Chapter 3

• The ceremony ended in a blur.
• I didn’t remember most of it.
• The vows, the applause, the forced smiles from strangers I didn’t recognize… it all felt distant. Like I’d been watching it through fogged glass.
• Now, I was here. Sitting in the back seat of a car so sleek and silent, it might as well have floated.
• Leather seats. Dark wood finish. The scent of something expensive I couldn't name.
• It was the kind of car I’d only ever seen in magazines or gliding past in traffic. Not the kind of car someone like me belonged in.
• My “husband” sat beside me.
• He hadn’t said a word since the wedding. Not one. Just nodded at a few guests, shook one or two hands, then rolled himself into the car like he couldn’t wait to leave.
• Now he sat there... expression unreadable, eyes staring out the window.
• The silence pressed down on me. I couldn’t even hear the engine. Only the occasional turn signal and the soft hum of tires on asphalt.
• The driver, an older man in uniform, didn’t look back. His eyes stayed fixed on the road.
• I shifted in my seat, tugged at the edge of my dress, then looked out my own window. The city blurred past in patches of light and glass.
• Until finally, the traffic slowed, and the car turned into a quieter street lined with tall hedges and heavy gates.
• We pulled up to a mansion.
• That word didn’t even seem enough.
• It was massive… stone, glass, iron gates, manicured lawns.
• The kind of place you see in movies, the kind that belongs to people who never worry about bills or bad news.
• This… was home?
• The driver stepped out, opened Ryan’s door first. A man in uniform came forward immediately, bowing slightly.
• “Welcome back, Mr. Graham,” he said. Then his eyes flicked to me, polite but unsure. “Ma’am.”
• Another servant appeared, pushing the wheelchair. Ryan moved into it smoothly, ignoring my glance.
• Then he turned slightly toward the staff.
• “Take us to the room prepared for my wife.”
• My wife.
• The way he said it… flat, emotionless… made the word feel like something scraped off a shoe.
• “Yes, sir,” the servant said.
• We moved inside. The air was colder here, and I don’t mean the temperature.
• It was quiet.
• Controlled.
• Decorated in ways that screamed wealth... marble floors, chandeliers, oil paintings that probably cost more than my father’s apartment.
• I struggled to keep my mouth from falling open.
• This wasn’t just money. It was power. History. Old money.
• I followed silently, heels clicking against polished floors, until we reached a double door on the second floor. The servant opened it and stepped aside.
• The room inside was… beautiful.
• Soft pink walls. Gold accents. A canopy bed. A closet already stocked. A vase of white peonies on the dresser. Even the scent... warm vanilla... felt like it had been chosen on purpose.
• As if they knew.
• As if they knew my favorite color. My favorite flower.
• For a second, I didn’t feel trapped. Just overwhelmed.
• Ryan dismissed the staff with a nod. They left without a word.
• Then it was just us.
• “This is yours,” he said, voice sharp.
• I turned slowly to face him. “Mine?”
• He didn’t blink. “We’re obviously not about to start sharing a room, right?”
• The words hit me in the chest.
• Right. Of course. I was just the girl dragged in at the last second. The replacement.
• He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he placed one hand on the armrest… and stood.
• I froze.
• He stood. No struggle. No limp. Straight and tall.
• My mouth fell open.
• “ What… ” I whispered. “You can walk????”
• Ryan didn’t bother hiding the smirk that tugged at his lips.
• He looked… different standing. More imposing. Taller. Broader. And suddenly, all I could see was how well the suit fit. How sharp his jawline was. How effortless the strength in his body looked.
• “Yes,” he said simply. “I can walk.”
• I took a step back, still stunned, and opened my mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come out. I tried again...
• “Then why... ”
• “The chair’s for them,” he said, voice cool. “It keeps people out of my business. I don’t need Evelyn Bennett sniffing around. And I had no intention of marrying your sister. No healthy man would.”
• I couldn’t respond. I was still trying to process it. He knows I am a substitute?
• He turned toward the door and called out, “Isla.”
• The servant from earlier stepped in like she’d been waiting.
• “Yes, sir.”
• He didn’t even look at her. “Bring the file.”
• She nodded and left. Returned within seconds.
• Ryan took the file and held it out. I didn’t move.
• “Take it,” he said.
• I swallowed, stepped forward, and grabbed it from his hand. It felt heavy.
• He turned and walked to the windows, back to me.
• I opened the folder. A contract.
• Clear. Detailed. Business-like.
• “To me, this isn’t a real marriage,” Ryan said flatly. “We keep up appearances. Public events, family dinners, whatever. You’ll play the role. In two years, we dissolve it quietly. Clean exit. No mess.”
• His tone didn’t change. Not once.
• “And if I don’t sign it?” I asked quietly.
• He turned, his face stone. “Then you can go back to wherever you came from. But I assume you like this room more than a cell.”
• That one cut deeper than I expected. How’d he know all that?
• I looked back down at the contract. There was a blank line at the bottom… waiting for my name. I picked up the pen clipped to the folder.
• He didn’t look at me as I signed.
• The silence stretched.
• I stared at the paper for a second longer. My name, written neatly in ink, felt final. Like I'd sealed my own fate.
• Ryan’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, checked the screen.
• “Carl,” he muttered. Then answered. “ Yeah?”
• A pause. Then: “I'll be right there.”
• Another pause.
• “No. I’ll handle it.”
• He ended the call and looked at me. “There’s a gala in two days. Your first public appearance as Mrs Graham. Prepare well.”
• And with that, he turned and walked out.
• The door clicked shut behind him.
• I stood there alone in my wedding gown. My chest felt tight. My throat dry.
• This was it.
• This was my life now.
• I turned to the bed. Sat down. Then slowly, I let myself fall back against the soft sheets.
• I stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open.
• What the hell did I just walk into?