Substitute Bride: My Mysterious Loser Husband

AVERY POV:

"I've given myself to you entirely. When are you finally going to dump Avery?"

The woman's sweet voice drifted through the half-open bedroom door, accompanied by a soft giggle and the rustle of tangled sheets.

"Fuck, Sienna, don't talk about Avery right now," the man groaned, his voice rough with lust.

The woman clearly wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Why not? She's just a charity case our family took in. In our house, even the dogs have a higher status than she does. What's so good about her? She won't even let you touch her lately. Trevor, I'm the one wearing your jersey right now, and I'm the one making you feel good."

Trevor didn't argue. He just grabbed her waist and thrust harder, drawing a loud, triumphant moan from Sienna that echoed in the dead-silent apartment.

I stood frozen in the narrow entryway, listening to every single word. The exhaustion in my eyes hardened into a layer of ice as the cruel reality washed over me.

I had just rushed here from Massachusetts General Hospital. Hannah, the nanny who had raised me and the only real mother I had ever known, had just been diagnosed with end-stage liver failure.

In my hands was a custom Briar University hockey cake. To afford it for our three-year anniversary, I spent my days caring for Hannah at the hospital and my nights scrubbing greasy plates in a diner kitchen until dawn. My hands were raw and peeling from the dish soap, and I had skipped meals just to save up every penny.

And now, my boyfriend of three years was inside, fucking my stepsister.

My fingers went completely numb.

The cake box slipped from my grasp.

Thud.

It hit the hardwood floor with a deafening sound. The box burst open, and the carefully crafted blue and white frosting smeared into a pathetic, meaningless puddle.

The heavy breathing in the bedroom stopped dead.

The door was yanked open.

Trevor stood there, chest heaving, his hair a sweaty mess. Behind him, emerging from the rumpled sheets, was Sienna.

My breath hitched, and a physical wave of nausea hit me. She wasn't just naked underneath; she was wearing Trevor's blue and white game jersey. The one with his name and number on the back. In the hockey world, this was the ultimate symbol of a player claiming his girl. Yet, in our three years together, he had never let me wear it once. He used to look at me with disguised disgust, claiming I was too "shabby" and that putting his jersey on a girl like me would "cheapen his image" in front of his teammates. But now, this "sacred" jersey was draped loosely over Sienna's naked body.

Trevor's eyes widened in sheer panic when he saw me. "Avery! Wait, it's not what you think-"

"It's exactly what she thinks," Sienna purred, sauntering forward like a lazy cat and cutting him off. She leaned against his bare chest, her eyes raking over my faded jeans and tired face with absolute disdain. "You should have some self-awareness, Avery. Trash like you was never good enough for him."

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just stood there, feeling a strange, icy detachment, as if I were watching a poorly written play.

"Avery, let's be reasonable," Trevor stammered, taking a step forward but carefully keeping Sienna behind him. His panic quickly twisted into a sickeningly defensive and accusatory tone. "Look at yourself! You constantly reek of cheap hospital disinfectant and poverty. You walk around looking like a miserable old woman! You dump all your energy into that half-dead nanny of yours. Have you even acted like a girlfriend lately? I'm a normal guy, a star player! I need a woman who makes me look good at parties, not a depressing caretaker! If you want to blame someone, blame that deadweight nanny of yours. She dragged you down, and she ruined us!"

I stared at the man I had loved for three years as if he were a grotesque, unrecognizable monster. Pure, unadulterated rage twisted in my gut like a rusty knife, making my entire body tremble violently. I bit my lip so hard I tasted the metallic tang of blood.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, violently interrupting his pathetic gaslighting.

The screen read: Massachusetts General Hospital.

My trembling fingers swiped to answer. A nurse's cold, professional voice filled my ear. "Ms. Hayes? Regarding Hannah Miller's treatment plan. We must remind you that the $50,000 surgical fee must be paid within seventy-two hours. Otherwise, we will have to discharge her."

The room spun. I gripped the doorframe tightly to keep from falling.

In the dead silence, Sienna overheard the voice on the other end. She let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Oh, still begging for pennies for that dying old bat?" Sienna sneered, trailing a manicured nail down Trevor's chest. "Avery, you can't even feed yourself, how are you supposed to save anyone else? Or better yet, considering how much of his time you've wasted, maybe Trevor can throw you a few hundred bucks out of pity?"

A flicker of guilt crossed Trevor's face. "Sienna, that's enough," he muttered, trying to salvage a shred of his "good guy" image. But he still didn't push her away.

I took a deep breath, the icy air filling my lungs. I ended the call.

In the next second, I stepped forward, raised my raw, peeling hand, and slapped Trevor across his hypocritical face with every ounce of strength I had left.

SMACK!

The sharp, crisp sound exploded in the dead-silent living room. His head snapped to the side, a bright red handprint instantly blooming on his cheek.

I ignored his shocked expression and Sienna's dramatic gasp.

"Keep the trash, Sienna," I said, dropping my hand. I looked at them as if they were rats in a gutter, my voice eerily calm. "You two deserve each other. A bitch and a dog, a match made in hell."

AVERY POV:

The biting Boston winter wind slapped my face as I burst out of the building, but it couldn't cool the boiling disgust in my veins.

"Avery! Will you just stop throwing a tantrum?"

Heavy footsteps pounded behind me. Trevor, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a custom Briar Hockey jacket, rushed out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, almost punishing.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I violently yanked my arm away, wiping my wrist against my jeans.

He sighed, rolling his eyes as if I were a misbehaving child. "Look, I said I was sorry, okay? Sienna and I... it was just physical. She threw herself at me. You know how rich girls are, they're used to getting what they want. Plus, her family has connections that can get me drafted into the NHL."

He actually sounded proud of it. He stepped closer, his tone shifting into a sickening, condescending whisper. "But you know you're the one I actually want to come home to. You're good at taking care of me. Listen, I know you're desperate for Hannah's surgery money. If you just calm down, act like a good girlfriend, and pretend this didn't happen, I can ask Sienna to give me some money to lend to you. Think about it, Avery. It's a win-win."

I stared at him, my blood running completely cold.

He wanted to use the money from his cheating partner to "buy" my silence and keep me as his obedient little maid.

I looked at the expensive, custom leather jacket he was wearing. I bought that for him. To afford it, I ate cheap instant noodles for three months and wore thrift store clothes with holes in the pockets.

Memories of the past three years flashed before my eyes like a mocking highlight reel. I remembered waking up at 5:00 AM every single day to meal-prep his strict athlete diet. I remembered kneeling on the freezing bathroom floor, massaging his bruised knees with ice packs after every brutal game while he complained about the pain. I even gave up a prestigious out-of-state design internship just so I could stay in Boston and "support his hockey dreams."

I gave him my youth, my sweat, and every penny I had. And in return, he thought my dignity could be bought with a few scraps of charity.

A bitter, raw laugh escaped my lips. "A win-win?" I whispered, shaking my head. "Trevor, you are truly the most disgusting, narcissistic piece of garbage I have ever met."

Before he could react, I reached up and violently unclasped the thin silver chain around my neck. The pendant-a tiny ice hockey puck engraved with our initials-was his first and only gift to me.

I threw it as hard as I could. The metal struck his cheekbone with a sharp smack before clattering onto the icy concrete.

Then, I reached into my pocket, pulled out the few crumpled twenty-dollar bills I had left, and threw them directly at his face. The bills fluttered down around him.

"Here," I sneered, my voice dripping with absolute contempt. "Consider that payment for your 'services' over the last three years. Though honestly, you weren't even worth that much. We're done."

Trevor stood frozen, staring at the scattered cash. His arrogant facade cracked, replaced instantly by a livid, bruised ego.

"You ungrateful bitch!" he snarled, his true colors finally showing. "You think you're so high and mighty? Look at you! Without me, you're nothing but a broke, pathetic orphan! Good luck finding anyone else who will put up with your depressing life!"

My phone chimed. A text from Sienna.

It was a photo. She was wearing Trevor's jersey, posing in front of the smashed anniversary cake on the floor, holding up a manicured middle finger. Caption: Thanks for the cake and the man, loser.

The grief I should have felt was instantly incinerated by white-hot rage.

I didn't give Trevor another glance. I blocked Sienna's number, blocked his, and walked away into the dark street. I didn't shed a single tear. Crying was a luxury for the weak, and I had exactly 71 hours left to save Hannah.

AVERY POV:

I sat in front of the laptop all night, the blue light burning my eyes.

I scrolled through countless job sites and forums. Waitressing, tutoring, barista gigs... the pay was a drop in the ocean compared to the hundreds of thousands of dollars the hospital needed.

I looked up student loans for medical school, even radical clinical trials. Nothing worked. I didn't qualify, or it would take too long.

Sunlight streamed through the window, but I felt no warmth. Only a deep, gnawing chill.

A heavy, impatient knock on my door shattered the morning silence.

I opened it, expecting my roommate. Instead, Trevor stood there. He looked slightly disheveled, holding a bouquet of cheap white roses from a corner store.

He didn't look remorseful. He looked annoyed.

"Finally," he grumbled, pushing past me into the apartment without an invitation. "Sienna is a nightmare in the morning. She doesn't even know how to use a coffee machine, and she complained about the sheets not being silk. I'm starving, Avery. Make me those blueberry pancakes I like."

He shoved the roses toward my chest. "Here. I bought you flowers. Now stop being dramatic and let's move on."

I stared at him, utterly paralyzed by the sheer audacity of this man.

He actually thought a bouquet of cheap gas-station flowers was enough to erase his betrayal. He expected me to just tie on an apron and cook for him, exactly like the obedient servant I had been for three years.

A fresh wave of nausea hit me. I snatched the roses from his hands.

"See? I knew you'd come around-" he started to smirk.

Snap.

I broke the stems in half and dumped the ruined flowers directly into the trash can by the door.

"I told you last night," I said, my eyes dead and hollow. "Keep the trash. Now get the hell out of my apartment before I call the cops."

Trevor's smirk vanished. His face flushed a dark, ugly red.

"Are you out of your mind?" he yelled, his voice echoing in the small room. "I swallowed my pride to come here and give you a way out! You have zero money, Avery! That old nanny of yours is probably taking her last breath right now! If you kick me out, who the hell is going to help you? You'll be crawling back to me on your knees by tomorrow!"

"I would rather watch you burn in hell than ever beg you for a single cent," I said, my voice eerily calm.

I shoved him hard in the chest, forcing him out into the hallway, and slammed the door in his face, locking the deadbolt.

He pounded on the door a few times, shouting curses, before finally stomping away.

But getting rid of a piece of garbage didn't solve my nightmare. The countdown was ticking. 48 hours left.

My hands trembled violently as I picked up my phone and dialed the one number I had sworn never to call.

Fiona Pierce. My adoptive mother.

The phone rang so long I thought she'd ignore it. Finally, she answered. The sound of clinking teacups and classical music played in the background.

"Avery?" Her voice was clipped, laced with extreme impatience. "Make it quick. I'm having morning tea with Mrs. Knight."

I swallowed my pride, crushing it into dust. "Mom... it's Hannah. Her liver failure is terminal. The hospital needs fifty thousand dollars by tomorrow for the transplant surgery. Please, I'm begging you. Can you and Dad help me?"

A long, chilling silence followed.

Then, Fiona let out a soft, elegant laugh that made my blood run cold.

"Fifty thousand dollars?" she mused, as if discussing the price of a cheap pair of shoes. "Avery, I just spent twice that amount on a custom diamond collar for my poodle. But for that old, useless nanny?"

Her voice suddenly dropped, sharp and merciless as a razor blade. "We took you in to boost the Pierce Group's charitable image. We paid for your tuition. That is where our 'generosity' ends. Hannah is a servant. Her cheap life isn't worth a single cent of my money."

"But she raised me!" I choked out, tears of pure desperation finally blurring my vision. "She's family!"

"She's a nobody!" Fiona snapped viciously. "And so are you. Remember your place, Avery. You are a stray dog we allowed into our yard. Dogs don't get to make demands."