Your Regret Isn't My Problem

My fiancé's older brother was into girls with tiny waists. He wanted to marry my foster sister—the one with the twenty-one-inch waist.

Their wedding? Same day Eric and I were supposed to get hitched.

When he found out, Eric begged me to swap with Briana.

"Lena, it's always been Briana. If your family hadn't found you, she wouldn't have had to play fake heiress, and I wouldn't be stuck with you."

I stayed quiet. He kept digging.

"Chill. My brother won't even touch you. Once the dust settles, I'll bring you back—as my side piece."

Staring at that fake, slimy smile, I felt a little out of it.

Last time, I told him no—and still ended up married to him, beaten until I died.

Then I woke up. Same day. Same plea from Eric.

This time, I handed them exactly what they wanted. "Fine. I'll marry him."

Eric lit up like he'd won.

Didn't last long. Next thing I knew, he was out in the rain, on his knees, clutching his head, sobbing, begging me to leave his brother and come back.

Borevia City, Carmoria.

"You have to be there."

Eric Santoro popped open a velvet case, rocking that same smug face he wore when he asked me to switch grooms.

"This is your parents' heirloom," he said—cool, commanding. "You want it? Come to Briana's party tonight."

It was the last thing my real parents gave me before they died. Eric had tricked me into handing it over. I was taking it back.

I dropped my gaze, hiding the ice in my eyes. "Fine. I'll go."

A smug smile flickered across Eric's face as he grabbed his coat and walked out.

The Santoro engagement was mine from day one. I'd been stolen at birth, and in their grief, my real parents adopted Briana.

After my adoptive parents died, I bounced around the orphanage system.

At fifteen, the Leone family finally tracked me down. Everyone said Eric was my future.

And I mistook him for someone from my past.

He backed me up when people called me a country bumpkin. Showed up with birthday surprises. Stuck close after the crash that took my real parents.

After that, I followed him like he was everything.

But somewhere along the way, his attention started drifting—to Briana.

We were born on the same day, but he only ever remembered hers.

I should've seen it coming. Even back then.

***

The party was at the priciest country club in the city.

Eric led Briana right into the spotlight, grinning like he'd hit the jackpot, wine glass in hand.

Then a server handed him a deep brown leather box. He popped it open—limited-edition watch, ladies' style.

"Happy birthday, Briana."

He strapped it on her wrist.

"Whoa! Wasn't that at the Geneva Watch Fair last year? I heard there's only five of those in the world!" someone gasped.

"Eric spoils Briana so much! Lena seriously needs to quit clinging to an engagement that was clearly meant for Briana."

I let out a bitter laugh under my breath. That watch? It was supposed to be my birthday gift.

Now it was shining on Briana's wrist.

I pushed the door open. The room fell silent.

Every head turned—judging, smirking, eating it up.

"Well, well," someone drawled. "Isn't that the Leone family's REAL heiress? What's this—staking her claim?"

"Please," another scoffed. "She's just here to embarrass herself. Eric's in love with Briana. He wants HER."

Briana shot me a smug smile. She flicked her wrist, letting the watch catch the light.