Billionaires Accidental Wife

The walls of my father's study used to be lined with framed awards and magazine covers. I said as I looked the room over and over again.

Now, they're just dusty reminders of what used to be.

He sits across from us, behind the desk that once ruled a business empire. His fingers tap the surface, steady and slow. Every tap is a countdown. And when it stops, the silence becomes unbearable.

"I've made the decision," he says.

His voice is tired, but his tone is final.

He doesn't look at me.

He looks at my sister.

My twin.

Eliora.

"You'll marry Adrian Donavan."

Just like that.

Not a request. A command.

Eliora doesn't flinch. She crosses her legs, raises one brow, and says, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"No, I didn't. I thought I heard you say you're marrying me off to a man I don't know, like it's 1823."

My father sighs and stands. His suit is rumpled. He hasn't shaved. This isn't the man who once dined with prime ministers.

"This is the deal," he says. "Donavan invests fifty million into Vaughn Corp. In return, we merge families. Marriage. It's clean. Simple."

"It's disgusting," Eliora snaps. "You're selling your daughter."

"I'm saving my company," he fires back. "You think I enjoy this? We're drowning, and I finally have a lifeline. Donavan doesn't want random shares. He wants blood connection."

"And you offered mine?"

"You're not a child. You know how these things work."

"Do I?"

He slams a folder onto the desk. The contract. Signed. Sealed.

"I already agreed," he says. "You'll do it. Or you'll pack your things and leave this house. I won't support disloyalty."

"Damn right you won't," she mutters.

I sit frozen. Watching. Breathing. Trying not to take sides even though everything in me wants to scream.

Eliora stands, fists clenched.

"So that's it? My life's just a transaction?"

My father doesn't answer.

Which is answer enough.

Later that night, in our room, she throws open every drawer she owns.

Clothes fly. Shoes hit walls. Zippers rip. Her frustration is loud.

"You're really going through with it?" I ask.

"I don't have a choice," she says. "And neither do you. This affects all of us."

"You could say no."

"And be disowned? No thanks. I like eating."

I help her fold a blouse, but she snatches it back.

"I'm not marrying him because I want to. I'm marrying him because Dad failed. We're paying for his mistakes."

"You're doing it for the family," I say, trying to comfort her.

"No," she whispers. "I'm doing it because he left me no other option."

Vaughn Corp is crumbling. My father is desperate. Godwin Donavan-richer, colder, sharper-offered a bailout disguised as an alliance. His son, Adrian, doesn't need a partner. He needs a wife to keep the Donavan legacy in the bloodline. Eliora became the price for survival. There was no courtship. No choice. No warmth. Just a dress, a venue, and a signature.