The Blind Billionaire's Substitute Bride

"Edward, I'm already at the meeting point. Haven't you picked up my sister yet?"

Behind a sterile face mask, Octavia Boleyn spoke urgently into her phone, her gaze fixed intently on the airport entrance.

Today was the day she and her boyfriend Edward Tudor had agreed to leave the country. To prevent her sister from marrying Leopold Seymour—who had become cruel and violent after going blind—they had planned to take her sister with them.

The meeting time had come and gone, yet there was still no sign of Edward or her sister

"Grab her!"

A sudden shout cut through the air from behind, followed by the frantic, rapid-fire rhythm of footsteps echoing against the floor.

Octavia instinctively turned around, but before she could see what was happening, several large bodyguards rushed over and pinned her down.

They were after her?

Octavia froze in confusion, but the moment shattered when she spotted a sharp-looking young woman emerging from behind the wall of bodyguards, leveled a finger at her, her expression like ice.

"You dare run from Leopold's engagement? Claire, you're done for."

With a wave of her hand, she ordered, "Take her back! I'm going to teach her a lesson."

Octavia struggled instinctively. "You've got the wrong person, I'm not..."

But the young woman cut her off sharply.

"Not what? Are you trying to say you're not Claire?"

The woman’s lip curled into a sneer. "Drop the act," she spat. "If we didn't have eyes on you, how do you think we knew you'd be at the airport?"

Octavia felt the blood drain from her face. Before she could find her voice or pull away, a familiar tone sliced through the noise of the crowd.

"Claire, stop being stubborn and go back with Miss Seymour."

The speaker slowly approached, wearing a face identical to Octavia's, filled with concern.

Who else could it be but her twin sister, Claire Boleyn?

Standing right there was Edward Tudor, Octavia's boyfriend—the very man who had supposedly been too busy to show up.

At that moment, Edward had his arm around Claire's shoulder and chimed in, "Yeah, Claire, Mr. Seymour has such great credentials. What are you hesitating for? Go back and stop worrying Octavia."

In an instant, Octavia understood everything.

She looked at them coldly. "So this is what you've been planning."

A flicker of guilt twitched across Edward’s features, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He pivoted away from Octavia, his face transforming into a wide, practiced smile as he turned his full attention toward the young woman.

"Miss Seymour, Claire has been the spoiled one since childhood. Please be understanding."

Miss Seymour dodged his outstretched hand with disgust and ordered the bodyguards, "Take her away."

"I'm not Claire!" Octavia struggled hard. "Miss Seymour, you're such a smart person—surely you won't be fooled by them?"

Miss Seymour frowned, looking impatient.

Claire suddenly sighed, pulled out a phone and an ID card from her bag.

With a quick press of her thumb, she bypassed the lock screen and held out the device along with the other items, offering them to Miss Seymour with a steady hand.

"Miss Seymour, look, I'm even wearing the same old jacket as in my ID photo. And this photo was also taken in this jacket."

To make sure Miss Seymour believed her, she turned the phone off and on again, unlocking it with her fingerprint one moment and using facial recognition for other passwords the next.

A faint, weary smile touched her lips. "I’m sorry you had to witness that. Claire has always harbored a bit of a jealous streak where I’m concerned."

Octavia felt like she'd been struck by lightning.

Claire was holding Octavia's phone and ID card!

Yesterday, Claire had spun a story about her phone accidentally breaking. Since they were scheduled for a crack-of-dawn departure this morning, she had cornered Octavia, asking to borrow her backup device to stay connected.

As for the fingerprint and facial recognition on the phone, Claire had recorded them long ago after acting cute and getting Octavia's permission.

And the ID card—she clearly remembered packing it carefully in her bag yesterday. When she got to the airport and couldn't find it, she had specifically asked Claire to find it and bring it over.

So Octavia had fallen into her own sister's trap!

But why?

After the tragedy of their parents' passing, they were all that remained of their world—identical twins bound by blood and a shared history, the only true family either of them had left.

Octavia looked at Claire with disappointment. "You didn't want to get married, so I tried everything to help you. I never thought you'd repay me like this."

She struggled and looked at Miss Seymour. "The phone on me can also prove I'm Octavia, not Claire!"

However, before Miss Seymour could react, Claire stepped forward with an apologetic smile. "Miss Seymour, please forgive her. Claire has some misunderstanding about Mr. Seymour, that's why she's reacting so strongly..."

That single sentence was enough to ignite Miss Seymour's temper. "I’ve heard enough!" she barked, her voice sharp with irritation. "Quiet her—knock her out and get her out of here!"

Before Octavia could say anything, a sharp pain hit the back of her neck, and everything went dark.

She lost consciousness.

When she woke up again, she found herself in a luxurious but unfamiliar room.

Octavia felt the plush fabric of a sofa beneath her as consciousness rushed back. She bolted upright, only to find her own startled gaze staring back at her from a wide, ornate mirror across the room.

Her heart suddenly began to pound.

In the mirror, she had been changed into a wedding dress, with nothing beside her!

"Awake? You slept like a pig."

A spoiled voice pulled her thoughts back to reality. Octavia turned her head. On the other side of the room sat the Miss Seymour who had forcibly taken her from the airport.

The woman staring back at her was none other than the sole daughter of the formidable Seymour dynasty: Leopold Seymour’s younger sister, Monica Seymour.

Gripping the wedding dress tightly, Octavia took a breath. "Miss Seymour, I'm not..."

Monica suddenly threw her coffee cup at Octavia's feet. The glass shattered into pieces, and dark brown stains instantly splattered onto Octavia's dress.

"Don't play games with me." Monica stood up. "I've already checked your identity, Claire! Leopold marrying you is doing you a favor. Who are you to be picky?"

"You're getting married today whether you like it or not!"

From the looks of it, nothing she said would make a difference.

The marriage pact between Claire and the Seymour dynasty was a relic of the past, a final decree set in stone by their grandfather before he passed away.

After their grandfather died, their uncle had no business talent, and the Boleyn Family went bankrupt in a major crisis. Later, their uncle wanted to send Claire away to seek help from the Seymour Family.

But when a car accident left Leopold blind, his temperament soured into something unrecognizable. The once-respected heir became a man of shadows and rage, striking fear into the hearts of everyone around him.

Claire didn't want to marry Leopold, so at a party attended by all of Emberfall City's elite, she publicly mocked Leopold for being blind and even mentioned the Seymour siblings' deceased parents, her words full of contempt.

Now, being mistaken for Claire, she was the unlucky one.

It’s baffling—why would a powerhouse like the Seymour family still insist on honoring the engagement after everything that’s happened?

Octavia looked into Monica's eyes and understood.

Of course—it was for revenge.

But this level of trouble was nothing to Octavia once she calmed down.

Otherwise, what had she built her overseas career for all these years?

Noticing her gaze, Monica misunderstood something and showed a contemptuous sneer.

"You think we brought you back for the wedding to marry you into our family as a rich wife? Dream on."

She paced forward, stopping just inches from Octavia with a venomous smirk playing on her lips. Leaning in close, she hovered near her.

"Claire, you publicly insulted Leopold and my parents—you didn't really think there'd be no consequences, did you?"

Hearing this, Octavia only felt it was absurd and helpless. She instantly came up with a plan and looked up at Monica.

Monica's smile froze.

The next moment, Octavia pushed her away.

Octavia rose slowly, her eyes fixed on her reflection in the glass. With a sharp, decisive movement, she seized the stained hem of her gown and ripped it away.

Fortunately, it wasn't a heavily embellished wedding dress. The light gown instantly became an irregular hem, revealing her slender, straight right leg—it actually looked like a design choice.

She smoothed her disheveled hair back into place, drawing a deep, steadying breath to settle her nerves. With her chin held high, she turned away from the mirror and walked toward the door.

"What are you standing there for?"

She turned back to look at Monica, coldly lifting her chin. "Aren't you taking me to the wedding? Lead the way."