~ LENA ~

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. No matter how many times I closed my eyes, my mind wouldn’t turn off.

Each time I began to drift off, Sofia’s face flashed before me like a guilty conscience, jolting me awake again.

Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours before my sister could lose her life.

Actually, it wasn’t up to that anymore. Julian was right. Time was running out. I had to make a decision quickly.

I lay on my back, staring at the wall clock in my room, counting the seconds as they ticked by, counting all the reasons I should walk away from Julian’s offer.

Every logical part of me screamed that it was insane—stepping into another woman’s life, marrying a man I didn’t know, lying on a scale so massive it could destroy me.

Besides being insane, it was dangerous. Illegal.

Prison.

The word made my stomach knot. If this went wrong, I would lose everything—my freedom, my future.

But then I remembered Sofie, her pale face against the white pillow, the beeping machines, the tubes connected to her body as her chest rose and fell weakly. The life was slowly draining out of her.

I remembered her words to me earlier.

“Lena… You’ll…take care of Mamá, right?”

She knew she was running out of time.

“Sofie, don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine.”

She hadn’t smiled. She’d only squeezed my fingers weakly, insisting, “Promise me.”

To put her mind at ease, I had.

That promise echoed in my head now as I lay awake in the dark, thinking.

I thought of my mother. Isabella Martinez had looked like a ghost in the hospital. A woman worn down by worry and fear. A woman watching her child slip away while having nothing—absolutely nothing—to stop it.

I could still see her trembling hands as she clutched her rosary, still hear the silent sobs she thought no one noticed. Sobs of a mother drowning.

I sat up abruptly.

If Sofia died because I was too afraid to do something, I would never forgive myself.

By morning, the fear had burned itself into hard resolve. I picked up Julian’s card, which he’d given me the previous day, and called.

The phone rang only once before he picked.

“I accept,” I said before he could speak. “I’ll do it. Please, I’ll do anything.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. Then, “Meet me in an hour. Same café.”

He was already there when I arrived. A folder sat neatly on the table between us.

“This is a non-disclosure agreement,” he said, sliding it toward me. “In the course of this, you’ll be exposed to private matters involving my family,” Julian said quietly. “You cannot, under any circumstances, reveal anything about our arrangement or the Blackwood family to anyone. Anything you see or hear stays private. Is that understood?”

Swallowing hard, I nodded. Fear had begun clawing its way back to my heart. As I skimmed the pages of the agreement, it only got worse. The penalties were severe. Threats of swift legal action that Julian restated in words. After which he went ahead to explain everything the contract entailed in precise, clinical detail.

Six months. That was how long I was to be married to his cousin for. Six months of being legally bound to Nathan Blackwood. Six months of living as Kimberly Hayes—taking over her name, her identity, her life.

I was to become Nathan Blackwood’s wife in every sense of the world, publicly and privately. I would have to quit my job, move to New York, live under the same roof with him while meeting all social expectations and emotional obligations associated with the role of his wife.

My hands shook as the implications of everything he was saying sank in.

“I’m supposed to be his wife…for real?” I asked quietly, the question sounding ridiculous even to me.

Julian met my flushed gaze without blinking. “In every way that matters.”

My pulse pounded in my ears. “And if he wants…intimacy?”

“Then you handle it as Kimberly would.”

The thought of that was enough to unnerve me. I didn’t let myself think, because if I did, I would flee.

“Pen,” I asked Julian, releasing a huge fortifying breath as he handed one over to me from his coat pocket.

With trembling fingers, I signed the document.

Julian nodded with a satisfied look after he inspected it. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

Julian kept his word. The money hit my account that same morning. One million dollars. My mouth dropped wide open. My legs turned weak. I had to grab a seat.

I couldn’t believe it. But there was no time to waste. I had to pay for the surgery.

The surgery was arranged immediately. The best doctors. The best care. There were no delays.

My mother was both confused and overwhelmed by joy. She insisted on knowing where the money had come from.

I lied to her, told her my boss had offered me a loan from the company, which she believed. I was relieved because there was no other lie that I could think of that would have made sense.

The surgery commenced and lasted for several hours. Mother sat silently beside me, her fingers locked around her rosary so tightly, her lips moving nonstop in whispered prayers.

The hours passed slowly, like punishment. When the doctor finally stepped out and said, “The surgery was successful,” something inside both of us broke loose. We turned to each other, hugging and sobbing in relief.

Sofia was going to live.

Nothing else mattered. Not my life, which I had just signed away for the next six months.

Whatever the deal demanded of me, whatever it would cost, Sofia’s life was worth it.

“She’s okay,” I told Julian later in the hospital corridor. “The surgery went well.”

He looked pleased. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “None of this would have been possible without you.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded, as if that part was settled business.

“Now that Sofia’s safe, are you ready to fulfill your end of the deal?”

My heart sank. My excitement turned to apprehension.

“Are you ready,” he continued, his voice low and firm, “to become Mrs. Blackwood?”

* * *

The drive to New York didn’t feel real.

Everything happened so fast. One moment, I was Lena Martinez, sister of a recovering patient in New Jersey.

The next, I was in the back seat of a sleek black Range Rover, heading towards Manhattan like property being delivered.

Julian sat beside me in the chauffeur-driven car, calm and composed as usual.

“Lena, you have nothing to worry about.” He’d noticed how tense I was. Anyone could see it just by looking at my face.

I almost laughed.

Nothing to worry about. As if I hadn’t just signed away my freedom. As if he hadn’t reminded me softly that my mother’s undocumented status could easily become a problem if I stepped out of line.

“Your mother seems like a good woman. She’s worked very hard to build a quiet life for herself here. It would be a shame if anything disrupted that.”

His words had been delivered softly, but they paralyzed me with fear.

Of course, he knew. A man who could wire a million dollars without blinking was a man who knew everything about me, including the right buttons to push.

For the next six months, my life belonged to them. I belonged to Nathan Blackwood.

Before leaving, I had resigned from my job. I told my mother my boss had sent me on an important assignment to New York. That I’d be gone for some months. She believed me.

I felt bad lying to her, but I couldn’t imagine the horror on her face if she knew what I’d just signed up for.

At least she wouldn’t be alone. Her younger sister, Aunt Celeste, would stay with her through Sofia’s recovery. That was the only thought that put my mind at ease.

The rest of the journey passed in a blur. Soon, we were in Manhattan, pulling up in front of a cozy, private little townhouse on the Upper East Side. Julian led me inside.

“Where is this?” I asked him, eyes sweeping over the tastefully furnished living room.

Julian closed the door behind us. “This is Kim’s house.”

The words landed heavily. At the same time, I noticed the different framed pictures of Kimberly on the walls and shelves. Kim alone. Kim smiling and striking a seductive pose for the camera. Kim standing in front of Nathan Blackwood, his arm around her waist from behind, smiling like a man deeply in love.

“You’ll be staying here till the wedding,” Julian announced. “You need to familiarize yourself with this space and everything about Kim. To make it easy for you, Dahlia will be assisting.”

Before I could ask who Dahlia was, a woman stepped out of the kitchen as if on cue. He introduced her as Dahlia, his trusted Personal Assistant.

“Dahlia is going to assist you with everything you need. She’s going to make this whole process easy for you. Listen to her and do everything she tells you.”

With that, he left us alone.

Dahlia didn’t waste any time after Julian left.

“Come along, Miss Martinez,” she said, her voice calm and professional. “We have work to do.”

She was all poise and sophistication. Perfectly styled blonde hair, polished nails, and a subtle, expensive perfume trailing after her.

I swallowed hard, trying to calm the storm of nerves twisting in my stomach as I followed her outside to where her sleek car was waiting.

Dahlia drove us straight to a high-end boutique, which, upon entering, I realized had been reserved exclusively for us. Aside from the staff, we were the only two there.

“To become Kim,” Dahlia pointed out, “you have to match everything about her, starting with your wardrobe. Kimberly has a very specific style—sleek…elegant…effortlessly glamorous.”

I nodded, though inside I was panicking. Sleek and effortlessly glamorous wasn’t me.

At Dahlia’s request, attendants moved quickly, selecting outfits, lingerie, shoes, handbags, jewelry, everything. Everything was carefully chosen to match Kimberly’s signature style. I tried on dress after dress, modeling them before Dahlia for her approval. Every curve-hugging outfit felt alien to my body. Yet, the more I tried them on, the more familiar they began to feel.

Next stop was the beauty salon.

My thick waves were silk-pressed into sleek perfection, a few inches of it trimmed to match Kimberly’s exact mid-back length.

My nails were flawlessly done. Makeup sculpted carefully with subtle contour, smoky eyes, and glossy nude lips completing the look.

When I finally looked in the mirror, the face staring back wasn’t Lena Martinez. It was Kimberly. My lips parted in shock. The resemblance was frightening.

The only thing that told us apart now was the way I carried myself and Kim’s little mannerisms which I had to learn to mimic. Dahlia reminded me that those were just as important as matching her looks.

“Rest,” Dahlia said once we got back to the house. It was already getting late. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

Thankful, I slipped out of the car, grabbing the shopping bags from the back seat. I was exhausted, and all I wanted was to go to bed.

* * *

The next morning, the knock on the door came just as I finished fastening the zipper of my dress and putting finishing touches to my makeup—Kim’s style.

I opened the door to Julian, immediately feeling his gaze sweep over me, slow and assessing, from head to toe.

I was wearing one of the dresses Dahlia had chosen the day before. A casual, dusty rose bandage dress that hugged my body like it was made for me. Being Latina had blessed me with the natural hourglass figure that most women go under the knife to achieve. And it was a shocking coincidence that Kim and I had the same kind of body.

Julian’s mouth curved slightly. “Impressive,” he said. Then, to Dahlia standing beside him, “You outdid yourself, Dahlia. I can’t tell the difference.”

I already knew why they were here. And once we settled into the living room, the schooling began.

Dahlia took the lead. She drilled me relentlessly, teaching me how to stand, walk, talk and act in the same graceful, poised manner as Kimberly. Our voices already matched, but every other thing had to be the same to make the transformation believable.

She played short videos of her, showing me who the real Kimberly was and how to impersonate her perfectly. Every little detail, from the tilt of her chin to the way she smiled.

Julian filled in the rest, explaining everything I needed to know.

Kimberly was an influencer. He showed me her social media pages. Her last post had been about two weeks ago, before she left. He told me how Nathan had met her, everything about their relationship.

“Nathan is a man who loves with all his heart,” Julian explained. “And when he hates, it’s the same.”

My breath hitched at that statement. Why did that sound like a warning?

He told me everything about his cousin, all the important things about his life. I soaked up the information like a sponge.

“We’re expecting him back in two days. That gives you time.”

After they left, the apartment settled into silence once more. I wandered through it slowly, touching furniture, looking at photos. I picked up a framed picture of Nathan, studying his incredibly handsome face with a frown.

How on earth could any woman walk away from a man like this?

While I was still wondering, a sudden knock echoed through the apartment.

Could it be Julian? Had he forgotten something?

I opened the door, and my heart just stopped.

It wasn’t Julian. It was Nathan Blackwood.

I didn’t get a chance to speak. He pulled me into his arms, crushing me against him as his mouth came down hard on mine with a hunger and urgency that knocked the breath out of me.

~ LENA ~

I had to be dreaming. Could it really be-?

Nathan's lips didn't allow the thought form fully in my head. They didn't give me the room to think. His mouth devoured mine like a man who'd been starving. Like the past days he'd been away had been torture, and this-me-was his only relief.

His hands slowly guided me backwards as the door closed behind us with a soft click, while his mouth continued to ravage my senses.

Naturally, I should have panicked. Instead, my body betrayed me, shamelessly melting against him.

I had been kissed before-by my ex and a few other men whom I thought knew exactly what they were doing. But none of it had prepared me for this. None of it came close to the way Nathan Blackwood unraveled me with just one kiss.

As his hand slid into my hair, deepening the kiss, the rest of the world faded away. For a moment, I forgot everything. The contract, the lies... The name I was bearing that wasn't mine...

My knees went weak. I clutched the lapels of his jacket for support, my fingers curling into the expensive fabric, breathing in his rich, masculine cologne that seemed to fill the entire living room space in just seconds of him stepping in.

Is this real?

The thought drifted through my mind as every inch of my body responded to him before fear could catch up.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn't abrupt. It was slow, reluctant, his forehead resting against mine as if he needed a second to remind himself how to breathe.

I stood there, frozen. My hands were still curled into his jacket. My heart was racing so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

Then I looked at him. Really looked at him.

Up close, Nathan Blackwood was devastatingly handsome. It was the kind of handsome that felt unreal. Almost like he was one of those screen crushes from the telenovelas I loved to watch, and he'd just stepped into my world.

He was taller than I imagined, his shoulders broader, his presence filling the room until everything else seemed to shrink.

His eyes were darker than they were in pictures. They were sharper, and disturbingly attentive. It felt like he could see straight through me.

This was real, I realized. And then it hit me.

He's not supposed to be here.

Reality crashed down on me so hard my heart jumped.

Julian had promised me two more days before Nathan was due to return. Two days to finish learning, finish memorizing, to visit and get to know Nathan's home where Kim was accustomed to. Two days to fully prepare myself mentally to step into this lie.

But Nathan Blackwood was standing right in front of me now. And I watched the warmth drain from his face, suddenly replaced by anger as he finally let me go.

"What the hell is going on, Kim?"

The sudden sharpness in his voice made me flinch.

"No calls, no messages? And then when I call you, it goes straight to voicemail. What exactly is going on?"

There it was, I thought, bracing myself. The explosion I hadn't prepared enough for.

"All of a sudden, you just decide you don't want to pick my calls." His dark eyes looked even darker with anger flaring in them. "I left you a thousand messages...messages you never replied. Did I miss something? Did I...did I do something wrong? Are you upset with me?"

"I..." I swallowed nervously, trying to remember what to say. "I...I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" He was furious. "Is that all you have to say? Do you have any idea what you put me through?"

I remembered Julian's instructions now. What to say to Nathan when he demanded an explanation since the real Kimberly had gone AWOL on him. The words rang in my head like a script I had to follow perfectly or risk everything unravelling.

"I'm sorry," I repeated clumsily. "I...I wasn't ignoring you because I wanted to. I...I fell sick."

"Sick?" He frowned, like it was the last thing he expected to hear.

I nodded, swallowing nervously as I rushed on to explain. "It was serious. After you travelled, I collapsed. I had to be rushed to the hospital. I was admitted for a while."

"What?"

From his frown, I didn't know if I'd just made things better or worse. He gripped my shoulders, looking both angry and disappointed at me. "And you're just telling me this now?"

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't tell you because you were busy and...and I didn't want you to worry."

"So, you decided to keep it to yourself?" A muscle flexed in his jaw. "You told no one-not even Julian."

"I knew he was going to tell you if I did."

"Oh, really?" He dropped his hands, took a step back, shaking his head.

"I couldn't call you or pick your calls because I knew you'd hear how sick I was from my voice and start to worry."

"And what do you think I've been doing all the while?" he cut in harshly. "You totally ghosted me! You didn't think I would worry?"

"I'm sorry." I murmured, not knowing what else to say to calm his anger down. "I really am."

"You could have said something, Kim. I hate being put in the dark and you know it."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I promise."

He studied my face for a long moment, then finally exhaled-a long, heavy breath that seemed to drain all the anger from him at once.

"Are you okay now?" he asked quietly, stepping closer again. His hands came up to my face, gently caressing my cheeks. "Are you really okay?"

The worry in his eye was endearing. At the same time, it broke my heart because I was lying to him. He thought I was his fiancée. It was obvious he was so in love with her. But he didn't know Kimberly had already walked away.

"Yes. I'm fine now," I whispered, dropping my gaze for fear that he would see the truth in my eyes-that I wasn't her.

"Thank God." He let out another long breath, resting his forehead against mine again. "You got me so scared. I couldn't think, I couldn't function properly. I thought maybe...maybe you didn't want to go through with the wedding anymore."

"What?" Panic rose in my chest at how closely the lie had just been brushed by the truth. I pulled back slightly to look at his face, shaking my head in instant denial. "No. No. Why would you think that?"

He shrugged faintly, a faint smile curving his lips. "I don't know. You disappearing like that-it scared me."

As Kim, I had to convince him everything was fine. I laced my fingers behind his neck and rose on my tiptoes, pressing a brief, reassuring kiss to his mouth.

As I meant to pull away, he stopped me, sliding an arm around my waist and holding me there as he kissed me again. Slower this time, deeper, until the air between us grew thin and we were both breathless once more.

"Kim, you have to slow down," he said in a soft tone, stroking my cheek with his finger. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, stressing over the planning of this wedding. I get that you want everything to be perfect. But look what it did to you."

"I'm fine." I shifted uneasily under the weight of his concerned eyes. The more he looked at me with those worried eyes, the more guilty I felt. "Can we please stop talking about it?"

"Only if you promise me that you'll take things easy as from now on. No more stress, okay?"

I nodded. "Okay. I promise."

A satisfied smile touched his lips. "Good. I doubt you have anything to stress about anymore though. The wedding is just a week away."

A week. The thought made my stomach twist.

"I can't wait to make you mine forever."

He was beaming at me like a happy man in love, totally oblivious to the sudden, sharp panic that had gripped me.

It was making me sick. I needed to change the subject-now.

"How was your trip?" I asked quickly, helping him get out of his jacket. "You must be exhausted."

"Yes," he admitted. "But being with you makes me feel better. I've missed you terribly, my love."

He looked like he was going to kiss me again. Quickly, I tried to change the topic once more, afraid what another one of those his kisses would do to me.

"You must be hungry. I'll make you something to eat."

It was the safest option. I knew he was going to be with me for a while, and being in the kitchen meant some distance, a chance to keep my hands busy and gather myself together.

But it was a wrong move.

I saw it instantly-the change in his expression. His smile faded, as if it had never been there at all. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by something unreadable. Serious. Almost wary.

"What?" My heart stuttered.

Had I said something wrong? Did I sound...off? Was that not something the real Kimberly would say?

He didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on my face, searching, assessing, as if he was seeing me for the first time. His brows drew together in a firm line.

Oh my God.

I knew what was going on behind those dark eyes without being told.

Heart pounding in my ears, I braced myself for what was coming as he spoke in a low, quiet voice devoid of any warmth. Nothing like the man who had kissed me just moments ago.

"Who are you?"

~ LENA ~

The world came to a standstill.

For a second, I was no longer Kimberly Hayes. No longer wrapped in silk and lies. I was just Lena Martinez again-stripped bare by those eyes, exposed, and confronted by danger.

"What?" I whispered, barely hearing the sound of my own voice.

Nathan didn't respond. He didn't move. He just stood in front of me, towering above me like a man carved from stone. His eyes had an intensity in them that made my skin pickle.

It wasn't anger on his face, I realized. It was scrutiny. He looked like a man re-examining something he thought he knew by heart but suddenly didn't.

"Who are you?" he asked again, tilting his head slightly. His gaze didn't leave my face.

"I-" My throat grew tight. I forced myself to swallow, to remain calm. "W-what do you mean, Nate?"

Suddenly, and to my surprise, the tension eased. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his shoulders relaxed. That seriousness fading away from his eyes, replaced by something lighter. Amusement.

"The Kim I know hates cooking. You'd rather go hungry than step your foot into the kitchen. We both know that."

I laughed, a small shaky sound, while my mind searched for a lie to melt away his suspicion.

Kimberly hated cooking. On the contrary, I loved it. Physically we were identical, but beyond that there was very little we had in common.

"Well...people changed," I said quietly.

"Really?" He didn't look convinced. As though he didn't believe a woman like Kimberly could ever change.

"Yes. I..." I was shocked at how easily the lie came to me. "I've been doing something lowkey for a while now. It's...kind of a secret."

That immediately got his interest.

"I've been taking cooking classes," I continued, watching his surprised face. "With the wedding coming up... I just thought..." I shrugged lightly. "I want to be the perfect wife for you."

Silence followed.

Nathan stared at me. A glint of something I couldn't read crossed his face. His expression softened completely. Before I could say anything else, he pulled me into his arms.

The kiss was different this time. It was slow and full of something frighteningly sincere.

"I love you," he whispered.

I paused, speechless. I knew I was supposed to say the words back. Kimberly would have said them back without hesitation. But guilt and fear wrapped around my throat, making it hard to breathe.

"I love you too."

I managed to say the words, and he smiled at me, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"Come," I said quickly, pulling him towards the couch where I'd dropped his jacket. I needed to put some distance between us before my composure cracked. "Sit down. Rest while I quickly put something together."

He didn't argue. He looked tired as he slumped into the chair, stretching his long legs out.

Leaning back, he watched me hurry towards the kitchen with that same puzzled and amused look on his face.

The kitchen had always been my refuge, my safe space. And right now it was the only part of the house I could conveniently hide away from Nathan without raising any more suspicions in his mind.

How was I going to do it? I wondered, sagging against the counter the minute I was alone. How was I going to survive six months of this? Six months of being close to Nathan all the time. Having his arms around my body, his lips on mine, his touch...

After the wedding, there would be no more hiding. No more distance to retreat into when things felt too real.

The kiss replayed in my mind without permission. I remembered the passion, the urgency. The way my body had responded, melting into him. I had forgotten everything in that moment, including who I really was. That terrified me.

How was I supposed to remain sane?

I pressed my palms into the cool marble of the counter, closing my eyes briefly as I fought the panic rising inside me.

Then Sofia's face came to me.

Earlier on, I'd spoken to my mother. She'd happily told me of how Sofia was getting better day by day. The doctors were pleased at her rate of recovery.

Sofia had sounded much better on the phone. Her voice was stronger than it had been in weeks. My little sister was finally going to be okay.

The thought brought tears to my eyes, and gratitude. It eased the panic a bit. While this wasn't going to be easy, it was definitely worth the sacrifice.

Six months wasn't a lifetime. I consoled myself with that thought. Six months could pass like six days if I focused, if I held on tightly to the reason why I was here.

You can do this, Lena.

I drew in a deep breath, reached for the apron hanging on a hook and tied it around my waist. Then I crossed to the refrigerator and opened it.

Julian's voice echoed in my head, listing facts the way he'd done earlier. Nathan's likes, his favorite meals...

Steak.

The refrigerator was fully stocked. I brought out a cut of ribeye, fresh herbs, butter, garlic... Carefully, I washed, chopped and seasoned. I enjoyed cooking. I always had. It came as naturally to me as breathing.

The rhythmic sound of the knife against the chopping board calmed me. For a while, everything was normal and peaceful until I felt that unmistakable prickle at the back of my neck. You know that feeling that made you aware you were being watched?

I froze, then whipped around.

Nathan was standing by the doorway, staring at me.