The Disabled Tycoon's Lethal Substitute Bride

Chapter 5

Word Count: 650 | Released on: 03/08/2026

sica was at the Rush mansion, excitedly trying o

len as if it were a treasure. "Quick, use this. T

powder with her face cream and applied a thick l

n on her skin but dismissed it as t

"Miss Eleonora, Mr. Kemp requests your return. There is a charity

r from Damien. Her trip to t

as already waiting. Damien had prepared a black evening go

s perfectly complemented her cool, aloof temperame

ing of the city's elite. It was Eleonora's first p

His face was pale, his expression cold, and he off

chair, playing the part of

g about this sudden "Mrs. Kemp," their eyes fi

her throughout the event. When someone proposed a toast, he drank his

and the unfriendly gazes from all around. Yet, a graceful smile

g to see if she would lose her composur

nor meant his

gown, on the arm of a wealthy he

lights, but a closer look would r

otted Eleonora and

s and the powerful aura of the man beside her-even i

nd started walking toward them, read

with a hint of surprise. This woman

ching, a glint of amusement in his

, and the red dots on her nec

a glass of water, not

dismissed it as the room being t

le look that masked her sharp edges, making

oment. He was beginning to think this marriage mig

dn't turn. She knew the real p

st fire of the night. She stopped before them, a fake smi

Chapter End

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The Disabled Tycoon's Lethal Substitute Bride

Tabbie Platt Romance

“I was the despised stepdaughter of the Rush family, treated like dirt under my stepmother's designer heels while secretly investigating my biological mother's suspicious death. One day, my stepmother slapped a marriage contract on my worn desk. I was to be sacrificed in my stepsister's place to marry Damien Kemp, a notoriously violent, wheelchair-bound heir who wasn't expected to live past thirty. "If you dare to resist, I'll leak the scandals about your dead mother to every media outlet." My stepsister filmed my misery for her followers, laughing as they threw a thrift-store reject at me to use as a wedding dress. They forced me to endure humiliating etiquette lessons just to mock my clumsiness, and even picked my bedroom lock to steal a precious herbal skin formula I had mixed, hoping to use it to shine at an upcoming high-society gala. In their eyes, I was just a pathetic, helpless puppet, destined to be buried alongside a dying invalid so they could secure a massive corporate investment. What they didn't know was that the formula they greedily stole was a carefully crafted trap that would soon destroy my stepsister's face. And when I finally met my "dying" billionaire husband, I didn't cower. Instead, I looked at his supposedly paralyzed legs, diagnosed the exact rare neurotoxin destroying his body, and offered him a thirty-million-dollar deal to tear all our enemies down.”