whole life. Pulling up courage she didn’t know she had, she clenched her fists and met his stare dead-on. “Silas, can we talk?”

“I’ll be right outside. Call me if you need anything.” Seth shot Aria a worried look, then slipped out of the room.

The room went cold as Silas stared straight ahead, his voice like ice. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Aria drew a breath, lifted her chin, and let her determination show plain on her face. “You don’t like me, and I don’t have feelings for you. This marriage was a mistake. Can we—”

Before she could finish, a servant hurried in holding out a phone. “Sir, it’s for Miss Aria.”

Aria glanced at Silas. His face gave her nothing. She took the phone and stepped aside. “Hello?”

Her aunt’s voice rushed through the line. “Aria, don’t blame me. I was worried. I had to take precautions. But rest assured—as long as you stay with the Collins family, I’ll make sure your mother is taken care of. If not…”

“What are you planning?” Aria’s voice dropped low. She gripped the phone so hard her knuckles went white.

“If anything happens to your mother, I can’t make any promises.”

“You…” Fury roared through Aria. It took everything in her not to scream down the line.

She forced herself back together and pressed on. “Where is my mother? I need to see her, or I won’t believe you. I’m willing to risk everything if I have to!”

“Look at your screen.”

Aria saw a live video feed of her mother. Her aunt even angled the timestamp into view to prove it was current.

After years of studying medicine, hoping to cure her mother, Aria knew her mother was her one weakness. She swallowed back the tears burning her eyes and finally whispered, trembling, “Fine…”

She ended the call, blinked the tears away, and turned back. She expected Silas to be gone. He was still there, unmoved.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, leaving her speechless.

She’d planned to talk about ending this—whatever this was between them—but the call had drained every last bit of urgency out of her. “Nothing.”

She looked down at the mud dried along the hem of her gown. She had spent the night feverish in someone else’s house, and no one had thought to bring her suitcase upstairs. The dress felt less like wedding clothes than evidence of what they had done to her.

Silas’s gaze cut through her, assessing her from head to toe. He had heard vicious rumors about Fiona’s school years and let them color his view of her whole family. Looking at Aria now, he reached for the same easy contempt instead of asking what had actually happened to her. It was a cruel assumption, and one he would regret.

“Filthy.”

“Filthy? What’s filthy?” Aria looked down and saw the soiled hem. His fault. Hadn’t he been the one who threw her into the flowerbed? She didn’t even have a change of clothes.

Before she could speak, Silas slammed the door shut with a bang. His cold voice echoed from the hallway. “Have housekeeping clean this room!”

So this was Silas’s room. No wonder it felt dark and suffocating—just like him.

“Miss Aria, your room is this way. Please follow me.” A maid led her to the room next to Silas’s.

Aria was relieved not to share a room with him. The maid opened the guest wardrobe and took out a sealed set of cotton loungewear, then laid a soft bathrobe on the bed. “These should fit while I have your luggage brought up,” she said. “I’ll send the gown to be cleaned.” Aria thanked her, showered, and changed into a plain white shirt and loose cotton trousers. Dry fabric against clean skin steadied her. Whatever this family expected, she did not have to face them in last night’s mud.

Downstairs, a commotion stirred. Then a maid knocked on her door. “Miss Aria, Mr. Collins has returned from the care facility. He wishes to see you.”

Mr. Collins? That would be Jericho Collins, father of the Collins brothers.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, Aria hurried downstairs. An older man in his sixties sat on the couch. Beside him was a regal-looking woman in her forties, dripping in opulent emerald jewelry. That was Silas’s mother, Eloise Collins.

Eloise was more than twenty years younger than Jericho. Rumor had it she’d gone to great lengths to marry him after his first wife died—a formidable woman, to say the least. The look she gave Aria was anything but friendly.

Seth and Silas sat on either side of their parents. The senior Collins had a commanding presence—sharp eyes beneath gray hair—but when he looked at Aria, there was warmth there.

“Aria, come sit. We’re all family here. No need to stand on ceremony.”

Aria wasn’t used to the name but did as she was told. “Thank you, Mr. Collins.” She picked the seat farthest from the family.

Eloise snorted. “What good is a girl who’s sold herself? My poor son deserves better.”

Jericho frowned at her.

“Am I wrong? The Turners are taking advantage of your soft heart to force this marriage pact now. Sending their daughter over without even a proper wedding—shameless!”

“Enough!” Jericho snapped. Eloise shut her mouth, but her eyes still bored into Aria with open disdain.

Aria flinched, her hand curling into a fist. Her aunt’s actions really were shameless.

Jericho’s gaze softened. “You can call me Dad when you’re ready. I had hoped to plan a celebration for you both, but the Turners rushed everything.”

He chuckled and took an ornate wooden box from the butler. “This is my gift to you.”

The butler opened the box. Seth and Eloise both shot to their feet. “Dad!” “Jericho!”

Inside lay a pair of exquisite emerald bracelets set in gold, their green stones glowing under the lights. Aria knew exactly what they were worth. At auction, they could fetch a small fortune. If they were antiques, they were priceless.

“Jericho, how could you give those bracelets to her?” Eloise’s face twisted with displeasure.

“Would you rather have them?” Jericho asked mildly.

Seth tried carefully. “Dad, those were Great-grandmother’s. If you give them to her, they’ll be…”

“They’ll be what?” Jericho cut him off, then turned to Silas, his silent second son. “Are you planning to divorce her?”

Silas lifted his head slowly. His eyes met Aria’s by accident. “Do you want a divorce?”

The softness of his words sent a chill down Aria’s spine. “I… I don’t… dare.”

“Don’t dare, or won’t?” His question hit like a nail straight to the heart.

Under the weight of every stare in the room, Aria took a deep breath. “I won’t!”

Silas rose from the couch with easy grace and walked toward her. With deliberate movements, he took the emerald bracelets and slid them slowly onto her slender wrists.

“Son! Those are your father’s heirlooms, and you’re giving them to this woman?” Eloise protested.

Ignoring his mother, Silas secured the bracelets in place. Then he leaned in and whispered, soft enough that only Aria could hear, “Prove you deserve them.”