My sister is a ten. A certified smoke show. Guys line up from Manhattan to Paris just to get a glimpse of her. I look about 70% like her, but my DMs? Dry as the Sahara. I once asked one of her simps why he was down bad for her but ignored me. He said, "You guys look alike, sure, but the vibe is totally different. Plus, standing next to you just reminds people of her. The downgrade hits too hard." That was the dynamic. Until the merger. Our family arranged a marriage between my sister and Harrison Hale, the heir to the Hale empire and a guy who’d apparently been crushing on her for years. But she wasn't having it. She was dead set on being with her broke college boyfriend. Mom tried to talk sense into her. "Chloe, are you insane? The Hales run New York. Harrison is practically a model. Why wouldn't you want this?" Chloe rolled her eyes, looking disgusted. "It’s the 21st century, Mom. Arranged marriages are barbaric. I’m not gonna be some billionaire’s trophy wife." Then she looked at me, a smirk playing on her lips. "Let Sophie do it. Everyone says we look alike anyway." I thought about it for exactly three seconds. Then I nodded. "Deal. I'll marry him." 1 The room went silent. Chloe looked shocked that I actually agreed. Mom rushed over, grabbing my hands, her eyes wide. "Sophie, honey, are you serious? You’d really do this for your sister?" I gently pulled my hands away and put on my best obedient daughter smile. "Of course." "But..." Mom hesitated, looking pained. "Harrison has wanted Chloe since they were kids. He’s giving up 30% of his company shares for this union. I don't know if he’ll accept a substitute." "Don't worry," I said calmly. "I'll make him say yes." I did a quick touch-up on my makeup and had Mom set up a meeting with Harrison at a café in the West Village. Traffic was a nightmare, so I was fifteen minutes late. When I walked in, Harrison was already there. Even though I’d only seen photos, I spotted him instantly. The man was lethal. Sharp suit, jawline that could cut glass. He radiated old money. I walked over. He looked up, startled for a split second, before his expression went cold and professional. He stood up to pull out my chair. "Sorry, traffic was gridlock," I said. "No problem." He didn't look annoyed. He just slid a menu toward me. "The espresso here is excellent. Give it a try." I ordered a black coffee, took a sip, and cut the small talk. "Stop chasing my sister. She's in love with someone else." Harrison lowered his gaze, his long lashes casting shadows. "I didn't know. She just said she needed more time to think." "Well, I don't have anyone," I said. He looked at me, confused. "I mean, you should marry me instead." I touched my face—smooth, expensive skin. "You probably don't know much about me. I was kidnapped when I was eight. My parents only found me and brought me home last year." "But since I got back, I’ve grinded. I learned everything a Hale wife needs to know. Piano, flower arranging, horseback riding—I can do it all. I won't embarrass you." "I take care of myself. Skincare, diet, monthly derm appointments. I look just as good as Chloe now." For a long time, I couldn't figure out why people thought I was ugly compared to Chloe when we shared the same DNA. Then I realized it was the trauma. My foster parents were trash. We lived in a shack in the middle of nowhere. I wasn't their kid, and I was a girl, so I was treated like livestock. Ten years of abuse made my skin rough and my eyes dead. When I got back to my real family, I treated my recovery like a job. It took three years and a lot of money to look like a human being again, let alone an heiress. Harrison tapped his fingers on the table. His dark eyes scanned me, assessing. After a long silence, he spoke. "Okay." 2 We exchanged numbers, and he drove me home. I’d done my homework on the Hale family. In short: they were loaded. Harrison Hale was the Cash King of New York. The liquidity they had on hand was in the billions. I majored in Finance. I knew exactly what kind of power that money represented. Chloe and I might be sisters, but we were playing different games. She wanted freedom. She thought money was dirty. She was willing to struggle with a guy who had a criminal record for the sake of "true love." Me? I’d starved before. I knew the truth. Money isn't everything, but living without it is hell. So, even if Harrison and I had zero chemistry, I was locking this down. When I got home, Chloe and Mom were waiting in the living room. "Sophie, how did it go?" Mom asked, nervous. Before I could answer, our gardener, Old Joe, walked in beaming. "Ma'am! It went great! Mr. Hale drove Miss Sophie home himself! She was in the passenger seat!" Everyone knew Harrison was weird about his car. No one sat in the front seat except his mother. I put down my bag and looked at Chloe sincerely. "You're off the hook. Go chase your true love." But Chloe didn't look happy. Her face twisted into a sneer. "One date and you're already riding shotgun? Guess you can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can't take the trash out of the girl. Zero class." Mom and Old Joe turned pale. I paused on the stairs. I turned around, my heels clicking on the marble floor as I walked up to her. "I forgot a lot of things, Chloe. But I didn't forget why I got kidnapped." "If you hadn't ditched me with that stranger on the street because you were jealous the teacher liked my handwriting better... would I have been taken?" She had told a random passerby that the trafficker was my mom because she was throwing a tantrum. Chloe’s eyes shifted. She looked guilty. I wasn't one to play the victim card, and I didn't care about her guilt. I just needed her to shut up. 3 News spreads fast in high society. By the next day, everyone knew I was marrying Harrison. The rumors were nasty. They called me shameless. Said I was a gold digger seducing my sister's fiancé. Some said I’d been lusting after Harrison for years and Chloe stepped aside out of pity. I found it funny. Aren't these rich people supposed to be pragmatic? Chloe didn't want him. I did. It was a perfect business transaction. I secured the family alliance, I got financial security, and Chloe got to go live her indie movie romance. Win-win. Why was I the villain? Thankfully, Harrison was a class act. When he heard the gossip, he used the Hale influence to crush it immediately. Harrison looked like a gentleman, but he moved like a shark. Once he bit down, he didn't let go. The rumors died overnight. We started seeing each other more. Meanwhile, Chloe moved out to live with her broke boyfriend in a basement apartment to prove a point. Mom and Dad froze her accounts to force her back, but she was stubborn. She ghosted them. I didn't care. I was busy prepping for the wedding. The ceremony was a flex. My dress cost a million dollars. The wedding itself cost five hundred million. It was all over Vogue and The Times. The wedding day was exhausting, but it was the last hard day I had. Post-marriage life? Paradise. Harrison owned property everywhere. Penthouses, villas, private islands. Maybe because he was boring, or maybe because I was just a substitute, our marriage wasn't romantic. He never said "I love you." He never promised forever. I didn't mind. Every holiday, he dropped a bag. Eight-figure jewelry. Haute couture straight off the runway. I preferred diamonds to poetry anyway. My friend, Roxy, didn't get it. 4 "Rich men are all dogs," Roxy told me over drinks. "He’s never home. He's probably cheating. And even if he isn't, aren't you lonely?" Roxy was my friend from the bad old days. We bonded over our trauma. I thought she’d understand why I chose security over feelings. I tried to explain. "I don't care where he is. Every month, a seven-figure allowance hits my account. I drive a different supercar every day of the week." "And lonely? No." Before I married Harrison, I wondered why rich people didn't spend all day on their phones. Now I knew: Phones are entertainment for poor people. Rich people have better things to do. In the last year, I’d traveled the world. First-class everything. VIP treatment. I wanted Roxy to get it. I offered to take her on a trip, all expenses paid. She slapped my hand away. "You've changed, Sophie. You’re so vain now. You’re just a gold digger." 5 I was confused. Spending my husband's money made me a gold digger? If men weren't visual creatures, women wouldn't have the chance to dig for gold. It's a two-way street. Roxy shook her head. "You're a canary in a cage. What happens when he gets bored? You'll be back in the gutter." I wanted to say that even if we divorced, the alimony would set me up for life. But she had a point. This was a business merger. Harrison married me to secure the deal and maybe because I looked like the girl he actually wanted. If he got sick of me, I needed a parachute. And not just alimony—I needed my own empire. So, I went to Harrison. "I want to start a business. Invest in me." 6 Harrison agreed immediately. Didn't even ask what it was. People thought he was this controlling alpha male because of his brooding vibe. They were wrong. He respected every choice I made. He gave me the capital and said, "If you need help, ask." Reliable. Sexy. Startups are hard, but having Harrison Hale as a cheat code made it easy. With his backing and advice, my companies went public in two years. I wasn't Hale-level rich, but if we divorced tomorrow, I’d still be a queen. 7 On our anniversary, I thought he’d be working. He came home. I closed my eyes and let him kiss me. Actually, our "marital life" wasn't as cold as people thought. He was busy, sure. But if he was in New York, he came home to sleep. I’m a light sleeper. I’d hear him creep in, shower in the guest bath so he wouldn't wake me, and then slide into bed, pulling me into his arms. He smelled like expensive oud and cedarwood. I wasn't lonely. Harrison filled the void in my bank account. And physically? Let’s just say the man had stamina. Beneath the icy exterior, he was intense. Even with my daily Pilates, I could barely keep up. Tonight was the same. He wore me out until I was practically passing out. He carried me to the bath and cleaned me up. I looked at him. Most married guys let themselves go. Harrison looked like he was carved out of marble. He caught me staring and smirked. "Round two?" 8 "No..." My voice was totally fried. He chuckled and tucked me into bed. I was satisfied. If he kept this up, I’d stay married to him forever. But the peace didn't last. A few days later, I got a text after my workout. It was a photo. Me. Naked. From years ago. My blood ran cold. It was taken by my foster father, Buck. Buck was a gambling addict. When he ran out of money, he tried to pimp me out. I was the top student in the county, so the local government was watching me, which scared him off from selling me entirely. Instead, he stripped me, took photos, and used them as collateral for loans. I gripped my phone, trying to breathe. I typed back: Buck, what do you want? Buck: Look at you, living the high life. Too good to call your daddy? Me: Cut the crap. He sent a bank account number. Send a million bucks. Or tomorrow, your husband gets the full gallery. I hesitated, then transferred the money. A million was nothing to me now, but being a sucker stung. However, the Hales cared about reputation above all else. If these leaked, I was done. I couldn't let Buck ruin my life twice. A few days later, he texted again. Same account. Five million this time. I laughed. I was literally shaking with rage. I knew I should call the cops, but I didn't know who else had copies. I sent the money. Since I paid so easily, Buck got bold. He asked to meet. I agreed.
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