MARRIED BY MISTAKE

MARRIED BY MISTAKE

Nicolet Hale

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She never meant to become his wife. Aria Hale had only stepped into the marriage registry to deliver her sister's documents. Yet somehow, she walked out as the legal wife of Leon Mercer-the city's most ruthless billionaire. One signature. One mistake. One furious husband determined to make her regret it. "You trapped me," he growls, ice lacing every word. "You'll pay for this." But Aria isn't who he thinks she is. She carries secrets he could never imagine-an identity carefully hidden, a fortune he never suspected, and a strength that refuses to break under his cruelty. He assumes she's a gold-digger. She lets him believe it. When he insists she stay until the divorce is finalized, she agrees-but only because she has her own plans. And then he notices. The way she never begs. The subtle power in her laughter. The way other men glance at her... and how his chest tightens in ways he can't explain. By the time the truth comes crashing down-when he finally discovers who she really is-it's too late. Aria is gone. Now the hunter becomes the hunted. The billionaire married the wrong woman by mistake. And losing her will be his greatest regret.

Chapter 1 The Accidental Bride

It never occurred to Aria Hale that her sister's wedding day would end with her own marriage license. Pushing through the glass doors of the New York City Marriage Bureau, she held the manila envelope to her chest. Immediately, chaos erupted: clerks yelling names, couples yelling over paperwork, and phones ringing nonstop. A bride in a discolored white gown was yelling at her groom about his mother while a baby cried close to the fountain.

Aria wanted to disappear-one job. Deliver the documents. Leave. Invisible, like always. "Next!" a clerk barked, waving impatiently from behind the scratched plexiglass. Aria stepped forward. "Hi, I'm here to-" "Name?" "I'm not-" "NAME?" "Aria Hale. I'm just delivering-"Ariana Hale!" Her stomach dropped.

"No, that's my sister. I'm Aria, not-" "You responded to the name. Good enough." The clerk shoved a clipboard through the slot. "Fill this out. Your groom's already twenty minutes late. If he doesn't show in ten, you forfeit your slot."

"But I'm not getting married!" Aria's voice cracked. The clerk finally glanced up, expression neutral. "Everyone's nervous, honey. Just breathe and sign when he arrives." Aria checked her phone. Nothing. No texts. No calls. Just a curt message from her sister: ARIANA: Emergency. Can't make it. Leave the papers. Thanks! No apology. No explanation. Just an order.

She typed and erased responses she would never send while her fingers lingered over the screen. After twenty-four years of being forgotten, invisible, and cleaning up other people's messes, she was rewarded with a room full of strangers who couldn't even pronounce her name correctly. The doors burst open.

Every head turned. A man walked in like a storm given human form. Broad shoulders, dark hair, grey eyes, sharp enough to pierce steel. Leon Mercer. Billionaire. CEO. The man her sister was supposed to marry.

He stopped in front of her. "You're late." Aria opened her mouth. Closed it. Wrong person. Wrong sister. Wrong everything. "Save it. Let's get this over with." He grabbed her elbow. Warm. Firm. Unyielding. Trapped. "Wait, you don't-" "Ariana Hale and Leon Mercer!" The clerk slid the papers across. "Sign now." Her hand shook. She looked down at the certificate. Aria Hale. Not Ariana. Not her sister. Her own name.

She froze. Her heart pounded in her chest. "Sir, I think-" "Think later. Sign now."

His Patek Philippe gleamed in the overhead light as he checked his watch. Aria's mind raced. Run? Scream? Call her parents? But who would believe her? Who would take her side when she had just signed the papers herself? Her hand moved on its own. Aria Hale.

The pen scratched across the page. The clerk stamped it with a heavy thump. "Congratulations. You're married." Time slowed. Every sound dulled. Leon's grey eyes lifted to hers. Cold. Furious. Ice. "You're not Ariana." "I tried to tell you-" "You signed." He held up the certificate. "Aria Hale."

With a low voice that cut like a knife through the chaos, he said, "You trapped me.". "You will regret this every day until I am free of you. Aria had a burning throat. She was on the verge of tears, but she held back.

Not here. Not now. "I didn't trap you. You didn't even look at what you were signing." He ignored her. Shoved the certificate into his jacket. His other hand gripped her wrist-not cruel, not gentle, just possessive. "You're coming with me," he said, phone pressed to his ear. "Lawyer. Meet me now." Outside, a black Mercedes waited.

The driver already held the door. Aria's mind raced. She could run. She could scream. She could call her family-but who would listen? Who would believe her? She looked at Leon. The fury simmered beneath his controlled exterior. The man hated her. And legally, she was now his wife. The door closed.

She felt the smooth, cold leather against her back. She took a sharp breath. "Go. The harsh, blinding sunlight hit her face. She caught a glimpse of herself in the window's tint. Aria Hale. Not Ariana. Nobody's second choice. She had recently unintentionally wed a billionaire who hated her. She also didn't know how she would survive what was about to happen.

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I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

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