Loading promotion info...
My Sister Wore My Wedding Dress,So I Stole Her Whole Life
Novelix
Completed
Three years into her fairytale marriage, my sister caught her husband cheating — so she decided to steal mine. ""Ninety-nine loyalty tests,"" she called it. My childhood sweetheart Adrian smiled and told me to trust him. I did. Until my wedding day, when I watched Vivienne climb into MY limo, wearing MY dress, ready to marry MY groom. Then she ""died,"" and I spent thirty years drowning in guilt, running Adrian's empire — only to learn on my deathbed she'd been alive the whole time, laughing in his bed. Now I'm eighteen again. And this time? She can have him. I'm keeping the ateliers, the money, and the last laugh.
Chapters (3)
第1章
Three years into her perfect marriage, my sister caught her husband cheating.
So the second she heard I was engaged to my childhood best friend, she and my mother, Diana, hatched a plan.
“Sweetie, you can’t trust men. I’m going to test Adrian and see if he really loves you.”
“Ninety-nine loyalty tests,” she called it. “Just to make sure he really loves her.”
I trusted her right up until my wedding day.
Until I watched Vivienne climb into my wedding limo, wearing the custom gown I’d spent nineteen months hand-sewing.
“The last test only counts if Adrian can tell you two apart,” Mom whispered. “That’s all, honey.”
Then, at the altar, Vivienne’s veil “accidentally” slipped.
The whole ballroom gasped.
Every guest pulled out a phone.
“The bride swap of the century,” the tabloids screamed.
“Sister steals sister’s groom.”
Three days later, Vivienne hanged herself in her closet.
That was what they told me.
My father, Charles, slapped me so hard my ears rang.
He said I killed her.
Diana cried, called me a monster, and told me she never wanted to see my face again.
Only Adrian stayed.
Only Adrian held me at the funeral and whispered, “I’ve got you, Willow. I’ll never leave you.”
I was so grateful I could have died.
So for the next thirty years, I did everything for him.
I ran his empire.
I paid off my parents’ debts.
I nursed his mother through cancer.
I worked myself into a hospital bed at fifty-two.
And on my deathbed — plot twist — my supposedly dead sister walked through the door.
Alive.
Glowing.
Botoxed.
Holding Diana’s hand.
Holding Charles’s hand.
Holding Adrian’s hand.
“Baby,” Diana sighed, dabbing her eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. “I guess we owe you this one.”
“Vivvy’s heart was just so broken after her divorce. She refused to be anyone’s mistress. So we came up with this little arrangement.”
Adrian did not even look guilty.
He looked bored.
“I never loved you,” he said flatly. “But I gave you my last name. I gave you the title. You should be grateful.”
“Next life, Willow — let’s not do this again.”
---
So my whole life was a joke.
A thirty-year joke.
I closed my eyes.
And opened them again — to the sound of wedding bells.
I was eighteen.
Standing under the sycamore at the end of the driveway.
Watching Vivienne bend down and slide into MY limo.
Wearing MY dress.
“Ma’am!” Ava came running, her face white as a sheet. “Miss Vivienne got into your car! Mrs. Shaw told the staff not to say a word! She locked the back gate!”
I stared at that white limo pulling away.
Then I laughed.
Really laughed.
Out loud.
“Don’t stop her.”
Ava froze. “What?”
I turned around and started walking back to the house.
“Let her have him. Let her have all of it.”
Ava scrambled after me. “But — but today is YOUR wedding day!”
I did not slow down.
“Not anymore, sweetie. Not anymore.”
第2章
The front lawn of the Shaw estate was packed.
Cameras.
Champagne.
Two hundred of Manhattan’s finest craning their necks to see the “wedding of the year.”
Diana did not trust me not to make a scene.
She had stationed two staffers outside my bedroom door.
The second I walked up, they blocked me.
“Miss Willow, Mrs. Shaw said you should lie down. Take a breath.”
I looked them dead in the eye.
“This is my room.”
They smiled.
They did not move.
“Mrs. Shaw just wants what’s best for you. Miss Vivvy said the last test is very delicate. If you show up, it won’t work.”
Right.
The tests.
Ninety-nine of them.
Test number one: Vivienne “twisted her ankle” at a charity gala.
Adrian carried her out in his tux.
Left me at the valet stand.
Diana said he was just being a gentleman.
Test seventeen: Vivienne “fell” into the pool at the Hamptons house.
She and I both screamed for help.
Adrian dove in — and came up with her.
Charles said she was closer.
He was just reacting.
Test fifty-three: Vivienne “caught the flu.”
She begged Adrian to make her chicken soup himself.
He sat by her bed all night.
I waited on the porch until sunrise.
When he finally came out, his first words to me were:
“Your sister’s fragile, Willow. Why don’t you take better care of her?”
Test ninety-eight: Vivienne told him her ex-husband was “dying.”
She begged Adrian to fly with her to Aspen for a “healing retreat.”
Three days.
When they came back, she had a diamond pendant around her neck.
Adrian said he grabbed it at the airport.
He told her to model it for me.
I found out later that it was his grandmother’s.
The one meant for his future wife.
They spent ninety-eight tests falling in love in plain sight.
I spent ninety-eight tests convincing myself I was crazy.
Now, for the finale, they had taken my dress and my limo too.
“Move.”
I pulled the diamond pin out of my updo and pressed the point against my own throat.
The two staffers went pale.
Ava gasped. “Miss —!”
“There are two hundred guests out there,” I said, calm as ice. “You want to be the ones who let the Shaws’ second daughter bleed out on her wedding day? Be my guest.”
They stepped aside.
I locked the door behind me.
I pulled the tiara off my head.
Dropped it on the vanity like it was a candy wrapper.
The girl in the mirror was eighteen years old.
No dark circles yet.
No calluses on her fingers from thirty years of running someone else’s empire.
Ava watched me strip out of the wedding dress and pull on jeans and a plain sweater.
“Miss… what are you doing?”
“Leaving. New York. Tonight.”
Her eyes went huge.
“But — your passport, your ID — your mother has them! And if Adrian figures out it’s not you in that limo, he’ll come looking!”
I zipped up my duffel.
“Then we move fast.”
Thirty years of running that man’s household taught me one thing.
I know how to take what is mine without anyone noticing.
And Diana?
Diana’s hiding spots never change.
She thought I would cry.
Sulk.
Beg.
She never, in a million years, thought I would walk.
第3章
“Ava. Go to the kitchen. Grab two housekeeper uniforms and some snacks. Don’t let anyone see you.”
Ava bit her lip.
“Wherever you’re going, Miss — I’m going with you.”
I stopped and looked at her.
In my last life, after I “married” Adrian, Diana shipped Ava off to some property upstate.
Made her scrub floors.
Two years later, Ava tried to send me a letter.
She had figured out Vivienne was still alive.
She never made it to the city.
They said her car went off a cliff.
“An accident.”
Right.
Sure.
I squeezed her hand.
“Okay. We go together.”
The second she was gone, I pulled a shoebox out from under my bed.
Inside: three hundred and twenty grand in cash.
Money I had saved from doing freelance sketches for private clients.
Diana always assumed I spent it on Adrian.
I never did.
He barely gave me anything.
But every time Vivienne saw something she liked, Diana made me pay.
“Your sister’s had it so hard, Willow. Just let her have this one.”
She had been saying that line since I was six years old.
From a cupcake, to a Chanel bag, to my whole damn life.
Downstairs, I heard Charles’s voice.
I tucked the cash into my bra, slipped out the window, and cut through the back hallway to Diana’s suite.
Her door was not fully shut.
“Did Willow follow her out?” Charles whispered.
“I’ve got eyes on her,” Diana said, irritated. “She’s always been a good girl. She’ll cry a little. Once Vivvy’s little ‘accident’ plays out, she’ll fall right in line.”
Charles hesitated.
“What if Adrian goes too hard on Vivvy at the altar? She’s fragile —”
“Oh, please. It’s theater. That boy is obsessed with her.” Diana laughed softly.
“He texted me last night. Everything’s set. Veil drops, he pretends to blow up, the Coles pretend to call it off. Three days later, we announce Vivvy hanged herself. Willow will feel so damn guilty she’ll marry him without asking a single question.”
Charles sighed.
“Poor Willow.”
I stood outside that door and felt… nothing.
Just a quiet, cold click, like a lock sliding shut in my chest.
Last life, on my deathbed, they used the exact same words.
“Poor Willow.”
Like a two-syllable receipt for thirty years of my life.
“Vivvy’s been through hell,” Diana went on, colder now. “She finally likes someone. What kind of mother would I be if I let her lose him?”
“Willow marrying Adrian is a gift. He doesn’t love her, sure. But he agreed to give her the ring, the last name, the credit cards. She’ll want for nothing.”
“But if Adrian keeps seeing Vivvy,” Charles said, “Willow’s going to figure it out.”
“So what?” Diana snapped. “By then she’ll be Mrs. Cole. Two families, one empire. What’s she going to do — file for divorce and start over? She’s a housewife. She’s got nowhere to go.”
I stared at the carpet, fists clenched in my sleeves.
They were not scared of me finding out.
They were sure that even if I did, I had no way out.
Diana and Charles were her parents.
Adrian was her man.
Both families had her back.
What could I do but shut up and take it?
Except they did not know I had already died once.
And they had no idea that the quiet little housewife they were so sure of?
In another life, I turned Adrian’s dying trust fund into the biggest fashion empire on the East Coast.
I knew every shipping route.
Every supplier in LA.
Every fabric mill in Milan.
Every crooked accountant in Adrian’s org chart.
I did not need the Shaws.
I did not need the Coles.
I would be just fine.
Better, actually.
