Why Can’t I Be the Bride?

[Rose's POV]

I walked out of the hotel.

The sunlight stung my eyes.

I flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address.

Then I slumped into the back seat.

My phone buzzed.

A notification from the bank.

The number stared back at me.

One million dollars.

Cold and sharp on the screen.

That was the price for selling myself for one night.

No.

That was the price Alistair Black sold me for.

I turned off the phone and tossed it aside.

I looked out the window.

The cars, the people, the city—none of it mattered to me.

My throat felt tight.

It was anger.

It was nausea.

I actually believed—for one second—that he came to save me.

My "father."

What a joke.

And that man—James Watson.

The weight of him on top of me.

The feel of his skin on mine.

Just thinking about it made me shiver.

But what I hated…

Wasn't his violence.

What I hated more…

Was my own damn body.

The way it responded.

The way I felt things I shouldn't have.

Even though he thought I was someone else.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood.

The car stopped in front of my house.

I paid the driver and got out.

I took a deep breath before unlocking the door.

Mom was at home.

She was on the couch, watching TV.

She turned around when she heard the door.

"Rose? You're back? Why didn't you come home last night?"

She looked worried.

Before I could answer, the TV anchor's voice cut through.

"... Sources confirm that James Watson, heir to the Watson Group, is set to marry Lilith Black, daughter of the Black family. This powerful union will reshape the business landscape of the city…"

Two large photos flashed on the screen.

One was his face. Cold. Handsome.

James Watson.

The other—

Was my twin sister, Lilith.

I went cold all over.

So it's a marriage alliance.

So it was him last night.

And I—

I was nothing but a pawn in a filthy deal.

"Rose? What's wrong?" Mom noticed something was off.

She stood up.

"You look so pale."

My heart was pounding.

I snapped out of it.

I walked over and hugged her from behind.

I buried my face in her shoulder.

Only her arms could I keep from falling apart.

"Mom," I said, my voice shaking.

"God, you scared me," she said, patting my hand. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said. My voice was muffled. "I just missed you."

Another lie.

"Last night… my classmates took me out to celebrate the job offer. I drank too much. My phone died, soI stayed over at a friend's place."

I could feel her eyes on me.

I didn't dare look up.

"Don't do that again. I worried all night."

She believed me.

"I won't."

She sat me down and looked at my face.

"You look awful. Eat something and get some sleep."

I looked at her. Then I said,

"Mom, let's move."

"Move? Why?"

"I don't want to live here anymore."

I sound firmly.

"I just got a job at PwC accounting firm. The salary's good. We can afford somewhere better. Downtown. Safe. Close to the office. I can sleep in a little more."

I had money now.

We could start over.

She hesitated for a second, then nodded.

"Alright. Whatever you say."

"Let's go look at apartments tomorrow."

"I didn't sleep well. I'm going to rest a bit."

I escaped to my room.

Locked the door.

That dress—

I tore it to pieces.

I threw the shreds into the trash.

I ran into the bathroom.

I turned the shower on full blast.

Hot water slammed down on me.

I scratched my skin with my nails.

My neck. My collarbone.

The bruises were still there.

I scrubbed again and again until my skin turned red.

I wanted to wash off his scent.

His touch.

Every trace of him.

But I couldn't.

The images kept replaying in my head.

Over and over.

Getting clearer each time.

After the shower, I threw myself on the bed.

I pulled the blanket over my head.

Still couldn't sleep.

One million dollars.

Bought my first night.

And broke whatever was left between me and Alistair Black.

And I ended up in bed with James Watson.

He was rough.

But to be fair, he was good.

I actually enjoyed it.

So maybe I didn't lose.

Maybe it was just like hiring a top male escort.

A one-time celebration before my new life began.

Maybe it was just a dream.

I'm starting at PwC next week.

My life is just beginning.

But no matter how I tried to convince myself—

That shame wouldn't leave.

Being willing and being forced—

Those are two completely different things.

And I wasn't even myself.

I was Lilith's stand-in.

Why her?

I hadn't seen her in years, but her scandals were always in the news.

How could she be better than me?

More obedient? More "worthy"?

If she was so great—

Why send me to take her place last night?

Something was off.

Alistair's words came back to me—

That I'd never be as good as Lilith.

I clenched my fists.

Why?

Why can't I be the one to marry James Watson?

Just because I'm a "jinx"?

That thought scared me.

I opened my eyes.

Stared at the ceiling.

Reached out for my phone.

Opened the browser.

Typed one letter at a time:

James Watson.

Who are you, really?