Chapter 1

At the wedding, I, Claire Goodwin, could tell right away that the guy in the tuxedo wasn't Samuel Grant.

But I still stood by his side as if nothing was wrong.

Because in my previous life, I exposed the fake groom in front of everyone, and Samuel ended up dragging himself back to finish the wedding with me.

But on our wedding night, his childhood sweetheart, Charlotte Quinn, got into a car accident and was rushed to the ER.

When Samuel heard the news, he didn't even blink. Right in front of me, he said, "She had it coming."

After the wedding, Samuel and I acted like the perfect couple, while I kept bailing out his failing family business with money from the Goodwin family.

On our third anniversary, Samuel locked me in a mountaintop freezer room with his own hands.

There was nothing but coldness in Samuel's eyes. "If you hadn't forced me to come back and marry you that day, Charlotte wouldn't have been left with a crippled leg.

"What makes you think you deserve to be my wife? I'm going to make you suffer as she did, trapped in that car, waiting for death."

I was frozen all night, and when I came to, I found myself lying in the morgue.

This time, I played dumb and went through with the wedding, pretending I didn't know the groom was a fake.

I wanted to see how long the Grant family's crumbling empire could last without the Goodwin family's money.

*****

"Samuel Grant, do you take Claire Goodwin to be your wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer?" the officiant asked.

"I do," the man replied, his voice coming through the microphone, deliberately low and hoarse.

The guests were all praising Samuel, saying how devoted he was to me. Even though his voice was hoarse from illness, he insisted on finishing the wedding, afraid I'd feel disappointed.

"Wait a second," I said.

The man in front of me had his shoulders stiff as a board, and an ill-fitting watch strap was sticking out awkwardly from under his sleeve.

I smiled and asked, "Samuel, you don't look so good. Are you feeling tired?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm not feeling too well."

I signaled the officiant to pause and pulled him into the lounge.

Right then, my phone on the table buzzed with a bunch of messages, all from Charlotte.

[So, you figured out the groom's a fake, huh? Bet you're shocked, right? Samuel and I are watching your big day live.]

She sent a photo showing Samuel draping his coat over Charlotte's shoulders, his fingers tucking her hair behind her ear.

[Oh, and so you know, this was all my idea. This whole wedding is Samuel's way of keeping me entertained.]

I quickly typed out a reply and sent it. [Oh, really? Wanna bet? If I make one call, he'll ditch you and come crawling back to beg me.]

There was a long silence on the other end.

Perfect, she took the bait.

I put my phone away and turned to the silent groom beside me.

He fidgeted with his bow tie, looking uneasy. "I-I'm not him."

I patted his arm. "Julian, you can stop pretending now."

The man, Julian West, let out a long breath. "So you already knew."

After a moment of silence, he seemed to throw caution to the wind and lowered his voice. "Claire, Samuel isn't worth marrying. He's deliberately humiliating you today."

I looked at my own pale face in the mirror, dressed as a bride, my voice steady. "I didn't stop the wedding to call you out. I need you to help me put on a show."

It wasn't until after I died in my previous life that I realized Julian was the only one who ever defended me in front of Samuel.

After he found the records from the freezer room, he went to confront Samuel, but ended up being shoved down the stairs. His leg was ruined, and he could barely walk after that.

He wasn't my lover, but he was more human than my own husband ever was.

Julian looked at me, his fingers fidgeting with his cufflinks before letting go. "What do you want me to do?"

I met his gaze, steady and calm. "Help me finish this wedding. Play your part till the end."

He stared at me, stunned. "Are you crazy? Marrying a fake groom? Tomorrow, you'll be the laughingstock of the whole city."

"Who's laughing now?" I said, fixing his crooked boutonniere. "After today, they'll be begging me to say this wedding was legit."

When we got back to the altar, the officiant forced a smile and announced, "Now, please exchange rings."

I picked up the ring and slipped it onto his finger, but it jammed right at his knuckle and wouldn't go any further.

Julian's fingers were thicker than Samuel's. The ring didn't fit him at all.

The guests started whispering among themselves.

"Did they mess up the ring size or something?"

"With all the money the Grants and Goodwins spent, they still screwed up the rings?"

"The groom's hand doesn't look like Samuel's at all."

Helen's face turned sour, and Howard, sitting next to her, slammed his glass down on the table.

They exchanged a glance, panic flickering in their eyes for a split second.

It seemed they had known all along about Samuel's little stunt, but they hadn't planned to stop it.

My mom was sitting in the front row, her hand gripping the armrest of her wheelchair, worry written all over her face as she watched me.

I gave her a reassuring nod.

Then, with everyone staring in shock and confusion, I reached out and took the boutonniere off Julian's chest. "Alright, let's stop guessing."

I gripped the microphone and looked toward the Grant family in the audience. "The man standing next to me today isn't Samuel Grant."

After a brief silence, Helen was the first to spring up from her seat. "Claire, what are you babbling about? Are you trying to embarrass us in front of everyone at your own wedding?"

Howard shot to his feet, barking at the guests and camera crew, "Put those cameras down! It's a little marital spat. We'll sort this out immediately."