Refusing To Be His Perfect Replica I Choose The Arranged Marriage

Chapter

1

For seven years, I've been in a secret relationship with Castro Harrison, my brother's best friend.

Just as I was hoping he'd propose, I tracked his location to a private lounge at an upscale restaurant, where I found they were joking about me.

"Castro, now that Oriana's back from London, what are you going to do about that replacement?"

Castro remained silent, his lack of response speaking volumes.

The tension in the air was broken by another friend's sardonic laugh.

"You've got to hand it to Castro-having the nerve to pursue William Blackwood's sister while Oriana was away. Now that you've had your fun, and Oriana's back..."

"Well, Oriana deserved it after how coldly she left. A replacement was just what she needed to teach her a lesson!"

The next day, Castro took me to Oriana's welcome-home party at the Blackwood Estate, lavishing attention on me with an almost theatrical display of affection.

But when Oriana ran out in tears, her Chanel dress stained with wine, Castro pushed me aside without a second thought and rush out.

I returned home alone, my cream silk blouse ruined by scalding soup and my skin was still burning.

With trembling hands, I finally opened the door to his study---the one room he'd always declared off-limits.

There, prominently displayed on his mahogany desk, was a photograph of him and Oriana in Paris, the Eiffel Tower gleaming behind their embracing figures.

My heart turned to ice as I dialed my brother's number in Switzerland.

"William... about that arranged marriage—I'll do it."

"Aveline?" My brother's voice softened with concern, catching the unfamiliar strain

in my tone. "What's wrong? This doesn't sound like you at all."

A lump formed in my throat, but I forced a light laugh.

"Nothing's wrong. I just realized - marriage is inevitable, isn't it? Does it really matter who it is?"

"Besides," I continued, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I trust your and father's judgment. Even for a business merger marriage, I know you would have vetted the candidate thoroughly."

William's relief was audible through the phone.

"I'm glad you're being sensible about this. When are you coming back? Would you like to meet him first before making your final decision?"

"No need. The sooner we proceed, the sooner we can resolve the company's crisis. Go ahead and start planning the wedding. Let's set it for... a month from now."

"Perfect! By the way, have you heard from Castro?" he coninued, "His first love is finally back in town. You should invite him to the wedding - let him share in your happiness."

So William knew about Oriana too. No wonder Castro never let me tell my brother about us.

I lowered my eyes, concealing the pain that threatened to spill over.

"Don't bother him, Will. We're... not that close."

Hearing the door unlock, I quickly said goodbye and ended the call.

I looked up to find Castro leaning against the doorframe, his signature smirk playing across his lips.

"Not close to whom?"

"You."

My honest answer only made his smirk widen as he pulled me into his arms.

"Oh really?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Should we discuss just how 'not close' we are? All those nights together weren't close enough?"

His breath was hot against my ear, and for the first time, his intimate gesture made my skin crawl instead of flutter.

As I struggled, I caught sight of the lipstick stain on his collar - a shade I'd never

worn.

The movement aggravated my burns, sending sharp stabs of pain through my body until tears sprang to my eyes.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you hurt?"

My tears seemed to spark genuine panic in Castro. When he pushed up my sleeve and saw the angry red burns on my wrist, his voice trembled with concern.

"God, when did this happen? Why didn't you tell me you were burned?"

He seemed to have completely forgotten about the incident at the party.

I remained silent, unsure whether to remind him and shatter his façade of devotion.

"Stop crying, darling. Let me get some medicine for that."

He stroked my hair soothingly before standing to retrieve the first aid kit, muttering as he walked.

"You're still such a child sometimes, aren't you? So sensitive to pain, so quick to tears. What would you do without me?"

I stared numbly at the burns on my wrist.

Yes, what would I do without him after seven years of his "protection"?

But Castro... I don't want you anymore. I don't want this false love anymore!