The Billionaire's Unwanted Genius Bride

"Miss Crawford, step out of the line. You need to use the side service entrance for a secondary screening."

The head of security at the Hopkins Estate held Elissa Crawford's gold-embossed wedding invitation out of reach. Behind her, a line of Rolls-Royces idled beneath the early autumn sky. She stood beside a battered yellow cab, her thin beige trench coat whipping in the wind.

The moment the guard read her name, his polite smile disappeared.

Tonight was her stepsister Birdella Reed's wedding. Birdella was the daughter of Vivian, Hayward Hopkins's second wife, and had become Elissa's stepsister after their parents married.

Elissa, on the other hand, was Hayward's biological daughter from his first marriage. Hayward had married into the wealthy Crawford family and managed its business empire under his late wife's name. Yet Elissa had been treated as an embarrassment ever since Vivian entered the family.

Eight years ago, a scandal had destroyed Elissa's reputation overnight. A secretly leaked video had made it appear that she had willingly taken drugs and slept with several men. In reality, she had been drugged and framed. But before she could expose the truth, her enemies branded her mentally unstable and produced fabricated medical reports to support their claims.

Eager to bury the scandal, Hayward had used his influence to have his own daughter committed to a private psychiatric institution.

Even after her release, the label of a lunatic followed her everywhere.

Elissa didn't argue. The guard finally returned the invitation to her, and she stepped away from the gate, her fingers briefly brushing the raised white scars on her inner forearm.

She hadn't come here to beg for acceptance.

Turning away from the main entrance, she followed the narrow path toward the servants' quarters.

The service corridor smelled of bleach and damp stone. At the end, she pushed open the heavy oak doors leading into the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers flooded her vision, forcing her to close her eyes for a moment.

Her heart hammered. She drew a slow breath and counted backward from ten, grounding herself in the cold brass handle beneath her palm and the distant hum of the string quartet.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

The panic was real. So were the memories. But neither would control her tonight.

Near the champagne tower, three women in couture gowns noticed her and moved aside as if she carried a disease.

"Look who actually showed up," Helen Gibson called from across the room. As Alysia Gibson's mother and one of the family's most influential socialites, Helen had never hidden her contempt for Elissa. "The lunatic who spent eight years in a psychiatric ward still has the nerve to walk into Long Island society?"

Elissa picked up a glass of ice water and continued toward the shadows. Helen's daughter, Alysia, had been one of the people responsible for turning Elissa into a social outcast. To these people, Elissa wasn't a wronged daughter. She was the disgraced Crawford girl who had supposedly ruined her own life.

She had spent eight years learning how to survive people like Helen. Their insults were predictable. Their cruelty was even more so.

Sharp heels clicked against the marble. Birdella approached in her strapless white wedding gown, red wine in hand, with several socialites trailing behind her.

Two old piercing scars above Birdella's left earlobe caught the light as she smiled.

"Little sister, I'm so touched you got a pass from the mental hospital to attend my wedding."

She flicked her wrist, splashing wine onto Elissa's pale hand.

Elissa calmly took a napkin and wiped it away.

"If you drank less, your hands wouldn't shake."

Birdella's smile vanished. She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

"You notorious slut. Behave yourself today. Don't dirty up my wedding."

Elissa finally looked up. Her amber eyes settled on Birdella's face.

"Then stop spilling wine on me."

A few guests snickered. Birdella's cheeks flushed.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as Alysia Gibson approached in a white haute couture gown. A delicate brown mole beneath her right eye gave her an almost fragile appearance.

Alysia was not merely Birdella's wedding guest. She was also the woman who had helped orchestrate the scandal that ruined Elissa eight years ago. For years, she had been regarded as Kurt Stewart's future wife, although their relationship had never been formally announced.

"Elissa, have you been alright lately?" Alysia asked, her soft voice trembling just enough to attract sympathy. "If the crowd makes you uncomfortable, I can have someone take you somewhere quiet."

There it was again-that carefully rehearsed concern. Eight years ago, Alysia had worn the same innocent expression while helping convince everyone that Elissa was unstable.

Elissa's stomach tightened as she looked at the woman who had helped ruin her life.

"You're still as shameless as ever."

Alysia gasped and stumbled back, her eyes instantly filling with tears. Angry whispers broke out around them. Elissa watched without surprise. Alysia had always known how to cry before anyone thought to ask what had happened.

The ballroom doors suddenly swung open. The crowd fell silent as Hayward Hopkins entered in a tailored black tuxedo.

Elissa straightened. A flicker of hope rose in her amber eyes, quickly followed by dread.

When Hayward saw her face-the face of his late wife, Celine Crawford-his pupils contracted. He immediately looked away.

"Isn't that the former head of the Crawford family?" someone whispered. "I heard he considers his younger daughter the biggest stain on his bloodline."

Hayward ignored Elissa and turned to Alysia.

"Miss Gibson, I apologize for the unpleasantness."

Then he glanced at his daughter, his expression turning cold.

"If you cannot learn the manners of polite society, roll right back to your hospital ward."

Elissa felt her chest tighten. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, refusing to let her knees shake.

Vivian slipped her arm through Hayward's.

"Don't forget what you promised," she whispered. "Cause a scene today, and you won't get another cent of your allowance."

Elissa lowered her eyelashes.

"I'm fine. I'll stay in the corner."

Hayward snorted and walked away with Vivian and Birdella.

Elissa slipped behind a thick Roman pillar at the edge of the ballroom and kicked off her blistering heels. Her bare feet sank into the soft carpet.

For eight years, while everyone believed she was wasting away in a psychiatric institution, Elissa had rebuilt her life in silence. Under the alias Nova, she had pursued advanced economic research, managed offshore investments, and accumulated a fortune no one in either family knew existed.

Numbers had never lied to her. People had. And numbers had given her the means to build something they couldn't take away.

Suddenly, applause erupted as the wedding march began.

Elissa looked toward the altar. The groom was walking down the red carpet.

Vance.

Her fingers curled around the pillar.

Vance Sterling. The man marrying Birdella was more than just a familiar face from her past. He was one of the key figures connected to the incident that had destroyed Elissa's reputation eight years ago.

The sight of him tore open memories she had spent years trying to bury: blinding camera flashes, a dark basement, and the sickening smell of chemicals.