The Devil Billionaire Spoils Me Rotten After I Took My Sister’s Place

The black SUV idled at the curb, its engine a low, menacing growl.

"Get in," the driver demanded. He did not open the door. He did not offer to take my suitcase.

"I can manage, thank you," I shot back, my tone heavy with sarcasm.

He ignored me, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

I threw my bag onto the leather seat and climbed into the back. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing me inside a soundproof tomb.

No one from the Grey household stepped onto the porch to watch me leave. My father remained hidden in his study. Bella and Lucas were likely still celebrating their victory in the library.

"Where are we going?" I asked the back of the driver's head.

"The Voss estate," he replied gruffly.

"I know that. Where is it?"

"Out of the city."

He offered nothing else. The vehicle sped through the neon-lit streets, eventually trading smooth pavement for a winding, unlit dirt road. Thick trees swallowed the moonlight, plunging the world into total darkness.

Forty minutes later, massive iron gates loomed in the headlights. They parted automatically, revealing a towering stone structure that looked less like a home and more like a medieval prison.

The SUV jerked to a halt.

"Out," the driver ordered.

I grabbed my handle and pushed the door open. The night wind whipped across my face, biting through my thin sweater. I pulled my suitcase from the seat and stepped onto the gravel.

"Leave the bag," a sharp voice rang out.

An older woman stood at the top of the stone steps. She wore a severe black dress, her gray hair pulled tightly against her scalp.

"My clothes are in here," I argued, gripping the handle tighter.

"Mr. Voss does not allow outside items into the main house. Drop it."

"I am not walking in there with nothing."

The woman descended two steps. Her dark eyes locked onto mine. "You are a tribute, Miss Grey. You own nothing. If you prefer to freeze on the driveway, suit yourself. Otherwise, drop the luggage and follow me."

I weighed my options. Fighting over a few worn jeans and oversized shirts seemed entirely pointless. I released the handle. The suitcase tipped over, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

"Follow me," she commanded, turning her back.

I marched up the steps and entered the Voss estate.

The foyer was cavernous and freezing. No flowers. No warm lighting. Just bare stone walls and a massive iron chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling.

A small wooden table sat in the center of the room. A single piece of parchment rested on top, flanked by a black fountain pen.

"What is this?" I pointed at the paper.

"Your wedding," the woman stated. "I am Mrs. Gable. I manage this household."

I scanned the empty room. "There is no officiant. There are no witnesses."

"You do not require witnesses for a transfer of property." Mrs. Gable tapped a long, bony finger against the bottom of the page. "Sign on the blank line."

"Where is the groom?" I asked, refusing to step closer. "If he wants a wife, he can show his face."

"You do not make demands here," Mrs. Gable countered. "Mr. Voss does not wish to see you."

"Then I am not signing it." I crossed my arms over my chest.

Mrs. Gable did not flinch. She simply pulled a small silver phone from her pocket. "Shall I call Arthur Grey? I can inform him that the deal is off. I believe he mentioned something about a care facility for your mother?"

My jaw clenched. They all knew my weak point. Bella had thoroughly briefed them.

"Give me the pen," I snapped.

She handed it over.

I leaned over the table. At the bottom of the thick parchment, a harsh, jagged signature already occupied the right side. *Ethan Voss*. The ink looked fresh.

I pressed the nib to the paper and signed my name next to his. No white dress. No vows. Just a business transaction in a freezing hallway.

"Excellent." Mrs. Gable snatched the paper away. "You are now Mrs. Voss. Not that the title will do you much good."

"What does that mean?"

"It means no one expects you to survive the weekend." She gestured toward a dark corridor. "Move. Your quarters are in the west wing."

I followed her down the shadowy hall. "Are you threatening me, Mrs. Gable?"

"I am stating a fact." She didn't bother looking back. "The entire city is currently placing bets on your demise. The Voss syndicate does not tolerate weakness, and the Grey family sent us their weakest link."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know you are an illegitimate child." She stopped in front of a heavy oak door and unlocked it with a brass key. "And I know Ethan Voss destroys everything he touches."

She pushed the door open, revealing a sparse, dimly lit bedroom.

"Get inside," she instructed.

I stepped over the threshold.

"Do not leave this room," Mrs. Gable warned. "If you wander the halls, the guards will shoot you. Mr. Voss will summon you when he is ready."

The door slammed shut. The lock clicked into place.

I stood alone in the center of the room. A massive four-poster bed dominated the space. Heavy velvet curtains blocked the windows. The air smelled like dust and cold iron.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled it out. A text message from an unknown number glowed on the screen. It contained a link and a short message.

*Check the odds, sister.*

Bella.

I tapped the link. It opened a private browser page for the city's elite underground forum.

A massive banner flashed across the top: *The Beast Takes a Bride. How Long Will the Grey Girl Last?*

I scrolled down. Hundreds of comments flooded the screen.

*She won't make it to sunrise.*

*I heard he locked his last associate in a cage with hunting dogs. Fifty grand says she jumps out a window by Saturday.*

*Arthur Grey is a genius. He tossed the trash out to save his real daughter.*

My thumb hovered over the screen. The entire city viewed me as a walking corpse. They were actively laughing at my execution.

The phone buzzed again. An incoming call from Bella.

I swiped to answer. "Are you enjoying the show?"

Bella's bright, cruel laughter filled my ear. "Oh, Serena. It is the event of the season. Lucas and I are tracking the bets right now. We just poured a vintage Dom Pérignon."

"I hope it burns your throat," I replied, keeping my tone perfectly flat.

"Don't be a sore loser," she taunted. "You chose this."

"You forced this."

"Details." Bella sighed dramatically. "Lucas wants to say hello."

A rustling sound came through the speaker, followed by Lucas's voice. "Serena? Are you still alive?"

"Disappointed?" I asked.

"Just surprised." He sounded incredibly smug. "Listen, I want to thank you. Your father just transferred the first block of shares to my account. My startup is completely debt-free."

"You sold me for stock options."

"I secured my future," Lucas corrected. "You were just the currency. Try not to scream too loud when Voss gets his hands on you. It ruins the aesthetic."

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. Instead, a genuine, bubbling laugh escaped my lips.

Silence stretched on the other end of the line.

"Are you having a psychotic break?" Bella demanded, her voice losing its playful edge.

"No," I answered, pacing toward the velvet curtains. "I am just realizing how pathetic you are. You need a man to fight your battles, and he needs your daddy's money to pay his debts."

"Watch your mouth," Lucas growled.

"Or what? You'll sell me again?" I mocked. "You sent me into the devil's house. You gave me his name. I am a Voss now. When I figure out how to survive him, I am going to use his power to crush you both."

"You are delusional," Lucas spat.

"Keep the bed warm, Lucas," I whispered. "I am coming for the Grey empire next."

I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the mattress.

Let them laugh. Let the city place their bets. I had nothing left to lose, which made me the most dangerous person in this game.

I walked over to the window and yanked the heavy curtains apart. Moonlight flooded the room, illuminating the dusty floorboards.

Suddenly, the doorknob rattled.

I spun around.

The lock disengaged with a loud snap.

The heavy oak door pushed open slowly, revealing the pitch-black hallway.

A towering silhouette stepped into the doorway, blocking out the dim light from the corridor. Broad shoulders. A tailored suit.

"You are in my room," a voice rumbled, deep and rough as shattered glass.