(Not) The Billionaire's Replacement Bride

I stared at that luxurious house. The house that caused my mother to leave me and my father. A house like a palace but filled with monsters inside. I smiled bitterly. If only my father hadn't forced me to come here to deliver the wedding gift. I didn't want to come on my own.

I exhaled and got out of the car. How long had it been since I last saw the woman who was supposed to be my mother? A year? Two years? Ah, yes. Fifteen years. Once again, I smiled bitterly. I didn't hate my "mother," or more accurately, my father forbade me from hating her. A wicked woman who took my sister and left my father just because he went bankrupt and hit rock bottom.

My father, a good man, always forgiving but ultimately abandoned. Sorry, I'm not a gentle-hearted girl like my father. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Because even though my father instilled goodness in me, I grew up to be a cunning girl like my mother.

The servants looked at me with their mouths agape. Why? Are you surprised? Of course, they would be shocked to see me, the famous bride-to-be known for being gentle, loving, and ethical, walking freely. Hmm, one more fact I need to tell you. My sister and I are twins. Identical twins. I, the older one, was born five minutes before her, the obedient and gentle girl.

Ugh. I even want to spit on her. Like mother, like daughter. See, even when we were ten years old, my younger twin knew what would benefit her more. Living with a poor and miserable father or choosing to leave with her mother and prepare for a more comfortable life. Hate? No. My father said I shouldn't hate. "It will only rot your heart," he always said.

Okay, I won't hate. But if I feel disgusted? Is that okay?

My stiletto tapped the marble floor with a resounding echo. Only in my ears, of course, given the crowd's noise; it couldn't possibly be quiet, right?

The large teakwood door with intricate carvings swung wide open, and the bustling sounds of servants moving around with their decorations filled the air. With confidence, I entered the magnificent house, searching for someone I hoped I could still recognize after not seeing her for nearly a third of my life.

"Mommy, that's Karen!" A young boy pointed towards me. I glanced in his direction. Judging by his stature, he might be around 10 or 11 years old. His shout made several adults turn their gaze towards me. Smile? I'm not a friendly person. Sorry about that. My smiles are expensive.

"Sorry, I'm not Karenina," I replied cynically. "I'm here to find Mrs. Caitlyn," I said flatly.

A beautiful woman with a well-maintained face, an undoubtedly expensive and sleek dress, looked in my direction. "Ariana..." she whispered softly. Apparently, she still remembered my name. Should I smile? Or laugh?

With a quick yet graceful movement, the woman approached, extending her arms as if to hug me. But I recoiled. Sorry, it's just a reflex. To me, she was more like a germ to be avoided than a 'Mother' to be loved.

"Don't. Dare. Approach. And touch me," I said, enunciating each syllable. The woman froze. So did the people around. "I didn't come here to be warmly welcomed. I just came to deliver this." I handed over a gift, a check left by my father for my sister. Where's my twin? I didn't see her.

The woman in front of me reached for the paper, then began to cry softly. Sad? My heart had gone numb a long time ago. That's why I didn't feel touched at all. "Alright. My business here is done. I have to go." I turned to leave.

"Wait," she pleaded. I paused for a moment. "Please, Ariana. Please, Mama." She begged softly. I turned to look at her. She gazed at me with hopeful eyes. "Ka-Karen. She's gone. Please help Mama." She asked again.

"Gone?" I asked cynically. "Your daughter is missing? So, what's that got to do with me?" I turned away again, but someone held me back. I tried to push them away roughly. There was a crash and gasps of surprise filled my ears. Then something bumped into me. I stumbled, but luckily, I had good balance. I only staggered a couple of steps.

"Why are you being rough with Mommy!" the boy shouted angrily, looking at me. I saw a man already helping the woman.

"Can't you see they're fine, your Mommy, I mean. Instead of bumping into me like an angry rabbit, why don't you help her stand? Good child?" I replied with sarcasm. The boy looked at me with fear. Sorry, I'll say it again; I'm not a gentle girl. And I don't like troublesome things.

"Ariana. I beg you, please help me. Just this once." She begged with a whimper.

"Why should I help you? You were gone for fifteen years, and now, shamelessly, you're asking for my help? 'I have no connection with you and your father anymore. My daughter is only Karenina. Whatever happens to your father, I no longer care.' Those were your words back then, Madam. So, I'm sorry. I have no business with you and your daughter." I turned and walked away. But once again, someone held me back. This time, they grabbed my leg. What was this? The selfish woman was begging to me now? What kind of drama was she trying to pull off?

"I beg you. Please help me. Karenina is gone. She ran away while her wedding is tomorrow. Ariana, please help me. I begs you"

"I've already told you that I'm nobody to you. You have no right to ask anything of me. Not even the smallest help is appropriate."

"I will pay you, whatever you want," the voice came from the man who had helped the woman and was now being begged by her.

"How much can you pay?"

"Whatever you want. Or whatever you ask for," he replied confidently. A smile appeared on his face.

"Anything?" I challenged. The man's face lit up even more, nodding eagerly. "Anything," he replied assuredly.

"What if I ask for your child's heart as a replacement for the request your wife made?" I asked. The man furrowed his brow. The woman's grip on my leg weakened. "Why? You said you were willing to give 'anything,' right? Doesn't that mean you'd ask for something important to you? So, in return, I'm asking for something you consider important as well," I replied with a warm smile I could offer.

"Ariana..." my mother sighed. I crouched in front of her, aligning my face with her beautiful yet age-weathered face, which still appeared youthful due to expensive treatments.

"Why should I help you? You said 'anything' to me. Doesn't that mean you'd ask for something important to you? So, in exchange, I'm asking for something you consider important too." I answered with a warm smile I could muster.

She turned to look at me with her golden eyes, exactly like mine. I offered the warmest smile I could muster. "I'm sorry, ma'am. But I'm not the poor girl you abandoned back then. So, if you offer money to me, it means nothing to me. Even if I'm still poor right now, I won't accept a single cent you offer." I stood up, letting my voice grow louder. "Dignity?" I shifted my gaze to the man in front of me and the woman now crying at my feet. "To hell with dignity. We lost that when you left us, begging and pleading for you to come back. And your dignity? It's your business. Not mine." And without further ado, I chose to leave.