Chapter 3: A Deal with the Devil

Adam Bella

"Please, follow us," one of the guards said, his voice polite but leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, I followed, trying to convince myself I wasn’t entirely losing my mind. The moment we stepped outside, my eyes widened. Parked at the curb was a Chrysler Pacifica. My dream car.

I hesitated, fingers lightly tracing the sleek, polished exterior. The surreal nature of the situation sank in deeper.

"Miss, please," the guard prompted, gesturing to the open door.

With one last glance at the car, I slid inside. The soft leather seats cradled me, and for a second, I lost myself in the luxury. Is this really happening?

As I settled, the door clicked shut, and I was jolted back to reality. My soon-to-be husband entered the car without a word, eyes glued to his phone, his presence cold, distant.

"Where are we going?" I asked, breaking the uneasy silence.

Without sparing me a glance, he replied, "To change your clothes. We’re getting married in an hour."

I nearly choked on my own breath. "Wait, what? I thought we were just signing some papers."

He turned to face me, his expression hard. "No. We have to make it real." His gaze was unyielding, his voice carrying a weight I couldn’t quite grasp. "Send me your account details."

I blinked, stunned. Did he just ask for my account information like it was a casual request?

"You don’t even have my phone number," I managed, still trying to process everything.

In a swift motion, he took my phone from my lap, tapped a few buttons, and handed it back. "I do now. Send me the details."

For a second, I thought I’d heard wrong. He doesn’t repeat himself, huh? A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, though I wasn’t sure why.

"And how exactly am I supposed to play this role?" I asked, the absurdity of it all bubbling up inside me.

His eyes flicked back to his phone. "Just be yourself. My assistant will handle the rest."

Be myself? I wanted to laugh. How was I supposed to be myself in this insane situation?

Before I could respond, the car rolled to a stop in front of a mansion, so grand it looked like something out of a movie. As I stepped out, the sheer scale of it hit me  every surface gleamed with polished marble, and the walls were adorned with gold accents.

But that wasn’t the most surreal part.

"Hello, Miss."

I turned to see a woman standing elegantly in the doorway, dressed in an impeccable black suit. My jaw dropped. Cynthia Bailey? The designer every woman in the city dreamed of working with?

This can’t be real.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, feeling small and awkward. "Uh, call me Bella," I stammered, extending my hand. Cynthia Bailey? For me?

She shook my hand, her grip firm and professional. "We must hurry. David Copperfield isn’t a patient man."

David Copperfield. The name rang in my ears. Something about the way she said it made my stomach drop.

"Wait… you mean David Copperfield?" I whispered, as if saying it louder would somehow make this even crazier. "The CEO of the Copperfield Group?"

Cynthia smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes, like she was in on a secret the rest of the world didn’t know. "Yes, him."

The floor seemed to drop out from under me. David Copperfield. The man who could make or break industries with a phone call. The one who built an empire from nothing. I suddenly felt very, very small.

My mind raced. I’d heard the stories, the rumors. David was legendary  not just for his wealth but for his ruthlessness. And now I was about to marry him?

Everything became a blur. I remembered Elowen gossiping about him, how women threw themselves at him, how his childhood love, Jordan, had been his one true heartbreak. But why me? Why now? What was the point of this entire charade?

The air grew thick as realization set in. My heart pounded in my chest as I gripped the edge of a nearby table for support. This isn’t a dream. This is real. I was about to marry David Copperfield, a man feared and admired in equal measure.

A sudden knock on the door snapped me back to reality. "Miss, we need to hurry."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. What had I agreed to?

As Cynthia unveiled the gown  a shimmering piece adorned with what looked like actual diamonds  I stared, wide-eyed. "Is that real?" I blurted out.

Cynthia chuckled softly. "Yes, it is."

I felt the weight of the world pressing down on me as I slipped into the dress. My reflection in the mirror was a stranger. How had my life turned into this?

As she adjusted the final pieces, I couldn’t help but ask, "What about Jordan? David’s childhood lover?"

Cynthia paused, her hands stilling. The air between us grew heavy, and I could see the slightest flicker of something in her eyes. "That," she said quietly, "is none of your concern.”