3

The morning light pierced through the heavy curtains of Wyatt's penthouse, striking his face with glare. He groaned, rubbing his temples as the pounding in his head intensified. 

Sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair, Last night was a disaster. He thought.

The memories were blurry, but the one thing he couldn't forget was the news that had driven him to the bar his marriage to Sophia Carter.

He dragged himself out of bed, every step feeling heavier than the last, and headed to the bathroom. Standing under the hot shower, Wyatt tilted his neck, wincing slightly.

Something felt... off. 

As the water streamed down his body, his eyes caught sight of the scratch mark on his neck in the mirror. He leaned closer, examining it. 

"What the hell?" he whispered, frowning. Then his hand flew to his chest, searching for the familiar chain that always hung there. 

It was gone. 

"No, no, no," he growled, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. He stormed into his bedroom and grabbed his phone. 

"Andrew!" he barked into the receiver when his assistant picked up. 

"Good morning, Mr. Blackwell," Andrew replied cautiously. 

"Don't 'good morning' me. My locket is missing. The one with the photo in it. You know how important it is." Wyatt's tone was ice cold. 

"Missing? Are you sure?" Andrew asked nervously. 

Wyatt clenched his jaw. "Do I sound unsure to you? I was at that bar on the outskirts last night. Go back there. Search every inch of that place. I want it back!" 

"Right away, sir," Andrew stammered before the line went dead. 

An hour later, Wyatt sat in the conference room, staring blankly at the presentation on the screen. His mind wasn't on business but on the missing locket. 

"Sir, does this timeline work for the project?" one of the managers asked cautiously. 

Wyatt's glare silenced the entire room. "Next week!"

"Next week? But Mr. Blackwell, you have your wedding next week." One of the employees stated.

"I don't care, I want it by next week." He commanded. 

The manager quickly nodded and clicked to the next slide, trying to avoid further wrath. 

By the time the meeting ended, Wyatt's patience was thinner than ever. He returned to his office, where Andrew waited nervously, along with a tailor holding three carefully selected wedding suits. 

Wyatt's scowl deepened. "What now?" 

"Your mother sent these suits for you to choose from for the wedding," Andrew said, avoiding eye contact. 

Wyatt waved his hand dismissively. "I'm not in the mood for this. Call the driver and security guard up here. Now." 

A few moments later, his driver and guard entered, exchanging confused glances. 

"Pick one," Wyatt ordered, pointing at the suits. 

"Sir?" the driver asked hesitantly. 

"You heard me," Wyatt said sharply. "Pick the one you like best." 

The men exchanged a nervous look before each chose a suit. Wyatt smirked darkly. "Congratulations. They're yours." 

"Sir, we can't—" the driver began. 

"You can and you will," Wyatt interrupted. He grabbed the last remaining suit and tossed it onto the chair. "That one will do for the wedding. Now get out." 

The men left, stammering their thanks, while Andrew stood frozen in disbelief. 

"Why are you still standing there?" Wyatt snapped. 

"Uh," Andrew said quickly.

"Well?" Wyatt growled, his sharp gaze piercing through his assistant. 

Andrew swallowed hard. "Sir, I went to the bar early this morning, as you asked." 

"And?" Wyatt snapped, his voice growing colder. 

"I... I couldn't find it," Andrew admitted, avoiding eye contact. "The staff there said they didn't see anything matching your description." 

For a moment, the room was eerily silent. Then, in a flash of fury, Wyatt grabbed the glass of water and banged it to the floor. 

The glass shattered into pieces, scattering across the floor.

"You couldn't find it?" Wyatt spat, standing abruptly. "That locket isn't just some piece of jewelry, Andrew! It's irreplaceable!" 

"I...I understand, sir," Andrew stammered, stepping back cautiously. 

Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to control his temper. As the adrenaline coursed through him, fragmented memories from the previous night surfaced. 

A girl. He had helped a girl. She'd been covered in alcohol, screaming. 

He looked up sharply. "Wait. The girl. The one who got splashed with a drink last night." 

Andrew blinked, confused. "Girl, sir?" 

"Yes, the one who was crying and panicking. She bumped into me," Wyatt muttered, his mind racing. "She must have the locket. She could've taken it without realizing." 

"Do you want me to track her down?" Andrew asked, already pulling out his phone. 

Wyatt's jaw clenched as he nodded. "Find her. Now." 

Andrew didn't need another word. He rushed out of the office, weaving through the corridors. As he stepped into the elevator, his phone rang. The screen flashed:

Eleanor Blackwell.

Andrew groaned under his breath and reluctantly answered. "Yes, Mrs. Blackwell?" 

"Andrew," Eleanor's polished voice chimed. "Has Wyatt decided on a suit for the wedding?" 

"Yes, ma'am. The suit has been selected," Andrew lied smoothly, his tone masking his inner turmoil. 

"Good," Eleanor replied. "I trust everything will go perfectly. No excuses, Andrew." 

"Of course, ma'am," he assured her before ending the call. 

As he stepped out of the elevator and headed toward the car, Andrew wiped the sweat from his brow.

He muttered to himself, "Both mother and son are absolutely insane." 

Sliding into the driver's seat, he sighed heavily.

"Why do I even bother?" He started the car, mentally preparing for the chaos if he's unable to find the alcohol girl.

The phone on Wyatt's desk buzzed, cutting through the silence of his office. He didn't bother glancing up from the files he was reading. 

"Yes?" he answered gruffly. 

"Sir," came the receptionist's nervous voice. "The photographers for the couple shoot have arrived." 

Wyatt froze for a moment, the reality of the day hitting him like a freight train. The couple shoot. Of course.

After yesterday's chaotic announcement of his wedding to Sophia Carter, today was the day the world would see their "perfect" union plastered all over tabloids and newspapers. 

He slammed his fist into the desk, making the papers scater. "Fantastic," he muttered sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. "Has Ms. Carter graced us with her presence yet?" 

"Yes, sir. She just arrived," the receptionist replied timidly. 

Wyatt sighed "Tell the photographers to wait. I'm coming." 

As he strode toward the exit, his mind wandered. This marriage wasn't just another deal; it was the first and only request his mother had made since the incident. And no matter how much it twisted his insides, he couldn't say no to her. 

Sophia Carter.

The name was enough to make anyone shudder. Known as a rich, spoiled brat, Sophia had earned a reputation for being emotionless and manipulative. A woman who could bend the world to her will if it meant getting her way. 

But then again, Wyatt wasn't much better. Ruthless, cold, and entirely consumed by his work, he'd long stopped caring about what others thought of him.

Maybe that was why their parents had seen this as a match made in heaven.

As he stepped into the  lounge where the photographers waited, Wyatt's gaze instatly locked on a woman standing in the center of the room. 

There she was. Sophia. Or so he thought. 

She wore a red strapless bodycon dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips gleamed with bold red lipstick, matching her sky-high stilettos. Her hair was tied into a sleek bun, and a dazzling diamond necklace adorned her neck, practically screaming wealth.

"Of course," Wyatt muttered under his breath. "She's a show-off." 

The murmurs of Mr. Blackwell from the staff faded into the background as the woman turned around to face him. 

Their eyes met. 

"Ms. Carter," Wyatt said, his tone cold and measured. 

"Mr. Blackwell," she replied smoothly, her lips curling into a polite smile. 

Her voice was different....softer, almost hesitant. Something about her seemed... different.

But Wyatt dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. She was Sophia Carter, after all. The facade was just part of her charm.

Little did he know, the woman standing before him wasn't Sophia at all. It was Juniper, trying her best to mimic the heiress she was being forced to impersonate.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she met Wyatt's intense gaze, praying he wouldn't notice the cracks in her act. 

"Shall we?" Juniper asked, gesturing toward the waiting photographers with a calm she didn't feel. 

Wyatt didn't respond, merely motioning for her to follow as he strode toward the set.