The Replaced Bride's fortune

"Pack your things, you're going to the Maserati home tomorrow," father barked at me as I bowed sheepishly at the dining table.

"But...why?," I started in a quiet voice, taken completely off guard at the sudden news, "Emily might be back in time for the ..."

"Shut up, Brianna." He dismissed me before I could even land my point. "Just do as I've said, Emily is not coming back and you will be taking her place as the bride. That is final."

I nodded, a quiet sense of resignation washing over me. I cowered in fear at his cold tone, my gaze running down the table at the so called family-people, who should be defending me or at least try to defend me. No one batted an eye. Not even a shock expression on their face.

It was pathetic really, I had never expected much from them, never hoped for more than I was given but this one cut a bit deeper than I'd like to admit.

I'd long known that they'd find a way to dismiss me from the house sooner or later. But what I didn't know was when. I guess this was it. It was finally time I was put to use for their own gain.

The rest of the table continued with their meal, engaging in conversations I didn't dare to partake in.

Mother was seated ramrod straight at the other end of the six seater dining table. Her head nodding in response to whatever Elsa was saying from her right side.

Ezra was seated on her left, his food long gone, his full attention on his phone , not minding us at all. I didn't dare use my phone when I was at the dining table.

I was seated just at the left of father, the seat opposite mine which would have been occupied by Emily now empty. A perfect reminder of her absence or do I say her convenient escape from her long arranged marriage. It was also a painful indication of my current dilemma.

Emily was supposed to be getting married to Adrian Maserati in two days. She had shown no sign of resistance at the time she was informed.

We had all been gathered on the table barely two weeks ago. Emily had smiled, eating her food without as much as a shred of concern on her face. I was very surprised by that.

"Yes father," she had said, a small smile on her face as she nodded in acceptance.

I'd have thought that she would fight, yell, riot, anything else than agree to the marriage with Adrian.

Adrian Maserati was a feared man. There were rumors and stories of how he killed people and how his company was built on innocent tears, sweat and blood - and I mean literal blood. He was known for his brutal ways and was feared among many.

When father had announced it that very day, I remember the quiet gasp that escaped my lips. I