Chapter 1

Tags: Arranged Marriage, Comatose Billionaire, Sweet Revenge, Family Betrayal, Dual Retribution

When the city’s most feared billionaire titan, Damien Sterling, ended up in a coma after a violent car crash, an eccentric spiritual advisor declared that only an auspicious bride could break the curse and awaken him.

The woman chosen was my half-sister, Chloe Vance.

The moment the matchmakers left our house, Chloe smashed her porcelain cup onto the floor. "Why should I marry a living corpse? I'm only twenty-two!"

My stepmother, Lydia, pulled her into a tearful embrace. "Victor, how could you let our precious daughter live as a glorified widow?"

Then, Lydia turned and pointed a sharp, manicured finger straight at me.

"Make her go."

"They share the exact same birthday, and she's the older sister. It's her duty to take Chloe's place."

My father patted Chloe's hand, then turned his cold eyes toward me.

"You're the one getting married. You're marrying into the most powerful family in the country—consider it a blessing."

The moment I was escorted into Damien’s sterile hospital room, a dark smile touched my lips.

Tucked away in the lining of my coat was my late mother's secret holistic formula—a medical miracle she had died protecting.

And it was the one thing that could bring Damien Sterling back to life.

The news of Damien Sterling’s catastrophic crash and subsequent vegetative state sent shockwaves through the country's high society.

While the elite gossiped, I was on my knees in the cold, damp basement of the Vance mansion, scrubbing laundry by hand.

Three days later, representatives from the Sterling family arrived at our front door.

They claimed Damien was hanging on by a thread. An esteemed astrologer had calculated that only a bride born under an exact celestial alignment could ward off his impending death.

That girl was supposed to be my half-sister, Chloe.

As soon as the Sterling envoys politely took their leave, Chloe slammed her teacup onto the marble floor.

"Why should I have to marry a living corpse?" she shrieked. "I'm only twenty-two!"

Ceramic shards scattered everywhere. Lydia rushed over, wrapping her arms around her sobbing daughter.

"Victor, Chloe is our flesh and blood. How could you condemn her to a life with a vegetable?"

Lydia whipped around, fixing a venomous glare on me.

"Send her instead."

"They were born on the very same day, and she's the older sister. She should suffer in Chloe's place."

I kept my head bowed, my fingernails digging deeply into my palms.

Chloe and I were born on the same day, but nobody outside these walls knew the truth: Chloe was the illegitimate child, conceived in secret while my mother was still the rightful wife.

My father, Victor Vance, gave Chloe an affectionate pat on the shoulder, then turned his gaze toward me.

"You'll take her place."

"After all, you're marrying into unimaginable wealth. You should be thanking us."

I looked up, staring into his eyes.

He didn't even flinch. He looked at me as if I were a complete stranger rather than his biological daughter.

"Fine," I said softly.

Chloe blinked in surprise, then broke into a smug, triumphant smirk.

Victor immediately dialed the Sterling family to propose the switch. At first, they were reluctant. But once Victor explained that we shared the exact birth hour and the astrologer gave his blessing, they agreed.

Lydia patted my shoulder with a sickeningly rare display of warmth. "Be on your best behavior when you get to the Sterling estate. Don't embarrass the Vance name."

Without a word, I turned on my heel and walked back down into the basement.

In the darkest corner lay an old, worn winter coat that my mother had left behind. With trembling fingers, I reached into the hidden seam and drew out a yellowed piece of parchment.

This was the ancestral holistic formula my mother had guarded with her life.

It was also the very treasure Victor had plotted to steal when he deceived my mother into marriage, ultimately driving her to an early grave. He had never managed to get his hands on it.

Early the next morning, a sleek black Maybach pulled up in front of the Vance residence.

Carrying nothing but a battered little suitcase, I opened the door and slid into the leather interior.

The car drove for over an hour, cutting across the city before winding up a private mountain road. It finally stopped before a sprawling, gated estate.

Standing outside the grand entrance was a distinguished middle-aged couple.

The man had silver hair and an upright, commanding posture—Arthur Sterling, the patriarch of the Sterling dynasty.

Beside him stood a graceful woman with kind eyes and soft laugh lines—Eleanor Sterling.

They were waiting for me personally.

I froze, caught off guard.

Eleanor hurried forward, taking both of my hands into hers. Her eyes glistened with tears.

"Sweetheart, you've been put through so much," she whispered. "From now on, this is your home."

Her hands were warm. So warm that a lump rose in my throat.

In all my years growing up in the Vance household, no one had ever looked at me with such genuine tenderness.

Arthur Sterling spoke in a deep, steady tone. "As long as you wish to stay here, the Sterling family will protect you and provide for you."

I swallowed the knot in my chest and nodded. "Thank you."

Eleanor personally led me up to the third floor, stopping at the master suite at the end of the corridor.

The heavy mahogany doors opened, and the sharp scent of antiseptic rushed over me.

A man lay motionless on the massive bed.

His eyes were closed, his face pale, his chiseled body hooked up to an intricate maze of monitors and IV tubes.

Damien Sterling.

Once the most feared, ruthless tycoon in the business world, he now lay utterly helpless, like a fragile porcelain doll.

Eleanor stood behind me, speaking in a quiet murmur.

"If this ever becomes too much, or if you wish to return home, you can leave at any time. There is no pressure."

"We will never force you to stay."

I shook my head firmly. "I'm not leaving."

Arthur sighed gently, giving my shoulder a supportive squeeze, before leading his wife out of the room.

Once the door clicked shut, I walked to the edge of the bed and looked down at Damien’s pale, sculpted face.

"Damien Sterling," I murmured under my breath. "I'm going to bring you back."