Sold as a Substitute Bride, Claimed by the Ruthless CEO

The headlights were blinding. A knot of pure terror tightened in Eliana's stomach. She stumbled back, her spine hitting the cold iron bars of the gate.

She couldn't see the man's face clearly, but the oppressive aura of power rolling off him in waves was suffocating. It made the air thick and hard to breathe.

Her mind raced. A man like this, in a car like this, at this hour. He wasn't just a guest.

Was he one of them? A Holloway?

In the abyss of her despair, a single, desperate idea took root. She lurched forward, her voice trembling. "Sir, please, you have to help me. Take me away from here. I'm being held captive!"

The man in the car didn't move. The smoke from his cigarette curled lazily into the night air. His gaze was fixed on her, unblinking and unnervingly steady, as if he were dissecting her every move.

In the driver's seat, Arthur Hayes glanced at his boss in the rearview mirror and remained perfectly still, a statue of professional silence. His silence was its own statement, underscoring the absolute authority of the man in the back.

Seeing no reaction, Eliana's panic grew. She pointed a shaking finger back at the looming mansion. "Please, they're trying to sell me! I'll pay you back, whatever it costs, I promise!"

Branson finally spoke. His voice was a low, magnetic rumble, laced with ice. "Sell you? It sounds like you're worth a great deal tonight."

The mockery in his tone hit her like a physical blow. Her body went rigid. It was no use. He wouldn't help.

But beneath his cold expression, Branson had already recognized the Stevenson manor behind her. A family dispute, a desperate escape, and a woman appearing at midnight in front of his car. He had no reason to believe her words without knowing the truth.

Just then, lights began to flare on inside the manor. Shouts echoed through the night, followed by Melinda's shriek. "Eliana! She's gone!"

Eliana's face went white. She glanced over her shoulder. It was over.

She watched in horror as the Bentley's rear window began to rise, a sheet of dark glass sealing off her last sliver of hope.

Melinda, flanked by two burly security guards, stormed toward her. She grabbed Eliana's arm, her fingers digging in with enough force to bruise. "You little bitch," she hissed, her eyes darting nervously at the idling luxury car. "Are you trying to ruin this family?"

Eliana was dragged back toward the villa, her suitcase thrown to the ground behind her.

As the guards hauled her into the brightly lit foyer, a desperate plan formed in her mind. Her body suddenly went limp. Her eyes glazed over, becoming unfocused and lost.

"So dark..." she mumbled, her voice faint. "I want to go home... Grandma..."

Melinda froze. The guards paused, their grips loosening.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Eliana began to wander aimlessly through the foyer, her movements slow and clumsy, as if she were searching for something that wasn't there.

Annabell ran down the stairs in a silk nightgown, her face a mask of contempt. "What is she doing? Faking a breakdown?"

Lawrence, her stepfather, approached cautiously, his brow furrowed with pretend concern. "Eliana?"

She gave no sign of hearing him. She just kept walking, her gaze empty.

The old butler, who had seen decades of family drama, spoke up. "Sir, Madam... it looks as though she's sleepwalking."

Doubt flickered in Melinda's eyes. She grabbed Eliana's right hand and shook it lightly.

"Hey, Eliana. Wake up."

Eliana pretended to be startled awake. She blinked in confusion, looking around.

"How... how did I get here?"

"You were sleepwalking," Melinda said coldly.

"Take her back to her room," Melinda ordered the guards, waving a hand impatiently.

The moment the bedroom door locked behind her, Eliana's disguise fell apart. She collapsed against it, her back drenched in cold sweat.

Minutes later, Melinda entered. Her smile was a grotesque parody of warmth. In her hand, she held a tablet.

She held the screen up to Eliana's face. It showed a real-time video feed. An elderly woman with white hair lay in a private medical facility bed, a web of tubes and wires connecting her to beeping machines.

Grandma.

Melinda's voice was soft, but every word was a dagger. "Your grandmother is receiving treatment at one of New York's finest private medical facilities. The daily cost is enormous. As long as you're a good girl, she'll receive the best care. If not..."

Eliana stared at the screen, her nails digging so deep into her palms that she felt the skin break.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, her voice a dead, hollow thing.

Melinda's smile widened, triumphant. "Simple. You will take Annabell's place. You will marry into the Holloway family."