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Elena Vargas never imagined her sister's wedding day would turn into her own.
She stood in the ornate dressing room of the Valerio estate, the silk of the bridal gown clinging to her like a second skin. The gown was never meant for her. It had been tailored for her sister, Isabella—the perfect daughter, the one groomed for high society, the one who was supposed to marry into the Valerio empire and unite two of the most powerful families in the country.
But Isabella had disappeared. Vanished hours before the ceremony, leaving nothing behind but a hastily scrawled note:
I'm sorry. I can't do this.
The world had spiraled after that. Elena's mother had screamed, her father had threatened to disown Isabella, and the groom's family—specifically, Alessandro Valerio—had demanded answers. Fast.
And then, amid the chaos, the impossible was suggested.
"Elena will marry him," her mother had said, her voice cold and hard, as if the decision had already been made. "She looks enough like Isabella. And we will not humiliate ourselves."
Elena had been too stunned to protest.
Which was how she now stood in the bride's room, staring at her reflection in the mirror, heart pounding in her chest like a war drum.
The door creaked open.
"Elena."
The voice was deep. Commanding. Alessandro.
She turned slowly, eyes meeting his in the mirror before she fully faced him.
He was as beautiful as he was terrifying—six-foot-three with broad shoulders and sharp cheekbones, his black tuxedo molded to his body like armor. His dark eyes, nearly black, studied her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"You're not Isabella," he said quietly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
"No," she whispered, fingers curling into the fabric of her gown. "She ran."
There was a long silence. Then—
"And you agreed to take her place."
"I didn't agree." She straightened her shoulders, willing herself not to cower under his gaze. "I was told I had to."
A flicker of something passed through his eyes. Anger? Amusement? It was hard to tell.
"You had a choice," he said. "You could've said no."
"And let our families go to war over a failed wedding?" Her voice cracked. "I didn't have a real choice."
Another pause. Then he crossed the room in two long strides, stopping just a foot away from her.
Elena's heart tripped.
"You're mine now," Alessandro said, his voice low, almost a growl. "You said yes. That means something to me."
His possessiveness caught her off guard.
"I'm not her," she said again, softer this time.
"I know. And I don't care." His hand brushed her cheek, surprisingly gentle. "You're mine. That's all that matter now.