The Wrong Bride

The rain hammered mercilessly against the taxi windows as Ishani Rao, a 21-year-old literature student, hugged her bag to her chest. Her earbuds buzzed with the storm outside, but her mind wasn’t on the thunder—it was on the story she had just finished reading.

Chains of Desire.

She had devoured that web novel countless times. The gentle heroine who never gave up, the cold Duke who ruled with iron, and the doomed villainess bride who dared to mock fate. Every time, the villainess—Lady Seraphina Valente—met a gruesome end. Dragged in chains through the execution square, her pride stripped, her laughter silenced forever.

And every time, Ishani’s heart ached.

“If I were her,” she muttered under her breath, tugging at the sleeves of her oversized hoodie, “I’d fight harder. I’d never let him kill me so easily.”

The cab jerked. Tires screeched. A blinding light flooded the windshield.

Crash.

Her breath caught in her throat. Then—nothing.

The sharp scent of roses and wax invaded her senses. Ishani’s eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred by dancing candle flames. She sat upright with a gasp—only to freeze.

She wasn’t in a taxi.

A vast chamber stretched before her, draped in crimson and gold. A canopy bed surrounded her, its curtains embroidered with roses. A gilded mirror reflected her image.

Except…it wasn’t her.

Her brown hoodie and worn jeans were gone. Instead, she wore a wedding gown fit for royalty—white satin layered with lace, jewels glittering under the candlelight. Her face in the mirror was sharper, her lips crimson, her eyes darker and more piercing than she’d ever seen in her own reflection.

Her trembling hand touched the glass. “This… this isn’t me.”

The door slammed open.

A gust of cold air swept inside, making the candles flicker violently. A tall figure entered—broad-shouldered, dressed in black military attire with silver embroidery. His boots echoed against the marble floor.

Duke Lucian Ravencourt.

The tyrant himself. The man Ishani had read about a hundred times. The cruel husband of Seraphina Valente. The man who would one day send her to her death.

Her blood ran cold.

“You dare keep me waiting on our wedding night?” His voice was low, sharp as a blade, dripping with venom.

Wedding night?

A searing pain stabbed through her skull. Images not her own flashed before her eyes—mocking laughter, arrogant glares, noblemen whispering behind fans, and the name whispered with hatred in every memory.

Lady Seraphina Valente.

Her knees buckled. No… no, this couldn’t be real. She wasn’t Seraphina. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was Ishani Rao. A normal girl. A nobody.

“I—this isn’t possible,” she gasped. Her heart pounded like a drum as she staggered back.

Lucian’s gaze narrowed. His silver eyes, colder than a snowstorm, locked on her like shackles. His hand brushed against the hilt of his sword, deliberate and threatening, as if testing her courage.

“What’s wrong, wife?” His tone was icy calm, each word dipped in mockery. “Lost your nerve already?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

The villainess’s memories bled into her mind—Seraphina sneering at maids, humiliating servants, slapping the heroine at the banquet. No wonder everyone despised her. No wonder she had been destined for the execution square.

Ishani clutched her chest. If I act like her… I’m dead. He’ll kill me without hesitation.

Lucian took a step closer, the floor trembling beneath his boots. The glow of the candles carved sharp shadows across his jawline, his expression unreadable yet suffocating.

She blurted the only truth in her heart.

“I… I don’t want to die.”

The words hung in the air, trembling, vulnerable.

For the first time, something shifted in Lucian’s expression. His silver eyes flickered—not with warmth, but with curiosity. The mask of cold indifference cracked, ever so slightly.

“You sound different tonight,” he murmured. His voice wasn’t mocking this time. It was calculating. Dangerous.

Ishani’s breath hitched. Had she just made a mistake? Or had she accidentally intrigued the man known for his merciless cruelty?

Her legs wobbled, but she straightened her back, forcing herself to meet his gaze. She couldn’t cower—not now, not if she wanted to live.

The air between them grew heavy, as if the world itself waited for her next move.

Should she play the part of the villainess, cruel and arrogant, the way Seraphina had always been? Or should she gamble, act differently, and hope Lucian’s curiosity would buy her time?

Her mind screamed, Survive. Whatever it takes. Survive.

Lucian’s boots clicked against the marble as he closed the distance between them. He stopped just an arm’s length away, his towering frame casting her in shadow. His hand rose—slowly, deliberately—and brushed against her chin, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze.

“Tell me, wife,” he said, his tone soft but menacing, “what game are you playing tonight?”

Her pulse thundered. She could feel the weight of his power, his control. Every breath, every second stretched like eternity.

This wasn’t a novel anymore. This was her life. And if she wasn’t careful, her story would end exactly like Seraphina’s—blood on the cobblestones, laughter silenced forever.

But Ishani Rao was not Seraphina Valente.

And she refused to die so easily.

Her lips quivered, but her voice—shaky as it was—found its way out.

“I’m not your enemy,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

The flicker in his eyes deepened. For the first time, the Duke looked at her not as prey, not as a nuisance—but as a puzzle. A puzzle he suddenly wanted to solve.

The silence was deafening.

Then, Lucian’s lips curved ever so slightly, though not in kindness. “Interesting,” he said. “Very interesting.”

The air thickened. The storm outside raged louder, lightning flashing against the windows. Ishani’s heart raced as the terrifying truth sank in.

She was trapped in the villainess’s body. The death sentence had already begun ticking. And the cruel Duke standing before her had just realized something about his bride was different.

Would that curiosity save her… or destroy her?

Only time would tell.

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