Substitute Marriage: Taming The Disabled Billionaire

Kaya Harper smoothed the cheap white dress on her knee for the tenth time. Three days ago, when Melinda Linwood handed the so-called wedding dress into her hands, her face was streaked with tears and utterly desperate.

"Just a few days, Kaeya, I swear." Melinda's perfectly trimmed fingers gripped her arm tightly, the strong scent of expensive perfume spreading between them. "Olivia has a severe allergy, her face is completely ruined." We just need someone to meet that old lady and put her at ease. ”

This promise was as simple as a lifeline. "Once Olivia is better, we'll send you back." And Kaeya, naive and desperate, agreed to the request. She urgently needed that money to redeem her grandfather's old medical books and notes—the only remaining relics of her family that had been seized by the Linwood family.

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes full of pity. With every mile the Lincoln sedan traveled, the fear in Kaeya's stomach tightened by a bit. They leave the hustle and bustle of New York City behind and drive onto a private road through the lush greenery of the Hamptons. The manor grew ever larger, its walls ever higher, until it no longer looked like a mansion but more like a fortress.

Then, the gate appeared. The massive wrought iron is twisted into intricate patterns, with a majestic letter "N" standing tall at the top. Rather than an entrance, it was more like the giant mouth of some giant beast opening its mouth. The front door silently slid open, and the car entered a lane that seemed endless. Neatly trimmed lawns spread out on both sides, dotted with ancient oak trees.

At the end of the driveway, a luxury mansion rises from the ground, piercing the clouds. It wasn't a house, but a massive castle made of stone and glass, as if it could instantly drain the air from your lungs. Its existence is meant to make people feel small, and it has done just that.

The car came to a creaking stop on the gravel road. The driver, George, hurriedly opened the car door for her. "Good luck, Miss." He muttered urgently under his breath, then got back in the car and sped off, leaving behind a cloud of dust as if escaping a plague.

Kaeya stood alone beneath the massive stone colonnade, his cheap white dress looking even more frail and laughable. She had never felt such utter loneliness.

The heavy oak door opened inward, and a butler in a perfect tailcoat appeared behind it. His face was a stern and expressionless mask, his gaze sweeping over Kaeya's skirt, worn shoes, and terrified expression, filled with undisguised contempt.

"Miss Harper, please come in." His voice was cold and smooth, like the marble floor beneath his feet.

She stepped inside, gasping in shock. The lobby is spacious, with a ceiling that reaches two stories. A dazzling black-and-white Italian marble checkerboard covers the floor, with priceless artworks hanging on the walls and gilded frames shimmering in the cold light. The air was filled with a faint scent of lemon polish and old books—sterile, lifeless, without a trace of warmth.

Butler Gable led her to a small reception room next to the main hall. "Wait here." He left this sentence and turned to leave, not even leaving a glass of water behind.

Kaeya sat on the edge of a stiff antique chair, hands tightly clasped on his knees. Silence pressed down on her like a tide, her heartbeat pounding between her ribs. In just a few minutes, it was stretched into eternity. This was hardly like welcoming a bride, but more like a prelude to a trial.

Finally, Gable appeared again, his expression still cold. "Mr. Norton is seeing you now."

She followed him down a long, echoing corridor. Portraits of the Norton family ancestors looked down upon her from the wall, and the gaze of the figure seemed to follow her all the way, scrutinizing her. With every step, she felt as if she was sinking deeper into a maze. Gable stopped in front of a heavy dark oak door, knocked crisply and decisively, then pushed the door open and gestured for her to enter.

The study was pitch black. Heavy curtains block out the afternoon sunlight completely, with the only light coming from a green banker's lamp on a huge desk. Kaeya couldn't see his face clearly, only a tall silhouette sitting in a wheelchair, hidden behind a desk. Those rumors are true.

The figure in the shadows didn't move, but she could feel that gaze falling on her—sharp, dissecting, like a surgeon's scalpel. She clutched the cheap fabric on her dress tightly, as if it were the only fragile shield against that invisible gaze.

She forced herself to speak, though it was only a trembling whisper: "Hello, I'm Kaea Harper—"

Her voice was interrupted by a voice coming from the darkness. The voice was icy cold, tinged with a hint of bitter mockery, sending chills down her spine. It was a voice accustomed to absolute authority, never needing to repeat itself.

The wheelchair slowly turned, pulling him out of the deepest shadows. The light illuminated his sharply defined face—handsome, yet pale to the point of no warmth. His clear blue eyes were like shattered blocks of ice. His gaze swept from the cheap lace at her neckline all the way to the hem of her simple skirt, a slow, contemptuous smile curling at the corner of his lips.

Kaeya's heart sank to rock bottom. In that contemptuous gaze, she understood everything. Why does Olivia pretend to be severely allergic, why does the driver show pity? She had already stepped into a trap.

"So," Duncan Norton said, his voice colder than the marble floor, colder than the air in the room, "You are the one." The Linwood family sent me a substitute to please me. That fifty-dollar stand-in. ”