My Forced Marriage To A Coma Knight

Eleanore POV:

My family forced me to marry Kayson Knight, a man who'd been in a coma for five years. It was a sacrifice to save our family's legacy, a life sentence I accepted for their sake.

But on my adopted sister Josie's birthday, she framed me for stealing a family heirloom. My parents, who had always favored her, didn't hesitate. "Guards! Search her!" my father roared.

They pinned me down in front of all their guests. My brother held my arms while my childhood sweetheart looked away. They had already pushed me down the stairs and left me for dead once before. They had taken my kidney for Josie. This was just the final humiliation.

But they didn't know my secret. I had been recording Josie's lies for weeks.

As the guards' hands closed on me, I screamed, "You want the truth? Let's hear it then!" and pressed play on the hidden recorder.

Chapter 1

My hand, trembling ever so slightly, reached for the pen. It felt heavier than any burden I had ever carried, yet lighter than the crushing weight of their expectations. "I will do it," I said, my voice barely a whisper, a strange echo in the opulent Boston living room. "I'll marry Kayson Knight." The words, once a childhood nightmare, now felt like a desperate plea for freedom.

My mother, her face a mask of practiced concern, sighed with relief. "Eleanore, darling, you're so brave. It's for the best, you know." Her eyes, however, darted nervously towards the portrait of my grandfather hanging above the fireplace, a silent judge.

"Brave?" I wanted to scream, but the sound caught in my throat. Addison, my childhood sweetheart, shifted uncomfortably on the velvet couch beside me. He didn't meet my gaze. His silence was louder than any accusation.

Colbert, my older brother, cleared his throat. "It's not ideal, El, but it's our family's legacy. You understand, don't you? Kayson's family will appreciate your sacrifice." Sacrifice. They made it sound like a noble act, not a life sentence.

They didn't understand. They never did.

I remembered the summer days, not so long ago, when this house was filled with laughter. Addison and I, tangled in secrets and puppy love, chasing fireflies in the sprawling garden. My brother, Colbert, always protective, always there. My parents, doting and proud. Our lives, a picture of Bostonian perfection.

Then came my eighteenth birthday. A celebration that quickly turned into a solemn declaration. Our grandfathers, in their infinite wisdom, had arranged a marriage to merge our empires. The Spence and Knight families, united by contract. Kayson Knight, the heir to a New York tech dynasty, was my intended. It had always been for me.

But then, the twist of fate. A car accident, a five-year coma. Kayson, the man I was destined to marry, became a phantom. My parents, riddled with guilt, couldn't bear to send their "cherished daughter" to marry a man who might never wake. They feared the whispers, the societal judgment.

So, they found a solution. Josie Lloyd. A girl with a troubled past, a beautiful face, and nowhere to go. They adopted her, showered her with affection, groomed her to be the substitute bride. A scapegoat, a shield against their own shame. They convinced themselves it was kindness.

They had been so relieved, so happy with Josie. My parents' guilt over Kayson's condition, coupled with their desire to protect their "beloved" daughter (which was me, once), turned into an endless well of overcompensation for Josie. Lavish gifts, endless praise, every whim indulged. Slowly, subtly, I was pushed to the side. Josie, with her innocent eyes and venomous heart, thrived. She systematically turned everyone against me, framing me for her own misdeeds, stealing their love, piece by agonizing piece.

My kidney. I gave her my kidney when she suddenly developed a rare illness. They praised her for being "so weak," praised me for my "sisterly love." I remember the pain, the exhaustion, the way they looked at her, not me, when I woke from surgery.

Then came the final act of cruelty. Josie, feigning another dramatic runaway fit, had sent them into a frenzy. My brother and Addison, desperate to appease her, had found me on the grand staircase. "Just tell her you're sorry, Eleanore," Colbert had pleaded, his eyes devoid of the old warmth. "She just wants to feel loved."

"But I didn't do anything," I said, my voice cracking. "She lied."

Addison, his face a mask of frustration, stepped closer. "Just apologize, El. It's always you. Why can't you just make things easy for once?"

"I won't lie," I whispered, tears blurring my vision.

That's when it happened. A shove. Not hard, not intentionally, but enough. Colbert, I think. Or maybe Addison. It didn't matter. I tumbled down the stairs, a sickening crack echoing in the silent house as my head hit the polished marble floor. Pain, sharp and blinding, erupted. I saw their faces above me, not of horror, but of annoyance.

Josie's voice, sickly sweet, pierced the fog. "Oh, Eleanore, what have you done? You'll ruin everything!"

Colbert looked at my bleeding head, then back at Josie. "Don't worry, Josie," he said, his voice flat, "We'll handle this. Eleanore always exaggerates."

Addison knelt, not beside me, but pulled out his phone. "Josie's worried sick, she's crying again. We need to go find her."

My vision swam. They left me there. My own brother. My sweetheart. They abandoned me for the girl who had usurped my life. As consciousness slipped away, a chilling clarity pierced through the pain. This was the end of Eleanore Spence, the daughter they knew. A new one would rise from the ashes, or not at all.