My Aunt Refused the Billionaire, So They Made Me His Bride

In that moment, Aria felt like Silas was a walking menace. No, she told herself. She wasn’t about to let him cast a shadow over her whole life. Pulling up courage she didn’t know she had, she clenched her fists and met his stare dead-on. “Silas, can we talk?”

“I’ll be right outside. Call me if you need anything.” Seth shot Aria a worried look, then slipped out of the room.

The room went cold as Silas stared straight ahead, his voice like ice. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Aria drew a breath, lifted her chin, and let her determination show plain on her face. “You don’t like me, and I don’t have feelings for you. This marriage was a mistake. Can we—”

Before she could finish, a servant hurried in holding out a phone. “Sir, it’s for Miss Aria.”

Aria glanced at Silas. His face gave her nothing. She took the phone and stepped aside. “Hello?”

Her aunt’s voice rushed through the line. “Aria, don’t blame me. I was worried. I had to take precautions. But rest assured—as long as you stay with the Collins family, I’ll make sure your mother is taken care of. If not…”

“What are you planning?” Aria’s voice dropped low. She gripped the phone so hard her knuckles went white.

“If anything happens to your mother, I can’t make any promises.”

“You…” Fury roared through Aria. It took everything in her not to scream down the line.

She forced herself back together and pressed on. “Where is my mother? I need to see her, or I won’t believe you. I’m willing to risk everything if I have to!”

“Look at your screen.”

Aria saw a live video feed of her mother. Her aunt even angled the timestamp into view to prove it was current.

After years of studying medicine, hoping to cure her mother, Aria knew her mother was her one weakness. She swallowed back the tears burning her eyes and finally whispered, trembling, “Fine…”

She ended the call, blinked the tears away, and turned back. She expected Silas to be gone. He was still there, unmoved.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, leaving her speechless.

She’d planned to talk about ending this—whatever this was between them—but the call had drained every last bit of urgency out of her. “Nothing.”

She looked down at the mud dried along the hem of her gown. She had spent the night feverish in someone else’s house, and no one had thought to bring her suitcase upstairs. The dress felt less like wedding clothes than evidence of what they had done to her.

Silas’s gaze cut through her, assessing her from head to toe. He had heard vicious rumors about Fiona’s school years and let them color his view of her whole family. Looking at Aria now, he reached for the same easy contempt instead of asking what had actually happened to her. It was a cruel assumption, and one he would regret.

“Filthy.”

“Filthy? What’s filthy?” Aria looked down and saw the soiled hem. His fault. Hadn’t he been the one who threw her into the flowerbed? She didn’t even have a change of clothes.

Before she could speak, Silas slammed the door shut with a bang. His cold voice echoed from the hallway. “Have housekeeping clean this room!”

So this was Silas’s room. No wonder it felt dark and suffocating—just like him.

“Miss Aria, your room is this way. Please follow me.” A maid led her to the room next to Silas’s.

Aria was relieved not to share a room with him. The maid opened the guest wardrobe and took out a sealed set of cotton loungewear, then laid a soft bathrobe on the bed. “These should fit while I have your luggage brought up,” she said. “I’ll send the gown to be cleaned.” Aria thanked her, showered, and changed into a plain white shirt and loose cotton trousers. Dry fabric against clean skin steadied her. Whatever this family expected, she did not have to face them in last night’s mud.

Downstairs, a commotion stirred. Then a maid knocked on her door. “Miss Aria, Mr. Collins has returned from the care facility. He wishes to see you.”

Mr. Collins? That would be Jericho Collins, father of the Collins brothers.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, Aria hurried downstairs. An older man in his sixties sat on the couch. Beside him was a regal-looking woman in her forties, dripping in opulent emerald jewelry. That was Silas’s mother, Eloise Collins.

Eloise was more than twenty years younger than Jericho. Rumor had it she’d gone to great lengths to marry him after his first wife died—a formidable woman, to say the least. The look she gave Aria was anything but friendly.

Seth and Silas sat on either side of their parents. The senior Collins had a commanding presence—sharp eyes beneath gray hair—but when he looked at Aria, there was warmth there.

“Aria, come sit. We’re all family here. No need to stand on ceremony.”

Aria wasn’t used to the name but did as she was told. “Thank you, Mr. Collins.” She picked the seat farthest from the family.

Eloise snorted. “What good is a girl who’s sold herself? My poor son deserves better.”

Jericho frowned at her.

“Am I wrong? The Turners are taking advantage of your soft heart to force this marriage pact now. Sending their daughter over without even a proper wedding—shameless!”

“Enough!” Jericho snapped. Eloise shut her mouth, but her eyes still bored into Aria with open disdain.

Aria flinched, her hand curling into a fist. Her aunt’s actions really were shameless.

Jericho’s gaze softened. “You can call me Dad when you’re ready. I had hoped to plan a celebration for you both, but the Turners rushed everything.”

He chuckled and took an ornate wooden box from the butler. “This is my gift to you.”

The butler opened the box. Seth and Eloise both shot to their feet. “Dad!” “Jericho!”

Inside lay a pair of exquisite emerald bracelets set in gold, their green stones glowing under the lights. Aria knew exactly what they were worth. At auction, they could fetch a small fortune. If they were antiques, they were priceless.

“Jericho, how could you give those bracelets to her?” Eloise’s face twisted with displeasure.

“Would you rather have them?” Jericho asked mildly.

Seth tried carefully. “Dad, those were Great-grandmother’s. If you give them to her, they’ll be…”

“They’ll be what?” Jericho cut him off, then turned to Silas, his silent second son. “Are you planning to divorce her?”

Silas lifted his head slowly. His eyes met Aria’s by accident. “Do you want a divorce?”

The softness of his words sent a chill down Aria’s spine. “I… I don’t… dare.”

“Don’t dare, or won’t?” His question hit like a nail straight to the heart.

Under the weight of every stare in the room, Aria took a deep breath. “I won’t!”

Silas rose from the couch with easy grace and walked toward her. With deliberate movements, he took the emerald bracelets and slid them slowly onto her slender wrists.

“Son! Those are your father’s heirlooms, and you’re giving them to this woman?” Eloise protested.

Ignoring his mother, Silas secured the bracelets in place. Then he leaned in and whispered, soft enough that only Aria could hear, “Prove you deserve them.”