The Substitute Bride Who Stole the Alpha's Cold Heart

Eryn POV:

For eighteen years, the Sinclair family kept me locked in their attic, treating me worse than a stray dog while their precious daughter lived like a princess.

Then, they suddenly barged into my room with a desperate demand: I had to take my sister's place and marry Alpha Brandon Ewing, the son of the Alpha King.

He was known across the Dominion as a monster with half his face disfigured and both legs crippled—someone who would undoubtedly torture and kill a wolfless Omega like me within a week.

The Sinclairs didn't care. They planned to let me die, then extort compensation from Brandon in the name of grief.

When I arrived at the Alpha's magnificent estate, his servants and guests immediately tried to humiliate me. They all thought I was just a pathetic sacrifice, a weak pawn meant to be broken and discarded by everyone.

But they had no idea who they were dealing with.

Faced with all this, I didn't cry. Instead, I calmly extorted two hundred thousand silver sovereigns from the Sinclairs, and now I walked up to the Alpha's impenetrable iron gates and ripped a one‑ton granite statue from the ground.

With a single swing, I smashed their grand entrance to pieces.

I stepped over the ruins, ready to show my terrifying new husband exactly what kind of beast he had just married.

***

The attic door slammed open, rattling in its frame.

I didn't bother to look up from the splintered wooden bed. Marcus and Cassandra Sinclair, my adoptive parents, swept in. Their faces plastered with smiles so fake they could have been made of plastic. They smelled of expensive perfume and desperation.

I stayed put, chewing on a piece of straw I'd found near the window, and casually picked at my teeth with it.

"Eryn, darling," Cassandra cooed, her voice dripping with honey that couldn't hide the poison beneath. She reached for my hand.

I shifted away, just enough for her fingers to grasp at empty air. The smile on her face tightened for a fraction of a second before she recovered.

Marcus cleared his throat, puffing out his chest in that way he did when he was about to say something important. "Eryn, we've always considered you part of this family."

A lie.

"And as family," he continued, "we sometimes have to make sacrifices for the greater good."

I took the straw from my mouth and flicked it toward the dusty floor.

"Spit it out, Marcus," I said, my voice flat. "Don't waste my time."

His face flushed a dull red, a vein pulsing in his temple. He wasn't used to being spoken to this way, especially not by me, the stray they'd locked in the attic at the edge of their territory for eighteen years.

He choked on his next words, so Cassandra took over, her practiced tears welling up on command.

"It's your sister, Lilith," she sobbed, dabbing at her dry eyes with a silk handkerchief. "She's so... delicate. So frightened."

She painted a picture of my dear sister, trembling in her lavish bedroom, terrified of her fate. Lilith was supposed to be mated to Alpha Brandon Ewing of the Obsidian Fang Pack today. Brandon had been given in adoption to the Alpha King when he was very young. Though he was the King's nephew by blood, he was raised as a son in every way that mattered. Undoubtedly, this was an alliance to secure the Sinclairs' position.

"She can't do it, Eryn," Cassandra wailed. "She can't marry that... that crippled, abusive monster!"

Monster. The word hung in the air. A flicker of something dark and amused curled my lips, but I hid it before they could see.

"She says he's a beast, disfigured and cruel," Cassandra continued, her voice rising with manufactured hysteria. "You're her older sister. It is your duty to protect her, to sacrifice for this family."

I finally sat up, slow and deliberate. Dust motes danced in the single beam of light slicing through the grimy window. I brushed off my worn trousers and swept my eyes over the two of them, these master performers.

"So," I said, my voice dangerously soft. "Let me get this straight."

I paused, letting them hang on the words.

"You want me, the 'mutt' you've left to rot on the edge of your territory, to take the place of your precious, pure-blooded daughter?"

The word 'mutt' hit Marcus like a physical blow. His face contorted with rage.

"Watch your tongue!" he snarled. "This is your responsibility!"

A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. It was a quiet sound, but it echoed with years of contempt. I stood and walked to the window, my back to them. Below, the manicured gardens of the Sinclair estate sprawled out, a paradise I was never allowed to enter.

"Responsibility?" I asked, barely a whisper. "Where was your responsibility when I was treated like a servant in this house? Where was it when Lilith stole the scraps of food from my plate because she thought it was funny?"

Cassandra's face went pale. She had no answer. There was none to give.

I turned back, and for the first time, they saw the glint of steel in my eyes. The lazy, sullen girl was gone, replaced by something sharp and calculating.

"You're fortunate that I'm feeling gracious today, so, I'll do it," I said.

Relief washed over their faces. They thought they had won.

"But I have a condition."

Hope flickered in their eyes, probably expecting me to ask for a new dress or a new room in the estate. I held up two fingers.

"Two hundred thousand silver sovereigns," I said, my voice calm and even.

Marcus stared, mouth hanging open. "How much?"

"Two hundred thousand," I repeated, enunciating each syllable. "I want a silver note that can be cashed at any bank in the capital. Consider it back pay for the years of servitude. And the price for my life."

Cassandra shrieked, her mask of grief shattering into pure rage. "You're insane! You greedy, ungrateful bitch!"

I just smiled, cold and sharp. "Being shackled to a violent Alpha means I could be dead by next week. Two hundred thousand silver sovereigns to buy a life that might be very short seems like a bargain to me. The money, or Lilith's life—which matters more? The choice is yours."

I could see the gears turning in Marcus's head. He was weighing the cost of the money against the cost of a broken alliance with the Ewings. Public shame against private expense.

I knew what he was thinking: promise the money, then take it back once I was gone.

"And don't even think about backing out," I added, my voice dropping to a low warning. "The two hundred thousand has to be in the account before I take a single step out of this room. The ceremony is soon, isn't it?"

I walked back to my bed and lay down, closing my eyes. The negotiation was over.

Marcus stared at me with a new expression. He clenched his jaw, mind made up.

He took a deep, shaky breath.

"Fine," he ground out. "I agree."