The Substitute Bride and the CEO's Forbidden Passion

"Claire Wentworth, hurry up and go to the hall first."

"The notary."

"You go first. I'll definitely find the notary," Simone Lefort coaxed her with forced patience.

"I don't trust you!" Claire Wentworth crossed her arms, her eyes filled with disdain.

Simone Lefort's patience vanished in an instant. Habitually, she reached out to pinch Claire Wentworth's arm. "You little wretch, what time is it? Get out right now..."

Claire Wentworth slightly shifted her body to the side, avoiding the outstretched hand. Her pitch - black eyes stared at Simone Lefort lifelessly. "I've said it. The two conditions are non - negotiable. Otherwise, I'll go tell the people from the Montfort family right now that I'm an impostor."

"How dare you!"

Simone Lefort was so angry that her head seemed about to explode. She dared not offend Alexandre Montfort, and now, it seemed, she also dared not offend Claire Wentworth...

In a fit of rage, she stretched out her sharp fingernails again and lunged at Claire Wentworth. "Claire Wentworth, don't be ungrateful! You think..."

Claire Wentworth took a half - step back, dodging the attack once more. Her gaze was icy. "I dare. Do you want to give it a try?"

Simone Lefort's outstretched hand froze in mid - air.

"Claire Wentworth!"

Simone Lefort glared at her with gritted teeth, then retracted her fingers in frustration. She took out her phone and urged David to hurry up, even faster.

Finally, the notary arrived, and the agreements were notarized. Claire Wentworth didn't even change her clothes. She picked up the agreements and was about to leave.

Simone Lefort immediately blocked her way. "Put on the wedding dress!"

"Will putting on the wedding dress make me Victoire Wentworth?" Claire Wentworth's voice was thick with mockery.

Simone Lefort ignored her sarcasm and insisted, "Claire Wentworth, the substitute marriage was what we agreed on. So you must wear the wedding dress. Otherwise, you can't take the agreements out."

Simone Lefort wasn't stupid. Even a substitute marriage had to look decent. If the bride didn't wear a wedding dress, it would be strange if Alexandre Montfort didn't get suspicious.

Seeing her insistence, Claire Wentworth nodded thoughtfully. "Fine, I'll wear it."

The wedding dress was rented by Simone Lefort from a bridal shop. It looked extremely gorgeous, but it had been worn by who - knows - how many brides. Moreover, to ensure that people of various body types could wear it, the wedding dresses in the bridal shop were generally oversized.

After putting it on, Claire Wentworth deliberately loosened the waistband by one centimeter. She looked at herself in the mirror. After making sure that anyone could tell how ill - fitting the dress was, she opened the door and walked out.

Claire Wentworth entered the hall and immediately saw the refined and noble man. Although he was sitting in a wheelchair, his aura was imposing.

Almost simultaneously, Alexandre Montfort's cold gaze swept towards her. With just that one glance, Claire Wentworth's heart suddenly tightened. She felt as if that gaze had penetrated directly into the depths of her soul. The sense of danger made her instantly focus all her attention.

The next second, she heard Alexandre Montfort's emotionless voice. "Are you the bride?"

Claire Wentworth neither affirmed nor denied it. She just swayed her body slightly, causing the empty wedding dress to move gently.

Alexandre Montfort raised his eyebrows, and with a slight movement of his finger, someone beside him "thumped" to their knees. It was Antoine Wentworth, who was forced to kneel on the ground by Alexandre Montfort's men. Claire Wentworth was slightly startled. That an ill - fitting wedding dress could make the other party immediately detect something was amiss truly surprised her.

The next second, Alexandre Montfort's voice, tinged with impatience, rang out coldly. "Where is the real bride?"

Antoine Wentworth panicked. In a flash, he decided to throw Victoire Wentworth under the bus. "Alexandre, don't get the wrong idea. This is just my eldest daughter, Claire Wentworth. The real bride is actually our Victoire Wentworth..."

As soon as Antoine Wentworth tried to sacrifice Victoire Wentworth, Simone Lefort rushed over and "thumped" to her knees beside Antoine Wentworth in front of Alexandre Montfort. "Alexandre, our Victoire Wentworth has a heart condition. She's not in good health and doesn't deserve you. Look at our Claire. Claire is also a good girl. She's healthy, has a good temper, is gentle and ladylike, and is beautiful."

Alexandre Montfort's gaze shifted to Claire Wentworth. He didn't see any beauty, but her indifference was quite obvious. It seemed that the two people kneeling on the ground pleading desperately had nothing to do with her.

Sensing his gaze, Claire Wentworth quickly hid the cold smile at the corner of her mouth and stood up a little more upright.

Alexandre Montfort retracted his gaze, controlled the wheelchair to move forward two steps, and stopped beside Antoine Wentworth and Simone Lefort. "The Wentworth family has no reason to exist anymore! Ryan!"

"Here," a black - clad man behind him responded.

"Take care of it."

"Yes, sir." Ryan replied.

Everyone in the hall shuddered involuntarily. Simone Lefort and Antoine Wentworth's legs went weak, and they slumped to the ground, their faces ashen. It was over. Their Wentworth family was finished!

Just as Alexandre Montfort's wheelchair reached the door, Claire Wentworth, who had been watching like an outsider, suddenly spoke. "Alexandre, if you need a wife, I think I can be one."

Alexandre Montfort raised his hand, and Leo stopped and turned the wheelchair around. He stared at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Claire Wentworth took a deep breath, feeling a bit nervous. She was taking a gamble, betting on her judgment. In her previous life, Alexandre Montfort died less than a month after marrying Victoire Wentworth. Claire Wentworth didn't think that a family like the Montfort family couldn't diagnose that he was a man on the verge of the end of his life. A man with paralyzed legs who knew he might not live long suddenly wanted to get married. There seemed to be only one reason - he needed a wife. And this need was her turning point.

"One minute!" he said.

Claire Wentworth let out a sigh of relief. She understood that he was giving her one minute to convince him.

"Claire Wentworth, female, twenty years old. No bad habits. My love life is blank. Although I have a fiancé, Lucas Moreau, it's just in name. And twenty minutes ago, the engagement was terminated. Here is the agreement to cancel the engagement."

"I'm strong - willed and independent. In the past twenty years, I've never caused any trouble to anyone, and I won't cause you any trouble in the future. I can endure hardships and fatigue. I also know acupuncture and massage."

"After marriage, no matter what you need me to do, I'll fully cooperate and never hold you back. But at the same time, I hope you can respect me and not interfere with my freedom. And when I need help, don't stand by idly."

Claire Wentworth spoke very fast, but her thoughts were well - organized.

Suddenly, a glint of interest flashed in Alexandre Montfort's eyes, and his gaze landed on her. An obviously ill - fitting wedding dress hung loosely on her slender body, as if it could be carried away by the wind at any moment. Her uncombed black hair was messily scattered over her shoulders. Her thick bangs covered most of her eyes and brows. Such a slender and unremarkable girl, where did she get the courage to demand his respect? Moreover, she didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with such a request.

Claire Wentworth's heart was pounding, and she stared at Alexandre Montfort nervously. Would he agree?