The Billionaire's Replacement Bride is a Troublemaker!

SCARLETT

I was having one of those days where nothing went right and it felt like the universe was out to get me. I got hit at work by a customer, lost my wallet and got caught in the rain on my way home. So yeah, it was a pretty shitty day.

After the shitty day I'd had, what I wanted most was to crawl into bed and sleep away for as long as possible but this day really was the gift that kept on giving.

"You're going to have to repeat that, Dad because I'm so sure I must be hearing you wrong," I said, furiously pacing the bathroom from end to end as I tried to dry off my hair. I was pulling on my hair hard enough that it hurt my scalp but I was far too annoyed to care.

"I am not in the mood for this back and forth, Scarlett." My dad spoke slowly like he was talking to a child throwing a tantrum. "You heard me right. You are getting married."

I stopped my pacing and stood still for a moment while my mind struggled to process what I'd just heard.

"Three years," I said on an exhale, my grip on my phone tightening. "I left and you ignored my existence for three years. What makes you think you have the right to marry me off after complete radio silence for three f*ck*ng years? You really must know so little of me if you think I'm just going to go ahead with this."

My father remained silent for far longer than I expected afterwards, the sound of his breathing the only sign that he hadn't hung up. When he finally spoke, the line crackled. "You're right."

Two small, simple words and yet, they were enough to make my brain short-circuit.

"I am?"

"Yes," my father responded. He went on without skipping a beat. "I should've told you about it much sooner. But I would prefer if we had this conversation in person. I already bought you a ticket to Manhattan for tomorrow."

I narrowed my eyes then, more than a little suspicious at my dad's sudden personality change. "And how do I know this isn't just a trap to lure me back to Manhattan? After all, if I'm not there, I can't get married to anyone."

"You're allowed to think whatever you want but I'm only inviting you to talk. If not about the marriage, maybe you want to know about your sister."

My spine stiffened and alarm bells immediately started going off in my head.

After stumbling across a random article about my engagement to some rich guy, I'd immediately tried calling my sister only to be told her number no longer existed. It was the whole reason I'd ended up calling my dad.

"Dad, is Layla okay?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Scarlett." And then he hung up.

I dropped the phone down on the sink, muttering curses under my breath. It was just like my dad to use my own sister as blackmail to get me to come back to Manhattan. And it confirmed that I was most definitely walking into a trap.

So obviously I couldn't go to Manhattan tomorrow. But then how would I find out what happened to my sister?

I stared long and hard at my reflection in the bathroom as I considered my options.

I had deleted all of my contacts and cut off everyone I knew in Manhattan when I left so contacting anyone was out of the question which left me with only one other option.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Outside, my roommate Grace asked, "Scarlett, you okay in there? "

"Yeah, yeah. Just fine. I'll be out in a minute."

"Cool. Just wanted to let you know I ordered Chinese for dinner."

"Sounds great. Thanks, Grace."

The screen of my phone lit up and I picked it up to find that I had a message from my dad. He'd sent me the ticket he bought.

I typed a response back.

“You're the worst.”

* * *

The day before my 22nd birthday, I had a huge fight with my dad over something that was likely irrelevant because I couldn't even remember what it was anymore but the fight ended when my father told me I was a disappointment and that he wanted nothing to do with me. So that night, I gave him what he wanted and I packed some of my things and left.

Now nearly three years later, I was back in my childhood home, standing in front of the door to my father's study and trying to build up the courage to go in. For a brief moment, I was a teenager again, about to go into the study to get scolded by my dad for a variety of reasons ranging from mediocre results to getting suspended from school.

The minute I walked into the room, I wanted to turn and run for the hills. It was stupid having this kind of reaction to being in a room but for a moment, I couldn't breathe and I could almost swear the walls were closing in on me. I always hated being called into this room. Most of my worst memories were made in here and being back for the first time in three years had unlocked a can of worms I preferred to keep shut.

But the moment passed. I managed to lock Pandora's Box, shove it back down and make my way over to my father's desk.

At first, I said nothing. I just stood there and watched him work. He also said nothing, basically ignoring my existence. Several minutes passed and I eventually broke the silence. "It's nice to see you again, Dad."

That seemed to be what he was waiting for and he finally looked up at me from the papers he was holding.

He looked cross. "I expected to see you two days ago."

The corner of my lips quirked. I had decided to come back to Manhattan to find out what happened to my sister but to throw off my dad's plan to trap me, I had waited two days before booking another flight at a completely different time.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"You also just got off a four hour flight, Scarlett. This conversation could've waited."

I rolled my eyes, annoyed that he would try, now of all times, to play the role of a caring father. "Please drop the act, Dad. It doesn't suit you and I know you're only stalling so we don't have to talk about the whole reason I'm back."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with an imperceptible expression. "I know I should've informed you but this marriage has to happen, Scarlett."

I scoffed. "You see that's where you have it wrong, Dad. Nothing has to happen because you don't have the right to marry me off to one of your business partners without even having the decency to tell me about it beforehand."

"Have you considered that maybe there's a reason why I did that?"

"I thought it was pretty obvious," I said, unimpressed by his attempt to victimise himself. "This clearly has something to do with the company. You want to get a deal that makes you even more money and decided to use your daughter as a bargaining chip. Stop me if I'm wrong."

My father sighed deeply, massaging his temple with his fingers.

Yeah, he was stressed and not me, the girl he was trying to marry off just to seal a business deal.

I decided to move on to something else. "Where's Layla anyway? You used her to manipulate me into coming back so clearly something happened to her. Real Father of the Year behaviour by the way."

Still massaging his temples with his eyes closed, my father answered, "Believe me, Scarlett, you were not my first option for this marriage. Your sister was and she had agreed to do it before she disappeared two months ago."

I frowned, sure I'd heard my father wrong.

"What do you mean she disappeared?"

"Well, more accurately," he said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a pale pink envelope which he pushed towards me, "she ran away."

My jaw went slack. When did the world turn upside down and why did no one tell me?

I tried and failed to reconcile what my father told me with my memories of a sister I'd known all my life. Layla and I had always been as different as day and night. She lived for my father's approval and had always gotten it because she was perfect. I always fell short of my father's expectations and eventually just ended up doing things I knew would earn his disapproval like running away from home. That was my thing.

Not Layla.

Never Layla.

"Is she dead? You can tell me if she's dead." The words felt like lead on my tongue. I did not want Layla to be dead especially after how badly our last conversation had ended but the truth was that her being dead was far more likely than her running away from home, from my dad and his approval.

My dad was not amused by my question and fixed me with a long and hard look before he looked away. "Read the letter."

I looked down at the pale pink envelope, understanding dawning on me. As a child, Layla had loved sending letters which she'd put in pink envelopes (her favourite colour) with her initials monogrammed at the bottom. It was something she kept doing even as an adult and it became something of a signature for her in high society.

As I opened the envelope, pulling out the letter folded inside, I caught a whiff of Layla's signature scent of carnations. In spite of everything, it made me smile. It was just like Layla to spray something like a goodbye letter with her perfume.

Written in Layla's scrawling script, the letter read:

“Dad, I know how much this marriage means to you but I can't do it. I can't do much of anything really. I'm just so tired. Please don't look for me. You won't find me but I hope you don't try. I'll be back. I don't know when but I'll be back and I hope you can forgive me whenever that is.

P. S.: If you're reading this, Lettie, I'm sorry. You were right.”

Lettie was her special nickname for me. I always told her it was a ridiculous nickname but truthfully it sounded perfect coming from her.

I read the letter about three more times and each time, the last line made my chest tighten. By the time I finally put the letter down, my eyes stung with tears. I knew exactly what she meant and never in a million years would I have thought she'd agree with me.

I looked up at my father and wondered what he'd say if I told him I contributed to Layla leaving. He would probably disown me for real.

I considered doing just that, if only to get out of this marriage he was forcing on me but I found myself hesitating because I was looking at my father. And I mean actually looking at him.

I saw the bags under his eyes, the dull look in his eyes, his droopy shoulders... He was tired. Exhausted even. And he'd aged. I got the feeling that this has less to do with the three years that'd passed since I'd seen him last and more with Layla leaving.

"So..." My father looked at me pointedly and I took a minute to consider my next words. In spite of my issues with my father, Layla's leaving had clearly not been easy on him and I didn't want to upset him further. "You want me to marry this person in Layla's place."

"That's right, Scarlett."

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I can't do it. I really don't—"

"The company's going bankrupt, Scarlett," he said, cutting me off. I swallowed as he went on. "That's why this marriage has to happen. I need this deal to save the company and the marriage is part of the terms. Without it, the deal doesn't happen and if it doesn't happen, I will lose the company, our house, everything. Surely you don't want that to happen."

I heaved a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. This was supposed to be easy. Now I had a bit of a headache. "I'm sorry this is happening to you, Dad but I'm not getting married to anyone. You just have to find another way to save the company." I turned to leave the room when I heard something that stopped me in my tracks.

"Please." I turned back to see that my dad was now on his feet with his hands pressed to the table staring at me with the most earnest look I'd seen on his face in a very long time. "I haven't asked a lot from you, Scarlett. But I need you to do this. Please."

This was gonna be harder than I thought. My father was not one to plead for anything and to hear him plead with me of all people, he must've been really desperate. It was enough to shake my resolve, if only for a second.

I exhaled shakily and shook my head. "I wish I could help you, Dad. But I'm afraid I have to disappoint you yet again. I can't do this for you, Dad. I'm sorry." Then I left the room.

I'd thought I might have to spend the night in Manhattan but with the marriage business hopefully concluded, I was done with the city. It brought back far too many memories that I had no interest in dealing with so I took a taxi back to the airport and tried to book the quickest flight back to Colorado.

Luckily there was a flight leaving in about two hours. I tried to get a ticket at the counter but what should've taken two minutes at most was prolonged by the lady at the desk who kept flashing nervous looks at me then at her computer.

"I'm sorry. Is something wrong?" I asked, more than a little unnerved by the way she was looking at me.

"Oh, um, it's nothing... but I can't give you a ticket."

"Why not?" I demanded.

She flinched at my tone and took a minute before responding, "W-well, according to the system, you're not allowed to fly."

"What do you mean? I got off a flight at this airport less than two hours ago."

"I really don't know what's going on, Miss. It just says here that you're banned from flying. Please give me a second." She picked up the phone and while she called whoever, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and put a call through to the only person I knew who had any reason to keep me trapped in New York.

My father picked up on the third ring. "What exactly are you trying to pull here, Dad?" I demanded, eyes narrowed.

"You're going to have to be clearer than that, Scarlett."

"Can you not do this? It's not funny," I growled, rolling my eyes. "I don't know what strings you pulled to get me put on the No Fly List but make it go away!"

"Scarlett, I have no idea what you're talking about and I don't have enough influence to pull off something like that especially on such short notice." He went silent for a brief moment before adding, "I do know someone who does though."

"Who?" I demanded, my eyebrows drawn tight.

"Your future husband," he announced in a deadpan voice.

Before I could think of something to say to that, I felt someone tap my shoulder and I turned around to find two stern looking men in suits with badges out.

"Miss, we're with the TSA. Can you come with us please?"

The sound of the dial tone went off in my ear letting me know that my father had hung up. My grip tightened around my phone as my hand fell to my side.

The next time I saw my dad, I was actually going to kill him.

SCARLETT

Five hours ago, I'd been in my small but beautiful Colorado apartment, debating whether it was wise to come back to Manhattan. I eventually decided it was worth it and now I was in a holding room at the airport being gawked at by a TSA agent.

I buried my face in my hands, suddenly wishing I'd never gotten out of bed this morning.

The door to the room opened just then and the second agent walked into the room, scratching the back of his head with a puzzled look on his face. He called his partner over and they talked in hushed voices, occasionally glancing back at me. Eventually, the agent who'd been staring turned back to me and addressed me, "Sit tight, Miss Monroe. We'll be right back." Then they left the room, closing the door behind them.

Finally alone, I got up from my chair and began to pace the frigid room. I didn't have my phone with me— the TSA officers had taken it from me as soon as they took me in— and it was probab