The Decoy Bride Who Burned the Empire Down

The approval letter burned a hole in my coat pocket.

I kept my hand wrapped around the crisp paper, using its sharp edges to ground me as I moved down the dim corridor of the Marchetti estate's west wing. My chest ached with every step. My lungs were failing. My body betrayed me a little more each day. But tonight, adrenaline carried me forward.

I was going to live.

I had swallowed my pride and walked into enemy territory to beg for it. Getting a signature from the Hale family — our fiercest rivals — was practically a death sentence in this city. But I had knelt in Dominic Hale's office, pleaded for my life, and secured the final spot in his pharmaceutical company's experimental trial.

Now I needed to find my husband. I needed to watch Caleb Marchetti's face when I told him the nightmare was over.

Light spilled from the crack beneath the heavy oak door of the trophy room.

I reached for the brass handle.

A muffled sound stopped my hand mid-air.

"Caleb, wait."

The voice was female. Soft. Frantic.

It wasn't mine.

"I'm tired of waiting, Daph."

My stomach dropped. Daphne Whitlock. Caleb's sister-in-law. She had buried his brother exactly three weeks ago.

"The whole house is asleep," Daphne whispered, though the rustle of fabric against wood carried clearly into the hallway. "But if someone walks by—"

"No one comes down here at night," Caleb murmured. His voice — usually so measured when he spoke to me — carried a rough, hungry edge I had never heard before. "Let me look at you."

I froze. My feet glued themselves to the runner rug.

"It feels wrong," Daphne said, her tone laced with weak protest. "Theo is barely in the ground. And Sienna… Sienna looks so frail lately. The doctors said she barely has a month."

"I know what the doctors said." Caleb's reply cut through the oak door, sharp and dismissive.

My fingers tightened around the letter. The paper crinkled.

"You shouldn't sound so cold," Daphne murmured. "She's your wife."

"She's a shield," Caleb corrected, his voice dropping into a low, intimate register. "You know exactly why I married her. It was always to protect you from the family's scrutiny. When she finally gives out, I'll give you the wedding you actually deserve. A grand one. No more hiding."

The hallway tilted.

I leaned my shoulder into the wall, fighting the urge to vomit.

*When she finally gives out.*

The words obliterated the fragile hope I'd carried home. For two years I had believed Caleb was my rock. He held my hand during treatments. He wiped my tears when the prognosis darkened. He played the devoted, grieving husband so perfectly that I never once questioned the late nights or the distracted glances.

He wasn't grieving me. He was waiting for me to empty the space.

"Ma'am?"

I flinched, whipping my head right.

Mrs. Aldridge stood at the intersection of the corridor, a stack of folded towels