Chapter 1: The Substitute Bride

“Where is she?” my mother’s voice wobbled on the edge of hysteria. “We are out of time!”

“She’s gone,” my father growled. His face was a mask of fury, flushed red beneath his graying hair. “Charlotte has run off with some lowlife who promised her God knows what. I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen!”

I froze at the doorway of the lavish sitting room, my heart racing. Charlotte, gone? On her wedding day? The same Charlotte who always had a way of getting what she wanted—fame, fortune, admiration? My breath caught in my throat as the weight of those words sank in. If she wasn’t here to marry Damian Cross, our family was doomed.

“I can’t believe this,” my mother whispered, clutching her pearls like they were the only thing holding her upright. “The guests are already arriving. The Cross family will annihilate us. Do you know what this will do to your business, Harold?”

My father’s jaw clenched. “I know exactly what it will do. That's why we have no choice.” His gaze shifted, locking on me with a determination that made my blood run cold.

“No,” I whispered, taking a step back. “Don’t even think about it.”

“You’ll marry Damian in her place.”

The room spun. My palms went clammy. “You’re insane! He’s expecting Charlotte. He loves her—or whatever twisted version of love billionaires like him are capable of. He won’t want me.”

“He doesn’t have to want you,” my father snapped. “He just has to marry you. This isn’t about love. It’s business, and right now, you’re our only bargaining chip.”

I shook my head violently. “I can’t—I won’t do it.”

My mother stepped forward, her eyes glistening with desperation. “Naomi, please. Think of the family. Think of your father’s company. If this wedding doesn’t happen, we lose everything—our home, our reputation. Everything we’ve built will be gone.”

“I’m not Charlotte,” I whispered, voice trembling. “I’m not glamorous or charming or... enough.”

“You’re all we have,” my father said coldly. “So wipe those tears, put on that gown, and walk down the damn aisle. Or you’ll be responsible for this family’s ruin.”

The weight of their expectations crashed down on me, suffocating. My parents had always been clear about their priorities: appearances and success. Love? Happiness? Those were luxuries we couldn’t afford.

I looked at my mother’s pleading face, then at my father’s steely glare. There was no way out.

My chest tightened as I forced the words past my lips. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

---

The bridal suite was a blur of chaos as the stylists swarmed me. Layers of silk and lace rustled around me as they slipped the wedding gown over my head—the gown Charlotte had chosen for herself. It fits too perfectly, like even the dress was in on the cruel joke that I was nothing more than a substitute.

“You look stunning,” the stylist gushed, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

I bit back a bitter laugh. Stunning? I felt like a sacrificial lamb, dressed up for slaughter.

The door creaked open, and Olivia, Charlotte’s best friend and maid of honor, entered, her eyes widening in shock. “Naomi? What the hell is going on?”

“Charlotte’s gone,” I said flatly, avoiding her gaze. “I’m taking her place.”

Her jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious. Damian will—”

“I don’t have a choice,” I cut her off. “Just... please don’t make this harder.”

She hesitated, then nodded, sympathy flickering in her eyes. “You’re braver than I ever thought.”

Bravery had nothing to do with it. Survival did.

---

The grand doors of the cathedral loomed ahead, towering and intimidating. My heart pounded so loudly that I was sure everyone could hear it.

The organ swelled, signaling my entrance. The weight of hundreds of eyes pressed down on me as I took my first step down the aisle.

Damian Cross stood at the altar, tall and imposing in his tailored suit. His chiseled features were set in a mask of cold indifference, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—narrowed the moment they landed on me.

A flicker of confusion crossed his face before it hardened into something darker.

I swallowed hard, my knees threatening to buckle. What had I gotten myself into?

The murmurs from the guests grew louder as realization spread through the crowd. Whispers of “That’s not Charlotte” echoed like daggers in my ears.

“Keep walking,” my father hissed from behind me.

I forced one foot in front of the other, my grip tightening around the bouquet. Each step was a battle against the instinct to turn and run.

As I reached the altar, Damian’s gaze pinned me in place. His voice was low and sharp.

“What the hell is this?”

My throat dried up. “Charlotte... she couldn’t make it.”

His lips curled into a bitter smile. “And they sent you instead? The timid little shadow?”

Anger flared in my chest, momentarily overriding the fear. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“Neither did I,” he said coldly. “But here we are.”

The priest cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the tension crackling between us. “Shall we begin?”

Damian’s jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought he might walk away. But then he nodded stiffly.

The ceremony was a blur of vows and prayers, none of which registered in my mind. All I could focus on was Damian’s icy presence beside me.

When it came time for the rings, his grip was firm, almost punishing as he slid the band onto my finger.

“Do you, Damian Cross, take Naomi Hayes to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the priest intoned.

Damian’s gaze never wavered from mine. The weight of his disdain was suffocating.

“I do,” he said through gritted teeth.

The words felt like a death sentence.

“And do you, Naomi Hayes, take Damian Cross—”

“I do,” I blurted, desperate to get it over with.

The priest smiled nervously. “You may kiss the bride.”

Damian’s expression darkened. He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.

“This changes nothing,” he whispered. “You’re nothing more than a stand-in, and I will never forget it.”

Before I could respond, his lips brushed against mine—a cold, perfunctory kiss that left me trembling.

The crowd erupted into applause, oblivious to the storm brewing between us.

---

As we exited the cathedral, a sleek black limousine awaited us. The moment the door closed behind us, Damian’s cold facade shattered.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m not playing any game,” I shot back. “I didn’t want this any more than you did.”

“Then why the hell are you here?”

“Because my family gave me no choice!” My voice cracked, but I refused to back down. “Charlotte ran away, and they shoved me into her place to save themselves.”

He stared at me, disbelief flickering in his eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw a crack in his icy armor, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Pathetic,” he muttered. “You let them use you like a pawn.”

My fists clenched. “Maybe. But don’t act like you’re any better. You’re just as trapped as I am.”

The car lurched forward, silence thick between us.

“You’ll regret this,” he said finally, his voice cold and unyielding.

“I already do.”

The tension was suffocating, but I refused to let him see how broken I felt.

As the car sped down the road, a sudden explosion of flashing lights filled the windows.

“What the—?” Damian’s voice was cut off as the car screeched to a halt.

Paparazzi swarmed the vehicle, cameras clicking furiously. Shouts of “Damian! Who is she?” and “Where’s Charlotte?” pierced the air.

Damian’s expression turned murderous. “Stay in the car,” he ordered.

But before I could respond, the door was yanked open, and chaos erupted.