Flash Marriage To The Sinclair Heir

A cough rattled through Audrey's chest, raw and deep. She blinked, her vision swimming as she pushed herself up against the silk headboard. The penthouse was silent, the afternoon sun slanting through the floor-to-ceiling windows, dust motes dancing in the light.

Her throat felt like sandpaper.

She reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, her movements slow and heavy from the flu that had chained her to this bed for two days. Her fingers brushed against her phone, and the screen lit up.

Victoria Sterling, her good friend, made three phone calls. Four text messages.

"Audrey, pick up!"

"Where are you? Call me!"

"It's about my brother, Asher."

"Audrey, for God's sake, answer your phone! Now!"

Asher Sterling, her secret boyfriend of three years.

A knot of unease tightened in her stomach. She swiped open the last message, her thumb clumsy. Just as she did, Victoria's face popped up on the screen, a video call request. The urgency was a siren's wail.

She accepted.

Victoria's face was a mask of fury, her blonde hair slightly disheveled. The background was dark, pulsing with the low thrum of music and the chatter of a crowd. A bar.

"You finally picked up," Victoria snapped, her voice tight. "Don't tell me you don't know."

"Know what?" Audrey's voice was a hoarse whisper. "I've been sick, Vic. What's going on?"

"My brother, Asher. He's back."

Audrey frowned, confused. "No, he's not. He's in Zurich. He said the deal wouldn't close until next week."

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Victoria's lips. "Zurich? He's in downtown Manhattan, Audrey. At Silas. He's throwing a party."

The unease in Audrey's gut turned to ice. "A party? For what?"

Victoria's expression softened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of pity crossing her features before the anger returned. "He's celebrating. With your dear stepsister. They're making it official."

The words didn't make sense. It was like trying to read a foreign language. "Official? What are you talking about? There must be a mistake." She tried to defend him, the habit of the last three years ingrained in her. "He would have told me."

"Oh, Audrey," Victoria sighed, the sound laced with a sorrow that cut deeper than her anger. "Don't be naive. Just... just open Instagram. Look at his latest post."

Her heart began to pound. Her fingers felt numb as she fumbled, switching from the video call to the familiar purple and orange icon.

She didn't have to search.

It was the first thing in her feed. Posted ten minutes ago.

The photo was professionally taken, bathed in the warm, intimate glow of the bar. Asher stood tall and handsome in a tailored suit, his arm wrapped tightly around Isabelle Gray. Her stepsister. Isabelle was beaming, her hand resting on his chest, a diamond ring flashing on her finger like a shard of glass aimed directly at Audrey's heart. They were kissing, a celebratory, public kiss for the whole world to see.

But it was the caption that shattered her.

"She said yes. My past, present, and future. My one and only, Isabelle Gray."

The phone slipped from her nerveless fingers, landing silently on the plush rug.

Three years.

Three years of secret meetings, of sneaking in through service elevators, of holidays spent alone because he couldn't risk being seen with her. He'd called it protection. He'd said he was shielding her from the vicious New York press until the time was right.

Now she understood. She wasn't a treasure. She was a placeholder. A convenient stand-in, kept in the shadows while he waited for the real prize to become available.

She remembered how he'd pursued her, right after Isabelle had left for her final year at boarding school in Switzerland. He'd commented on her eyes, how they were the same shade of green as Isabelle's.

She remembered how his calls would become less frequent, his touch more distant, every time Isabelle came home for a break.

All the pieces, all the little hurts and confusing moments she had brushed aside, now clicked into place, forming a picture of breathtaking cruelty.

The grief came first, a tidal wave of humiliation. But then, something else surfaced. Anger.

She sat up, her spine straight. With a fierce, jerky movement, she wiped the tears from her face. Her eyes, reflected in the dark screen of the television across the room, were cold and hard.

She couldn't be weak. Not now.

Audrey's mind raced. All along, for Asher, she had refused the family's blind date. Now that Arthur had betrayed her, the trust shares her father left her would only gain control of the estate after she got married.

Audrey needs to find a weapon, a lifeline. Then she remembered. And then she remembered. An email from her mother, Laura, sent a week ago. An email she had dismissed as another one of her mother's pathetic attempts at social climbing.

An arranged meeting. A blind date.

She snatched the phone from the floor, her fingers flying through her inbox until she found it.

Julian Sinclair. 8 PM. Le Ciel.

She didn't recognize the name, but that didn't matter.

She found her mother's number and pressed call.

Laura picked up on the second ring.

Her voice clipped and already threaded with venom. "What now, Audrey? I was in the middle of something that actually matters."

"The meeting," Audrey said, her own voice startlingly calm, devoid of any emotion. "The one you arranged."

A pause stretched between them, thick with disdain. "That meeting. I assumed you'd buried your head in the sand as usual. Don't tell me you're finally considering it-or did you just call to waste more of my time?"

"I'll go," Audrey said, the words tasting like metal in her mouth. "Tonight."

There was a sharp, disbelieving exhale, almost a laugh. "Tonight? It's past seven, Audrey. You can't even manage to show up on time for a brunch I planned three weeks in advance, and now you expect everyone to jump the moment you snap your fingers? Do you ever listen to how entitled you sound?"

"I'm going," she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Tell him I'll be there."

Laura's voice sharpened to a blade. "You're going to ruin this, you know that, don't you? You'll walk in there with that same tragic, desperate expression and drag the family name through the mud all over-"

Audrey hung up before the words could finish their work.

The decision was made. A reckless, insane, desperate decision.