Substitute Bride: The Young Master's Vengeful Wife

Ice water hit her face, and Josephine Titan came back to the pain.

Her ribs had stopped feeling like ribs an hour ago. Somewhere above her, a woman in a grey inmate uniform wiped a boot across her hair and laughed. Another hummed tunelessly, like someone scrubbing a floor.

Three months in this prison. Three months since Seraphina's lawyers had produced a stolen knife, a dead man's statement, and a version of Josephine that had never existed, a girl who killed out of jealousy. She had been sentenced before she understood what she was being sentenced for.

"Sign it."

Seraphina Titan crouched in front of her, lovely in a cream coat that did not belong in a place like this. She held out a pen the way a nurse holds a thermometer. Gentle. Patient.

"Organ donation consent, sister. Just your name, and it all stops."

"No."

"Your heart is a perfect match, you know. Mine is failing and yours is right there." A small sigh. "It would be rude to waste it."

Josephine's swollen eyes slid past her to the man leaning in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. Alistair Vance. Her fiancé. The man she had schemed to marry, loved for years, and given everything to, while he slept with her stepsister behind her back.

"Alistair," she rasped. "Say something."

He looked at her like a stain on a nice carpet. "You're dying either way, Josephine. If the heart comes out inside the window, it can still be transplanted. Don't make this uglier than it has to be."

"I won't sign."

"Then we do it the slow way."

The dagger came out. The flat of the blade slid down her cheek, cold, and stopped under her left eye.

"Take the eyes first," Seraphina said brightly. "I can't stand how she looks at him."

The point touched her eyelashes. Josephine did not blink. She had nothing left but that, the refusal to look away, and she held on to it like the last coin in a pocket.

"Wait," she whispered. "I'll sign."

Alistair studied her for a long moment. Whatever he saw in her face, he believed it. His grip on her arm loosened.

Josephine moved.

She tore the dagger out of his hand and drove it into her own chest with everything she had left. Pain exploded, white and total. She heard Seraphina scream. She saw the pen hit the floor and roll.

A heart with a blade through it was no good to anyone.

She smiled at them, red to the teeth. "Enjoy your disease, sister."

"...the Veyron Dynasty is the most powerful house in Eryndor! Do you know how many women would kill to be mistress there?"

A voice buzzed in her ear like a fly.

Josephine's hand was pressed to her chest. Her heart was pounding. Whole. Warm.

She lay there and listened to it, stunned, the way you listen for a footstep in an empty house.

"Honestly, Josephine, if your sister hadn't suddenly fallen ill, a fortune like this would never have landed on you."

That voice. She knew the next line before it came.

Her eyes snapped open.

The narrow bed. The bulky old computer. Books stacked on the floor. The storage room Seraphina had never wanted, which was the only place Josephine had been allowed to sleep for years. And standing over her, still youthful and radiant in her forties, Odette Titan.

Josephine lifted her hands in front of her face. Ten fingers. Ten nails, every one of them whole, pink and clean and unbroken. No scars on her wrists. No blood under her skin.

Reborn. She had been reborn.

Joy hit her so hard her fingers shook. She curled them into the blanket and kept her face perfectly still. Odette had never been able to read her. She would not be allowed to start now.

"Are you listening?" Odette snapped. "Lord Veyron's people are coming today. Seraphina is in the hospital, so you will stand in for her. It's an honor."

Josephine sat up slowly. "Seraphina is conveniently in the hospital," she said, "and her mother called my fiancé to keep her company. So now I marry a paralyzed man. He dies within days, the Veyrons throw me out, and the Vances won't touch a widow."

Odette blinked. In her last life, this was exactly what Josephine had said, word for word. Back then it had only made Odette angrier.

"Don't be ungrateful," Odette said, her smile cooling. "Your engagement with Alistair is a union of family interests, nothing more. If you're cast out of the Titan family, do you think the Vances will still let him marry you? There is only one path in front of you. Marry Lord Veyron for your sister's sake."

Josephine reached under the pillow, took out a folded paper, and laid it on the blanket between them.

Her mother's will.

Everything in the Titan legacy, every company, every property, every share, every shop and piece of jewelry, belonged to Josephine alone. Not Reginald. Not Odette. Not one coin without her consent.

Odette's eyes locked on it, and something hungry crossed her face.

"Tell you what," she said, softer now, almost kind. "Renounce the inheritance, and I'll find a way to spare you this marriage. Hand it all to your father, and I'll make sure you never have to go near Lord Veyron. Are you willing?"

Last time, Josephine had signed. She had been so relieved, so grateful to be spared, that she had thanked Odette. Every cruelty that followed had grown out of that one signature, like a tree from a seed.

She looked at the woman who had smiled so warmly then.

"No."

"What?"

"Keep your offer." Josephine's voice was calm and clear. "I'll marry him. In Seraphina's place. But I have two conditions."

Odette's mouth worked. "Which are?"

"I sever all ties with Reginald Titan. And I annul my engagement to Alistair Vance."

Odette's whole face lit up. With Josephine cut off, every shred of the Titan fortune would pass to her son. With the engagement annulled, her daughter would get Alistair for free. She was practically glowing.

Josephine lowered her eyelashes and let her think so.

Laugh now, Odette. The deeper you dig, the harder you fall.

"Madam!" A servant's voice rang through the house. "The Veyron family's people have arrived!"

Josephine rose and smoothed her wrinkled sleeve. In her last life, the Veyron heir had died a month after the wedding. Everyone called it illness. Josephine was no longer so sure.

She walked into the great hall, where black-suited men lined the walls in perfect silence. At the center of them sat a man in a wheelchair, his back as straight as a blade.

He raised his head.

His eyes met hers, dark and unreadable and utterly without mercy, and the heart she had stabbed to keep from them skipped one beat.

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A/N: If you've made it to the end of Chapter 1, thank you! I just want to assure you that we are only just getting started. The first chapter is just the tip of the iceberg.

Stick tight, because this story is a wild rollercoaster with twists and drama you won't see coming.

Before you click Next: Please Add to Library and leave a comment! It tells me you're enjoying the ride and helps me update faster. See you in Chapter 2!