Substitute Bride To The Blind Billionaire

Los Angeles, California

Hacienda Parrow

Sebastian Parrow carried guilt in his chest the way other men carried breath. It sat heavy, unshakable, pressing into his ribs day after day. He lived with it, woke with it, and went to bed with it. Even on days when the sun climbed high and warm light spilled into the gardens of the Parrow estate, the weight never left him.

That Saturday had been meant for joy. He and his father had worked for months preparing an event that would introduce a new line of Parrow wines. It was not just a business triumph, not just another addition to their legacy.

For Sebastian, it had been personal. He wanted to dedicate it to his mother, to see her eyes shine with pride as he stood beside his father and proved himself worthy of the Parrow name.

But destiny was cruel. The night that should have ended with champagne toasts and laughter ended in blood. A drunk driver lost control of his car, and the crash shattered the Parrow family forever. The vehicle was completely wrecked and his parents died instantly, while Sebastian was the only one who survived.

At first, he thought survival was a blessing. Then the doctors spoke the words that ended his world.

He would never see again.

The bruises healed, the cuts faded, but the blindness was permanent. Darkness claimed him completely.

He remembered screaming in the hospital bed, tearing at the sheets, begging for someone to tell him it wasn’t true. But no one could. He had lost his parents and his sight in one night. His world ended there.

Yet in that darkness, there had been one figure who stayed. Maria. His fiancée. His childhood sweetheart. The girl who had promised forever. She held his hand, whispered comfort, promised him that nothing had changed. That she would love him the same way. That she would guide him through the shadows.

He had believed her.

Now, months later, Sebastian sat in the wide garden of Hacienda Parrow. The estate was as grand as ever, but it felt like a tomb. The air was too still, the silence too sharp. The roses bloomed in neat rows, filling the air with their fragrance, but he could not see their beauty anymore. He only knew them by scent, and sometimes he wondered if even that was fading.

He sat at the dining table, upright as always, refusing to let blindness rob him of dignity. His other senses had sharpened. He knew when someone approached even before they spoke.

“Mr. Parrow, your breakfast,” a maid’s timid voice announced.

He gave a small wave of his hand, allowing her to place the tray. He could feel her hesitation, the way her eyes lingered but avoided his face, the pity she tried to mask.

“Anything else, sir?” she asked cautiously.

“Out,” he ordered flatly.

She hurried away. He reached for the coffee cup, his fingers steady despite the blackness that filled his world. He lifted