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His Wife by Fate, His Ruin by Choice

The richest man in the capital, Victor Lane, had been chasing me for five years, but I never even glanced at him. Because to him, I was just one of many “blind box” wives he planned to collect.

By Margie J DrennonPublished 8 months ago 6 min read
His Wife by Fate, His Ruin by Choice
Photo by Jen P. on Unsplash

The richest man in the capital, Victor Lane, had been chasing me for five years, but I never even glanced at him. Because to him, I was just one of many “blind box” wives he planned to collect.

As long as you were chosen on the eve of his wedding, you’d become the richest man's wife. And I knew without a doubt, I was bound to be picked.

I had already died once. In my previous life, I was the chosen bride, the one everyone envied.

On our wedding day, he got drunk and missed a call from his adopted sister, the only woman he truly loved and mourned when she died suddenly, Julia Watson.

That night, she died of a heart attack.

The next morning, he dragged me to the morgue, grabbed my hair and forced me to kneel down a thousand times before her body.

“Why did you tamper with the lottery? You knew I loved Julia! If I had drawn the empty lot, I could have married her! She died crying, clutching your wedding dress, her dress! She should have been the one I married!”

“You were just a tool to make Julia jealous. Do you think you’re worthy to stand beside me?” Victor’s voice was cold and sharp as he glared at me.

He poured all his grief and anger onto me, blaming me for everything. He had my fingers crushed because I wore the ring meant for Julia. He stripped me and threw me into the river because I wore her wedding dress. In the end, he nailed me into a coffin, his coffin and buried me alive.

When I opened my eyes again, my body was whole, but it ached for five long years. This time, I vowed to change everything. I switched the blind boxes’ order so he would inevitably draw the empty lot. From then on, they could hate or love each other as much as they wanted, but it wouldn’t concern me anymore.

——

“Victor’s number is... the empty lot!”

Gasps rippled through the crowd of ninety-nine women. Everyone knew what this meant: Julia Watson was the one. The rest? They lost their chance to become the richest man’s wife.

“What the hell?!” someone cried, tearing up her slip.

“It’s rigged! This blind box thing is just a sham!”

“Are you crazy?” another hissed, covering her mouth.

“Don’t you get it? We’re just here for the show. Everyone knows how Victor looks at Julia. If we don’t get the empty lot and they pick us, we’re doomed!”

A woman gritted her teeth. “But Julia is his sister...”

“So what? They’re not blood-related; marriage could happen. The rest of us are just fillers. Honestly, the only one with a real chance of surviving this is Jacqueline Smith, number one.”

Calmly, I tore the slip with “number one” written on it from my hand. My fingers trembled involuntarily, the pain from the past still etched deep inside.

Across the room, Victor’s pupils flickered with excitement as he stood and rushed to embrace Jacqueline Smith.

“Jacqueline, this time I picked you. You’re not allowed to run anymore.” Jacqueline blushed and tried to push him away, but he held her tighter.

“But... I’ve always thought of you as a brother.”

“That’s fine. You’ll get used to it. It’s our fate.”

He cupped her face with both hands, but his cold and sharp eyes flew to me. A chill ran down my spine. I instinctively straightened. Could it be, Victor Lane had been reborn too? But even if he had... I owed him nothing.

This time, I gave him what he wanted. I was finally free.

At the head table, Mrs. Lane cleared her throat lightly, a flicker of panic in her eyes. “Victor, Auntie never imagined that out of ninety-nine boxes, you’d actually draw the empty lot. Seems fate truly ties you and Jacqueline Smith.”

“But this result is unexpected. I’ll need to speak with your father.”

Victor’s lips curled in satisfaction. “Of course,” he said, shooting me a challenging glance.

“As for the rest of these women, let them stay at the Lane estate until after our wedding as compensation.”

He thought I would fall apart, that I would cry. But I didn’t. I smiled. I applauded, along with everyone else.

In my previous life, I had also shed tears of joy when I was drawn only to turn around and see Victor Lane’s face pale as death. His eyes had fallen on his adopted sister, not sparing me even a glance.

Now that I had been reborn, I refused to be the pathetic fool I once was.

On stage, Victor suddenly flared up, holding Jessy tightly in his arms. He said coldly that they were “going on a date,” then left without looking back.

With the main characters gone, the remaining ninety-eight women scattered like startled birds.

I was about to return to pack my bags when I was dragged into a corner by Mrs. Lane.

Before I could react, a stinging slap landed on my cheek. “You wretched girl!” she hissed.

“Didn’t I tell you Victor would draw your number? Why did it end up being an empty lot?!” Another slap followed.

“You’re just like your useless father, shameless! I’m your biological mother, not some stranger! I told you to listen to me and you threw my words to the dogs!”

My face burned from the blows, but not as much as my heart did. “The day you married into the Lane Family alongside that cheating brat Julia... that was the day you stopped being my daughter.”

Mrs. Lane’s eyes turned vicious. “If anything happens to Julia because of you, I swear you will pay with your life!”

In my previous life, I had been nailed into a coffin and buried alive. Only then did I realize the results of the blind box had been rigged all along. Of course, Mrs. Lane had wanted Julia to marry into a wealthy family. But she also needed to help Julia hide a secret. And me? I had been the victim of that secret.

Now, I wanted nothing more than to sit back and watch them tear each other apart. Their secrets had nothing to do with me anymore.

I rubbed my swollen cheek, my gaze flat and emotionless. “I’ll be marrying James Burn. Consider it repayment for the money you spent keeping my father alive all these years.”

Her expression wavered.

James Burn was a notorious figure in this city’s social circles, that man rumored to lack any moral compass. His temper was unpredictable and whispers said he indulged both men and women alike.

He was infamous for his countless lovers, with some rumors claiming as many as eight hundred.

And now, he happened to be searching for a wife to bring home.

If I didn’t make a choice myself, Mrs. Lane would surely marry me off to a beggar or brute.

So, I chose James Burn first, because I already knew he was far from the simple playboy everyone thought he was.

Mrs. Lane smiled coldly. “Alright, good daughter. Then wait quietly to be married off.”

She turned and stormed off, twisting her waist with each step.

I let out a breath. My room was at the far west end of the Lane estate and I had to pass through the garden to get there. At that moment, the garden was in an uproar.

Jessy was covering her mouth, sneezing softly. “Victor, my brother,” she whined, “who planted all this lavender? Don’t they know that I’m allergic?”

Victor gently held his handkerchief to her nose, full of concern. Then he turned to the gardener and ordered, “Mow down all the lavender in this field. Get rid of this swing too and clear out any bird nests in the way!”

That patch of lavender had been picked off the roadside by my father, back when he was sober.

He used to say, “When I’m gone, the flowers are, too.”

I stared at the gardener’s shovel; my eyes wide. “Wait!” I shouted.

Everyone paused, glancing nervously at Victor. He frowned, his expression unreadable.

“You think this is your home?” he snapped.

“Do you plant whatever you want? Or are you just trying to trigger Jessy’s allergies?”

When I was five, my father had fallen critically ill. I had run away to the Lane Family, begging Mrs. Lane to help him. She had wanted to kick me out, until Mr. Lane intervened.

“She can stay,” he had said. “We can afford to raise a few charity cases.”

And so, I lived in the Lane Family’s shadow for twenty years. Victor had once taken me quiet, withdrawn me to play with the servants’ children. He had even said, “The Lane Family will always be your home.”

Right next to the lavender was a small wooden plaque, faded and old. Handwritten by Victor when he was a child, it read: “A place that belongs solely to Audrey Grey and me, a home forever.”

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