Second Choice Wife

(Ria’s POV)

Through the marble halls, the smell of syrup and sausage hung heavy, but my stomach was too upset to eat. I stood by the dining room door, holding a cold glass of orange juice, unnoticeable to the dozen people moving inside.

The maids ran over with napkins. The florist got a rude call from my mom. My dad paced like a cat that hadn't been fed.

And Raquel?

Gone.

Aunt Maureen spoke up from the other end of the table. "She's probably getting nervous." "You know how weak she is."

I said under my breath, "She's not delicate." "She's afraid."

No one heard me. Of course not.

“Has anyone checked the suite? ” my mother snapped, brushing imaginary dust from her pearl-studded blouse.

“She’s not answering,” one of the girls said, chewing on her nails. “Her phone’s off.”

Silence squeezed like a trap.

That’s when the double doors slammed open.

My father stormed in like thunder. “Enough,” he growled, eyes burning. “She’s not coming back.”

Heads whipped toward him.

“What? ” my mother gasped.

“She’s run off. The guards saw her leave before dawn with a bag and a cab.” His eyes landed on me like heat-seeking missiles. “Ria, come here.”

My glass slipped from my hand and broke. “What? ”

“Get up.” His voice was calm, too calm. “You’ll wear the dress. You’ll save this family.”

I blinked at him. “No. I—I’m not—”

“She’s your sister. You’ll fix her mess.”

“I didn’t sign any—”

“You don’t need to. I did.”

My mother stood. “Your sister’s dress is upstairs. It’s already fitted. You two are nearly the same size.”

“No, we’re not,” I whispered, backing away. “I can’t—this isn’t right—”

“You’ll marry Edmond Cozen in two hours,” my father snapped. “And you will smile.”

“Why? ” I choked. “Why me? ”

“Because you’re still here,” he said with ice. “And we don’t throw away useful things.”

The wedding suite smelt of roses and deception.

Three designers buzzed around me like bees, zipping, pulling, pinning. I stood like a doll in a glass case, motionless as they yanked the corset tighter.

“You’re lucky,” one of them whispered, clipping a cover to my hair. “He’s rich and terrifying." Most girls would kill for this.”

I didn’t talk. I couldn’t. My throat was cement.

The mirror didn’t show me. It showed her—Raquel, the beautiful daughter. The one they all loved. I was just a shadow.

The dress fit like it was made for me.

I hated it.

“I’m not her,” I whispered.

Behind me, my mother smirked in the mirror. “Exactly. You won’t run.”

The grand church was filled with whispers.

Every seat was packed with New Orleans leaders, the press waiting outside. A wedding meant to unite two of the city's most powerful families.

Only... I wasn't supposed to be the bride.

I walked slowly down the aisle. My feet felt like brick blocks. I could barely hear the music over the pounding in my head.

Then I saw him.

Edmond Cozen.

Tall. Sharp-suited. Face cut into stone. Wavy brown hair slicked back. Eyes like dark honey—empty and unreadable.

He didn’t look at me.

Not once.

The priest cleared his throat.

“We are gathered here today to unite Edmond Michael Cozen and Ra—”

A pause.

I saw Edmond’s brow twitch.

“Ria Margaret Whittaker in holy matrimony.”

He didn’t move. Just fixed his cufflink.

When it was time for the promises, I barely got through mine. My hands shook so badly I thought I might drop the ring.

Then it was his turn.

He slid the ring onto my finger like he was handling a deal, not a person.

“I do,” he said coldly.

That was it.

No feeling. No warmth.

The priest pronounced us husband and wife.

I felt a tear slide down my face as the crowd cheered.

Not one of those hands clapped for me.

Scene 4: The Silence of a Stranger

The car was quiet.

The leather seats were cool beneath my legs. My bouquet sat forgotten in my lap. Edmond didn’t speak. Didn’t even look my way.

He stared out the window, one arm thrown casually across the chair, like this was just another Monday.

I tried. I really did.

“Mr. Cozen—”

“Edmond,” he cut in.

“Right. "Edmond...” I hesitated. “I—I didn’t expect this either.”

“Clearly.”

His voice was deep, boring. The kind that leaves bruises without trying.

“I didn’t plan to be here,” I added softly.

“Neither did I,” he answered. “But here we are.”

I turned toward him. “Don’t you want to know why Raquel left? ”

He finally looked at me. For one second, our eyes locked. And it felt like falling into a pond.

“I don’t care,” he said. “One Whittaker or the other—it doesn’t matter. You’re all the same.”

That shut me up.

The rest of the ride was a blur of darkness and city lights. When we arrived at his mansion—more like a fortress—he left without waiting for me.

A maid opened the door for me with a fake smile.

“Welcome, Mrs. Cozen.”

Later That Night…

The room they gave me was huge.

All white furniture. Minimalist. Cold. A vase of blue flowers sat on the counter, untouched.

I sat on the edge of the bed, dress still on, veil forgotten.

I didn’t cry. There was no one to cry about.

At midnight, I tiptoed down the hall to get water. Edmond’s door was slightly open.

I froze.

He was inside, his back turned. Shirtless. His skin was brown, broad shoulders moving as he removed bandages from his hand.

I gasped.

His back was covered in bruises. Fresh ones. Deep purple and red. Faint cuts across his sides. His fingers were raw. Bleeding.

I clutched the wall, heart pounding.

What the hell had he been doing?

He turned slightly. I ducked behind the door frame.

“Do you need something? ” he said without looking up.

I stepped into view slowly. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m always hurt,” he responded simply.

I didn’t know what to say. “Did someone—? ”

“Don’t ask questions you can’t handle answers to.”

“You’re my husband,” I whispered.

He laughed without fun. “On paper.”

“Is someone hurting you? ” I asked again, my voice trembling.

He finally looked at me—and this time, really looked. His eyes were molten but unreadable.

“No, Ria,” he said softly. “I do the hurting.”

He turned and shut the door in my face.

I stood there, air caught in my mouth, as a single drop of blood slid down the hallway floor from beneath his door.

In the dim hallway light, I looked at the trail of blood leaking from Edmond’s room.

But something shimmered on the floor just inches from the door. I went to pick it up.

A metal ring. Too small for Edmond. A woman’s ring.

Raquel’s.