The Disabled Tycoon's Lethal Substitute Bride

For the next two days, Eleonora endured the etiquette coach. Every lesson, from her posture to the way she held a fork, became a source of amusement for Sharon and Jessica.

Eleonora played her part perfectly.

She was clumsy, awkward, and utterly out of her depth-a backwater girl who would never fit in. Sharon and Jessica laughed, their guard completely down.

The night before the wedding, Eleonora locked her bedroom door. From a hidden compartment in an old suitcase, she retrieved a small, sophisticated tool kit.

It didn't contain jewels. It held rows of gleaming silver needles and dozens of small vials filled with powders and liquids of different colors.

Her movements were precise and elegant as she mixed several herbal powders, following a complex ratio. She was a different person from the clumsy girl of the daytime.

This was a skin formula, improved from a recipe in her mother's old notebooks. It worked wonders, but if the dosage of just one ingredient was slightly off, it would cause a severe allergic reaction.

She placed the majority of the finished product into a small, delicate porcelain jar. Then, she deliberately left a small amount of the "incorrectly mixed" semi-finished product in a mortar on her desk.

After setting the trap, she left her desk drawer unlocked and went to take a shower. The sound of running water provided the perfect cover.

Less than ten minutes later, she heard the faint sound of her door lock being picked.

Jessica and Sharon tiptoed in, their eyes scanning the room greedily. They were here for the rumored miracle skin formula.

Jessica's eyes landed on the mortar. "Mom, that's it!" she whispered excitedly. "I saw her use it. Her skin looked amazing afterward!"

Sharon urged her on. "Quick, get it. Jessica's party is tomorrow. This will be perfect."

Jessica pulled out a small baggie she had prepared and carefully scraped the "wrong formula" from the mortar. A triumphant smile spread across both their faces.

They slipped out of the room as quietly as they had entered, convinced they had gotten away with it.

The bathroom door opened. Eleonora, wrapped in a towel, stepped out. She glanced at the empty mortar, a flicker of mockery in her eyes. The fish had taken the bait.

The next morning, on her wedding day, before she could be taken to the venue, Sharon's shrill scream erupted from downstairs.

Eleonora walked down the stairs to see Jessica sobbing hysterically, her face a grotesque mask of angry, swollen red welts. Sharon was pointing a trembling finger at her. "You ungrateful little bitch! The Kemps are at the door! If they see this mess and think we’re trying to insult them with a 'diseased' household, they’ll ruin us! Do you want us all to die?"

Eleonora feigned innocence. "Aunt Sharon, what happened?"

"You're still pretending!" Sharon shrieked, raising her hand to slap her.

Eleonora didn't flinch. She just stared back, and the coldness in her eyes made Sharon hesitate for a fraction of a second.

At that moment, a calm, polite voice came from the front door. "Excuse me, is this the Rush residence? I'm here to pick up Miss Eleonora."

A man in a perfectly tailored black suit and gold-rimmed glasses stood in the doorway. Behind him, a black Bentley gleamed, its presence radiating quiet power. He was Chase Sullivan, Damien Kemp's executive assistant.

Sharon's hand froze in mid-air. Her expression instantly shifted to a fawning smile. "Ah, you must be from the Kemp family! Please, come in, come in."

The man gave a slight nod, his gaze moving past Sharon to land precisely on Eleonora. "You must be Miss Eleonora Rush. My name is Chase Sullivan. I am Mr. Damien Kemp's assistant."

Eleonora didn't correct him. To the world, she was a Rush—a pawn to be sold by her father. But in her heart, she was a Carlisle, the sole heir to her mother’s true legacy.

He had called him "Mister," not President or CEO. This small detail further convinced Sharon and Jessica that Damien held no real power in the Kemp family.

Eleonora nodded politely. "Hello, Mr. Sullivan."

Chase adjusted his glasses. His eyes, sharp behind the lenses, took in the tense atmosphere and Sharon's suspended hand. He turned back to Eleonora. "Mr. Kemp is waiting for you. It's time to go."

His arrival had not only stopped Sharon's attack but also declared that, from this moment on, Eleonora was no longer under the Rush family's control.

Eleonora picked up her single suitcase. Amidst the hateful glares of Sharon and Jessica, she followed Chase Sullivan to the Bentley.

The car door opened.

Eleonora saw a man in the back seat. He was in a wheelchair, his profile turned to the window. His frame was thin and his face pale, but an aura of cold indifference surrounded him, warning everyone to keep their distance.

This was her new husband, Damien Kemp.