I always thought the night before my wedding would be sleepless, but for different reasons.Excitement. Nerves. Maybe imagining the vows I'd whisper tomorrow when I became Mrs. Xu.
Instead, I sat frozen on the velvet couch of my fiancé's penthouse, the air thick with the scent of roses meant for a wedding that no longer belonged to me.
"Liya," Xu Zeyan said, his voice calm, almost gentle, like he was doing me a favor. "I have to marry your stepsister instead."
For a second, I thought I'd misheard him.
"…What did you just say?" My throat scraped raw as the words left me.
Zeyan didn't flinch. His suit jacket hung carelessly from his shoulders, and his tie was loosened as though this were a casual after-work chat, not the destruction of six years of my life.
"She doesn't have long to live." He sighed, as though the weight of being so noble exhausted him. "It's her last wish to be my bride. I can't deny her that."
My fingers dug into the couch cushion. "So I'm just—what? A placeholder?"
"No." He stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder like he still had the right. "Once I grant her wish, I'll come back to you. We'll have our wedding then. You'll always be the one I love most, Liya."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for him to laugh and say this was some twisted joke. But his eyes, those eyes I once thought warm, were steady. Resolute.
A laugh burst from me—harsh, bitter, alien in my own ears. "A secondhand marriage? You think I'll sit quietly and wait for you to come back, after you've worn another woman's ring? After you've slept in her bed?"
"She's dying," he snapped, finally losing the mask of calm. "Don't be heartless. After she's gone, you'll understand."
Heartless. The word sliced deeper than his betrayal.For six years, I'd poured everything into him. I cooked when he was too tired, canceled job interviews to be at his side, bent my life around his schedule and moods. I gave up dreams, friends, time—my very self—for him.
And now I was heartless.
I rose on trembling legs. My wedding dress was still hanging in my apartment, the veil I'd chosen with my mother's pearls sewn in. I pictured it burning, turning to ash like the life I thought I had.
"I understand perfectly," I whispered. "You want me as your backup bride. But I won't be anyone's second choice."
For the first time, his composure cracked. "Liya—don't be dramatic. I'm doing the right thing."
"No, Zeyan." My lips curved into a smile that felt sharper than glass. "You're doing the convenient thing. But I won't be waiting when you come crawling back."
I walked out before he could answer. The slam of the door echoed behind me, final and merciless.
The night air outside was cold, slicing through my thin dress. Neon lights bled across the pavement, painting the city in false colors. I walked without direction, heels clattering, tears blurring my vision.
Six years. Six years I had given him, and now I had nothing. Not even a home to return to.
Because when I reached my family's villa that night, dragging my suitcase behind me, the lights inside were blazing bright, the sound of laughter spilling out. My stepsister, Shen Rou, was already there, draped in a silk robe, glowing like a bride.
"Liya." My father's voice cut like ice the moment he saw me. "You're not welcome here tonight."
I stopped at the doorway. "Dad…"
"Don't embarrass yourself." My stepmother appeared, her lips curled in disdain. "Your sister is ill. She deserves happiness in her final days. If sacrificing your position gives her peace, then as her sister, isn't that your duty?"
Sacrifice. Duty. Words they'd always used to chain me, to remind me I was never truly part of this family.
Rou's eyes met mine over the rim of her champagne glass, her smile smug and triumphant.
"I'm still the one he loves," I said, forcing the words past the lump in my throat.
Her laugh was soft, mocking. "But I'm the one he chose."
My father turned his back on me. Just like that, I was dismissed.
I left, suitcase rattling behind me like a funeral procession. By the time I reached the end of the driveway, the villa's gates closed with a metallic clang, shutting me out completely.
I had nowhere left to go.
It rained that night, a cold, relentless drizzle that seeped into my bones. I huddled beneath the awning of a closed café, the city's glow fractured through puddles. My phone buzzed endlessly—messages from relatives, gossip spreading like wildfire. The bride abandoned. The substitute sister. The pitiful fiancée.
Pitiful. That was what they'd call me.
I clenched my fists until my nails bit skin. I would not be pitiful.
"Miss Shen?"
The voice startled me. Deep, low, carrying a warmth that shouldn't have existed in the chill night. I looked up.
A man stood there, tall beneath a black umbrella. His tailored suit clung perfectly to his broad frame, his dark hair slick with rain. His face—handsome almost to the point of cruelty—was softened by a smile.
But his eyes.His eyes were dangerous. Like a predator who'd found prey.
"You don't know me," he said, offering the umbrella. "But I know you. And I think we can help each other."
I hesitated, shivering beneath his gaze. "Who are you?"
"Lu Shiyuan." The name struck a faint memory—whispers of a man who controlled half the city's business world, ruthless, untouchable. A man others feared to cross.
He knelt slightly, lowering the umbrella over me. "I heard what happened. If you want revenge, marry me instead."
The words jolted through me. "Marry you?"
His smile widened, warm and terrifying all at once. "Yes. I'll give you everything you need to crush them. All I ask is that you stand by my side."
The rain hammered harder against the pavement, a relentless applause.
I stared at the hand he offered me, torn between despair and fury. Between ruin and rebirth.
And in that moment, something inside me shifted.
If my love had burned to ashes, then I would rise from them.
Slowly, I placed my hand in his.
"Fine," I whispered. "I'll marry you."