My fiancé—a man bound to a wheelchair—had just arrived to hand me my engagement ring. In response, I threw it right back at his chest, throwing a full-blown tantrum and demanding we call off the wedding. Then, out of nowhere, translucent boxes of glowing text materialized in my field of vision, hovering in the air like a live-stream chat room. What an idiot. Her identity as the fake heiress is getting exposed tomorrow, and she’s still throwing a fit. The second the real heiress comes back, her adoptive parents are packing her up overnight and handing her over to that sick old pervert Henderson to settle their debts. She looks down on a disabled billionaire every single day, pulling stunt after stunt to break off the engagement. He’s top-tier old money! If she doesn’t lock him down right now, he’s going to belong to the real heiress. I sucked in a sharp breath. The hand I had been pointing aggressively at his nose slowly, awkwardly retreated. Damian remained silent for a beat. He turned his wheelchair toward the door, his voice cool and indifferent. “Fine. I’ll issue a statement tomorrow. The engagement is off.” Thump. I dropped to my knees in front of his wheelchair, snatched the ring right out of his hand, and shoved it onto my finger. “Don’t be like that! Why are you so sensitive?” I squeezed out a desperate, theatrical smile. “I’m yours in life, and I’m yours in death! Hubby, why wait for a good day? How about we head to City Hall and get our marriage license right now?” … Damian’s dark brows pulled together tightly. His sharp, analytical gaze swept over me, heavy with suspicion. “Sadie,” he said, his voice measured. “Five minutes ago, you were threatening to jump off a balcony if I didn’t release you. What kind of game are you playing now?” More glowing text drifted past my face. What is this toxic fake heiress up to now? Calling him ‘hubby’ after throwing a fit? There’s definitely a catch! A dramatic nightmare like her—no man could stand her for more than five minutes. I let out a forced laugh, forcing my theatrical acting into overdrive. “That was a test! I was testing your patience, trying to see if you could tolerate my little quirks—if you really wanted to marry me. Congratulations! You passed with flying colors!” I peeked down at Damian’s legs beneath his tailored trousers, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had, in fact, detested the idea of marrying a man in a wheelchair. Rumor had it that Damian Cross was cold-blooded, ruthless, and entirely unfeeling. On top of that, I had been harboring a pathetic, secret crush on my brother’s best friend, Mason. The floating comments seemed to read my mind, rolling across my vision in a frantic frenzy. Doesn’t she still have a massive crush on her brother’s best friend? Too bad Mason can’t stand the sight of her. Right? He’s the male lead—he belongs exclusively to the real heiress. Mason has been sick of Sadie for years. He only smiles at her because he respects her brother. A cold chill washed down my spine. My quiet, unrequited love… had been viewed with nothing but disgust by Mason all along? The text kept scrolling. She has the nerve to look down on Damian just because he’s in a chair. Once she gets shipped off to old man Henderson with his sadistic bedroom habits, she’ll realize what a saint Damian actually is! My mind began racing through rapid calculations. A sadistic old creep versus a ridiculously gorgeous, ultra-wealthy billionaire in a wheelchair. Damian might be bound to a chair, but he was breathtakingly handsome and immensely powerful. He was my absolute golden ticket to survival. To hell with romance! Compared to money and staying alive, romance wasn’t worth a single dime. Who wouldn’t want to be a billionaire’s wife? So what if he was in a wheelchair? A husband who couldn’t run around was a blessing—he’d hand over his black card, stay out of my hair, and live a long, prosperous life! Damian watched the emotions flickering across my face, clearly unconvinced by my speech. He pulled his sleeve out of my tight grip, his voice icy. “Marriage isn’t a game, Sadie. I won’t have you regretting this.” The live chat rallied behind him instantly. Hell yeah! Good job, boss! Don’t fall for this drama queen’s trap! She’s definitely plotting something! Run, man, run! The real heiress comes back tomorrow. You deserve so much better! Damian’s dark eyes locked onto mine, searching, deep. “I’ll give you one night,” he said quietly. “If you haven’t changed your mind by morning… I’ll be parked outside the Lambert estate at nine sharp. We’ll go to City Hall.” With a flick of his wrist, he signaled his assistant, who immediately stepped forward to wheel him toward the exit. After Damian left, I collapsed onto the sofa, staring blankly at the massive diamond ring resting on my finger. A seed of doubt crept into my mind. Could I really trust these floating text boxes? Even if I wasn’t their biological daughter, the Lamberts had raised me for twenty years. My parents and my brother had pampered me like a princess. How could they possibly have the heart to pack me up and sell me to a monster to cover their debts? As if answering my internal conflict, the floating text illuminated the air once more. The Lambert family’s capital chain snapped two weeks ago. The only reason they pressed for her to marry Damian was to secure the Cross family’s emergency bailout. If she weren’t so drop-dead gorgeous, the Lamberts wouldn’t have adopted her in the first place. Raising her for twenty years was just an investment—a bargaining chip to pave the way for her brother, Brandon. The real heiress lands tomorrow. By then, Sadie won’t even be eligible for a high-society marriage. She’s getting handed straight to Henderson for a twenty-million-dollar cash injection. My scalp went numb. Terror spread through my veins, cold and absolute. I took a deep, shaky breath, my vision sharpening with newfound vigilance. On the drive back to the Lambert estate, I thumbed the polished diamond on my finger. If these floating words were true… then Damian Cross was my only way out. The moment I stepped through the front doors of the mansion, my adoptive parents rushed into the foyer. There was no warmth in their eyes, no inquiry about whether I was tired or hungry. Instead, their faces were tight with anxiety, their questions sharp and impatient. “Sadie! How did it go with Damian? Did he mention a wedding date?” A knot tied itself in my stomach. I decided to test them. Leaning into my usual spoiled, reckless persona, I tossed my designer handbag onto the entry table with a loud thud. “I’m not marrying that cripple!” I snapped, tossing my head back. “I told him straight up that it’s over. He agreed to break off the engagement, and he’s releasing a public statement tomorrow morning.” The indulgent, loving smiles instantly vanished from their faces. In their place emerged stark shock and raw, venomous rage. My adoptive father, Howard Lambert, trembled with fury. He raised his hand and brought it down hard across my cheek. SLAP. “You brainless brat!” he roared. My adoptive mother, Beatrice, didn’t offer a single word of comfort. Gone was her gentle demeanor; she stepped forward, her voice sharp and scolding. “Do you have any idea what’s happening to our company’s finances? Without the Cross family’s funding, we’re going under! The Lambert family raised you for twenty years—asking you to marry a man in a wheelchair isn’t asking you to die!” I stood there, stunned, my hand pressed against my burning cheek. Just then, the heavy front door swung open. My brother, Brandon, walked in. Seeing the brother who had always protected me, a wave of hurt crashed over me. I reached out, seeking refuge. “Brandon…” Having caught the tail end of the conversation, Brandon’s face turned thunderous. He didn’t pull me into a hug. Instead, he shoved me back violently. “You selfish, stupid bitch!” he snarled. “You only care about your own little feelings! You don’t give a damn about this family’s survival or my future!” The glowing text floated overhead once more. See? The Lamberts were only good to her because she had value. Now that she’s ruined the deal, she has nothing. It’s better if she doesn’t marry him anyway. The real heiress comes back tomorrow—she’ll be Mrs. Cross soon enough. My chest tightened as I looked at the three people before me. This was my family? Faced with my silence, Howard, Beatrice, and Brandon exchanged a swift, meaningful glance. I caught it instantly—a flash of cold, calculating greed in their eyes. It was the look of ruthless business executives cutting their losses. Howard drew a long breath, forcing his rage back down, his face morphing back into a gentle, fatherly mask. “Alright, alright. Since the engagement is off, what’s done is done. If you really don’t want to marry Damian, we won’t force you.” Beatrice and Brandon quickly fell in line, their attitudes doing a complete 180-degree turn. Beatrice stepped closer, taking my cold hands in hers, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Sadie, sweetie… there’s an exclusive charity gala tomorrow night. Dress up nicely and come with us. You’re older now; it’s time you met some of the influential executives in the city. If there’s a fine young man you like, they can introduce you.” The text box flashed again, glowing bright crimson. Here it comes! They’re taking her to meet old man Henderson! At this exact party, the Lamberts are going to spike her drink and ship her straight to Henderson’s hotel suite in exchange for a twenty-million-dollar investment! That old pervert has literally killed girls in bed before. But hey, she brought this on herself by being such a drama queen! Looking at the smiling faces of my parents and brother, the blood in my veins turned to ice. It was all real. Every single word. To them, I wasn’t a daughter or a sister. I was an asset to be liquidated. To avoid tipping them off, I swallowed the wave of nausea rising in my throat, forcing myself to nod meekly. “Okay. Whatever you say, Mom, Dad.” Late that night, when the house was swallowed by silence, I crept out of my bedroom and slipped into my father’s study. I flipped through drawers and unlocked safes until I finally retrieved my official birth records and personal documents. Under the dim moonlight streaming through the window, I clutched the papers to my chest, my gaze hardening into steel. To hell with family loyalty. To hell with tragic romance. Tomorrow morning, I was marrying Damian Cross. The next day, I woke up early and dressed meticulously. I slipped my documents safely into my leather tote bag and made my way downstairs. My parents were sitting at the dining table, having breakfast. Seeing me dressed to the nines, Beatrice’s eyes narrowed in instant suspicion. “Sadie? Where are you going so early?” I didn’t blink, letting out a airy, spoiled sigh. “I have to prepare for the gala tonight! I booked a full spa treatment and a hair salon appointment. If I’m going to impress these wealthy eligible bachelors, I need to outshine everyone in the room.” Relief washed over their faces. Convinced that I had fallen completely into line, they smiled and let me go. Stepping out through the gates of the estate, I spotted a sleek, low-profile black Maybach parked by the curb. The license plate was unmistakable. It was Damian’s. My eyes lit up. I hurried over, opened the rear door, and slid into the leather seat. Damian had been reviewing documents on a tablet. Looking up to see me actually standing there—without a hint of reluctance—a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his deep, dark eyes. The moment I sat down, I clicked my seatbelt into place, pulled the documents from my bag with a bright smile, and handed them over. Then, I casually wrapped my arm through his. “Hubby! I brought all my papers. Let’s go!” I caught a faint, almost imperceptible flush creeping up the back of his ears. Clearing his throat, he pushed a thermos of warm milk and a box of delicate breakfast pastries toward me. “Have you truly thought this through?” he asked, his dark gaze intense, predatory—as if giving me one last chance to run before he locked the cage forever. I nodded firmly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” The text boxes exploded above us. Wait a minute… why is this drama queen acting so docile today? Holy crap, did Big Boss Cross just feel a spark of satisfaction? He even bought her breakfast! Weren’t they supposed to despise each other? What is this weirdly sweet energy? Why am I suddenly shipping them?! I ignored the floating text entirely. Together, Damian and I arrived at City Hall. The photos, the paperwork, the official seals—it was all completed in less than twenty minutes. Holding the sleek, navy-blue marriage certificate in my hands, the weight in my chest finally lifted. I had officially secured my lifeline. Stepping out of the building, I tugged gently on Damian’s sleeve, softening my voice into a sweet, coaxing tone. “Hubby… can we keep this quiet for just a little bit? I want to tell my parents in person and give them a big surprise.” Damian had navigated the cutthroat corporate world for years; he could see right through my lie. He studied me intently, choosing not to break my cover, and simply offered a quiet nod. “Fine. As you wish. Call me if you need anything.” His unspoken indulgence warmed my chest. When I arrived back at the Lambert mansion, I opened the door to hear the sound of muffled weeping coming from the living room. Walking into the grand foyer, I saw a young woman—dressed simply, looking frail and deeply pitied—wrapped tightly in my mother’s arms. The true heiress, Cassie Lambert, had finally arrived. Standing beside Cassie, his eyes filled with fierce protection, was Mason—the man I had spent years pining over. The moment Mason caught sight of me, he stepped in front of Cassie like a guard dog, his expression dripping with defense and disgust. Seeing the man I used to love looking at another woman with such tenderness gave me a brief, dull sting in my chest. Then, the text scrolled past. The male lead was always meant for the real heiress. What is the fake heiress getting all bitter about? I snapped back to reality instantly. Bitterness? Please. I had an official marriage certificate to a billionaire sitting in my bag! The crying stopped the moment I entered, plunging the room into an excruciating, awkward silence. Howard cleared his throat, his tone sounding like a request, though it was clearly an order. “Sadie, move your things out of the master suite on the second floor. Clear out your walk-in closet too—give the designer dresses and jewelry to Cassie. Consider it compensation for everything she suffered over the years.” Beatrice chimed in immediately. “And Sadie, tomorrow night, bring Cassie along to the gala.” The live chat went frantic once again. The Lamberts are planning to pitch the real heiress to Damian for marriage, while drugging the fake heiress and handing her over to old man Henderson to settle their debt! One daughter for a marriage alliance, one daughter for debt clearance. The Lamberts really know how to play the math! Poor Mason has no idea he’s delivering his girl right into a corporate human-trafficking setup. I let out a cold laugh on the inside, but my face molded into a bright, cooperative smile. “Of course, Mom, Dad. I’ll go pack right away. And don’t worry, I’ll take great care of my new sister at the gala tomorrow.” I cleared out my room with lightning speed. Cassie stood by the doorway, her eyes rimmed with red as she watched me pack my luggage. “Sister… I really didn’t mean to drive you out…” Looking at the timid, fragile girl before me, I couldn’t find it in myself to hate her. Knowing what a snake pit the Lambert family was, I actually felt a wave of pity for her. I offered her a slight smile. “It’s fine. It was yours to begin with; I was just holding onto it for a few years.” Before rolling my suitcase out, I leaned in close to Cassie, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Just a heads-up—tomorrow night’s party isn’t going to be safe. Keep your guard up, and don’t trust a single word our ‘parents’ say.” The glowing text flickered above us in sheer confusion. Huh? Why isn’t the evil fake heiress bullying the real one? Is she actually… warning her? This isn’t how the script goes! Ignoring Cassie’s stunned expression and the live chat’s confusion, I walked straight into the adjacent guest room, locked the door, and dialed Damian’s personal number. He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” his deep voice echoed through the line. I skipped the small talk, asking directly if he was attending the charity gala tomorrow night. When he gave me a concise “Yes,” the final knot of anxiety in my chest unraveled. I let out a cheerful breath and launched into a ridiculously affection-drenched sign-off. “I miss you so much, Hubby! See you tomorrow night! Get some good rest!” I hung up immediately, feeling completely at peace, and wrapped myself in the duvet for a solid night’s sleep. The following evening, the gala venue was a sparkling sea of haute couture and champagne flutes. Howard and Beatrice paraded a beautifully styled Cassie around the room. Pleased with how ‘obedient’ I had been, they dragged her from guest to guest, shedding tearful tears as they introduced her as their long-lost biological daughter. Before long, Damian’s wheelchair appeared at the entrance of the ballroom. My adoptive parents’ eyes lit up instantly. Dragging Cassie along, they practically threw themselves in his path, flattering him relentlessly while subtly hinting that the arrangement for the Cross family marriage could easily be switched to their biological daughter. Standing a short distance away, I spotted Mason lurking in a dark corner, his face as black as thunder. Watching his suppressed, miserable rage, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. While Howard droned on, Damian’s gaze cut straight through the crowd, landing precisely on me. Taking advantage of the fact that no one was paying attention, I popped out my tongue and made a ridiculous face at him. Seeing my goofy expression, Damian’s dark eyes softened slightly, the corner of his lips tugging upward in an almost imperceptible smile. The live chat lost its mind. Holy shit! Did Big Boss Cross just smile?! The Lambert parents are out here aggressively marketing the real heiress, completely unaware that the married couple is flirting right in front of them! Halfway through the evening, knowing how filthy the Lamberts’ tactics could be, I glued myself to Damian’s side. I poured his tea, fetched his water, and acted thoroughly devoted. Though Damian pretended to be annoyed by my clinginess, he didn’t push me away once. When an executive came over to toast him, he even signaled his assistant to swap my wine glass for chilled grape juice. Watching from afar, the Lamberts were practically breaking out in a sweat, but they couldn’t find a single window of opportunity to isolate me. Toward the end of the night, seeing Damian locked in conversation with a group of board members, I slipped away to use the restroom. The moment I stepped out of the lounge corridor, a red-eyed Mason blocked my path. Driven frantic by something, he yelled straight into my face. “Sadie! What did you do to Cassie?!” “Are you so consumed by jealousy that you did something terrible to her?” “I know you’ve been obsessed with me for years, but give it up! Even without Cassie, I would never love a girl like you!” I stood there, completely bewildered by his sudden outburst. Suddenly, massive crimson text boxes flashed aggressively before my eyes. MASON IS A DUMBASS! THE REAL HEIRESS WAS DRUGGED BY HER OWN PARENTS TWENTY MINUTES AGO! BECAUSE DAMIAN PROTECTED THE FAKE HEIRESS ALL NIGHT, THE LAMBERTS COULDN’T GET TO HER. TO SECURE HENDERSON’S TWENTY-MILLION-DOLLAR INVESTMENT, THEY DRUGGED THEIR BIOLOGICAL DAUGHTER AND CARRIED HER UP TO ROOM 302! THE REAL HEIRESS IS ABOUT TO BE RUINED BY OLD MAN HENDERSON! MASON, STOP FREAKING OUT ON THE WRONG GIRL AND RUN UPSTREAM TO SAVE HER! I gasped, my jaw practically hitting the floor. To save their own skins, the Lamberts had actually pushed the biological daughter they just reclaimed into a living hell! I didn’t have time to argue with Mason. I opened my mouth to tell him to sprint to Room 302— When the soft, distinct sound of rubber wheels rolling over the plush hallway carpet echoed behind us. The ambient temperature in the corridor instantly plummeted to freezing. Damian brought his wheelchair to a halt a few paces away. His long, elegant fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest, his dark eyes narrowing into a dangerous, icy slit. His voice carried a terrifying, quiet chill. “Oh? So… Miss Lambert’s heart has belonged to young Mr. Mason all along?”
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