Chapter 1

After the heiress ran away from her wedding, I took her place for money. One million five hundred thousand dollars a year, paid upfront.

Her husband was insanely handsome and did whatever I said. Honestly, I had nothing to lose. I signed on without hesitation.

A year later, the runaway bride was dragged back. I packed my bags overnight and got ready to disappear. That was when I found out I was pregnant.

I weighed my options and stopped by a café for a milkshake while I thought about whether to keep the baby.

My order number was called. But before I could grab the cup, a hand reached out and snatched it away from me.

Furious, I spun around and found my husband, who was supposed to be halfway across the world, smiling at me. He said, "Hey, sweetheart. I've been worried sick not seeing you these past few days. It's time to come home."

*****

I was just out grabbing a sandwich when I got into a car accident.

My bike skidded off the road and tipped into the bushes. I scraped my palm raw, and it stung like hell.

The car that hit me was a glossy black sedan that screeched to a stop in the middle of the street.

The door flew open. A middle-aged man in a tailored suit jumped out, pale as a sheet. He looked more shaken than I was. "Miss, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," I said, pushing myself up off the pavement. "I wasn't hit. Just got spooked, that's all."

He let out a long breath and hurried over to help me gather my things.

We both stared at the smashed sandwich, and he awkwardly rubbed his nose.

"I'll pay for it..." he started, then stopped when he got a good look at my face. His expression changed. "May I have your last name, Miss?"

I blinked at him. Weird question, but whatever. "Linwood."

He studied my face for a few long seconds. Then he strode back to his car and returned with something in his hand. It was not a business card but a thick stack of cash, bound tight with a bank strap. So thick it made my stomach drop.

I was puzzled. He hit me with a car and somehow knocked the sense out of himself?

"I'm terribly sorry," he said, pressing the money into my hand. It was heavy, solid, and real. "Please take this—for the scare. And... if you don't mind, could I invite you for coffee? There's something rather abrupt I'd like to discuss."

I looked at the money—more than I could save in a year—then at the urgency in his eyes.

When it rains, it pours. And sometimes the pie comes with a trap underneath. But the bait was too good.

"Alright." I stuffed the cash into my beat-up canvas tote.

*****

Inside the coffee shop, Richard Stone had ordered me a cappuccino and then told me a story so outrageous it made daytime soap operas look reasonable.

His daughter, Vivian, had been engaged to Charles Grant, heir to the Grant family fortune. But she bailed on the wedding at the last minute to chase after true love. The Grants were pushing hard for the ceremony to go on as planned.

"Then my driver found you," Richard said, his eyes scanning my face like I was a merchant. "Ms. Linwood, you look quite like my daughter, especially your profile and your eyes."

He showed me a photo on his phone. The girl in it was bright and confident. She looked like me yet nothing like me.

"The wedding's going to be massive, and there will be a lot of guests. With some styling and a little coaching on her mannerisms, no one will notice from a distance." He leaned forward and continued, "Charles has only seen photos of Vivian. He never met her in person. They both grew up overseas."

I gripped my coffee cup, my heart pounding in my chest.

"One year," he said, holding up his index finger. "You'll play Mrs. Grant for a year. I'll find Vivian and swap you out before then. One million five hundred thousand dollars a year, paid upfront." He slid a check across the table.

"Another one and a half million when the job's done, as compensation and hush money. I'll handle all the risks. If anything blows up, you just take the money and walk away. No loose ends," he said.

So, the total would be three million dollars. I had never seen that much money in my life. And all I had to do was play someone else's wife for a year.

Still, I kept a straight face and asked, "What's Charles like?"

"He is quiet, reserved, and particular about rules. But he's got good manners, and he's not mean." Richard paused, then added, "And he's insanely handsome."

At his words, the deal just kept getting sweeter. For three million, I could put up with just about anything.

I cleared my throat. "So, what do I need to do to get ready?"

Richard's eyes lit up.

*****

The crash course lasted two weeks.

I memorized all of Vivian's preferences. She loved champagne gold, couldn't stand organ meats, had hung out in Paris' art scene, and always chewed on her straw when she was thinking.

Designer dresses and sky-high heels kept arriving at my door. The price tags alone made my hands shake.

Under layers of makeup and careful styling, the girl in the mirror looked so polished and refined that I barely recognized myself.

Our first date was at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.

I showed up in a strapless gown and heels that felt more like medieval torture devices, clicking across the marble floor.

When Charles walked in, the room went quiet for a split second.

He was tall and sharp in a tailored suit, with gold-rimmed glasses resting on a face so handsome it felt almost unfair. He pulled out my chair and said, "Ms. Stone." His voice was cool and smooth.

"Thank you, Mr. Grant," I said, flashing the smile I'd practiced a hundred times.

Over dinner, he asked me about Paris, painting, and what kind of music I liked.

I did my best to answer with all the stuff I'd crammed, and when I had no clue, I improvised. If he gave me a skeptical look, I lifted my chin and shot back, "Did I say something wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

A spoiled heiress wasn't supposed to be easygoing anyway.

Honestly, I was born for this role. The rich-girl energy came to me like second nature.

By the end of the night, he walked me to the car. "There's an art exhibition next week. Would you do me the honor of joining me, Ms. Stone?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied.

The first date was flawless. I almost wanted to applaud myself.