Austin's hand shot up, wrapping around her wrist before she could pull away.

His skin was cool, but his grip burned.

"Do not mistake my tolerance for permission," he said, his voice lethal. "Do not touch me."

Janey didn't flinch. She didn't try to yank her hand back. Instead, she let her fingers relax in his crushing hold. She focused on the pulse point on the inside of his wrist. It was steady, strong.

He was alive.

"Understood," she said softly.

The car came to a smooth halt.

Before Austin could reply, the door was wrenched open from the outside.

The world exploded in white light.

Flashes from a hundred cameras assaulted the dark interior of the limousine. The roar of the rain was drowned out by the shouting of reporters.

"Mr. Walton!"

"Over here, Austin!"

"Is the merger finalized?"

Austin's face transformed instantly. The sneer vanished. The contempt evaporated. In its place was a mask of cool, detached power. A billionaire's smile.

He didn't let go of her. He pulled her toward the door, his hand sliding from her wrist to the small of her back. His fingers dug into her waist, propelling her forward. To the cameras, it looked possessive. To Janey, it felt like a threat.

She stepped out onto the red carpet. The humidity hit her instantly.

Her heel caught on the edge of the plush carpet. In her past life, she had stumbled here. She had fallen to her knees, and the headlines the next day had screamed The Reluctant Bride.

Austin's grip tightened, ready to hold her up or drag her, he didn't care which.

Janey engaged her core. She shifted her weight, turning the stumble into a graceful lean against his side. She looked up at him, beaming a smile of pure adoration that didn't reach her eyes. Her lips remained sealed, a perfect, doll-like curve. The contract was clear. She was an image, not a voice.

Austin stiffened against her.

"Smile," he hissed through his teeth, his lips barely moving. "Don't speak. You are an asset, not an announcer."

They moved down the carpet, a wall of noise on either side. Janey waved, her movements fluid, mechanical.

Once they cleared the press line and entered the grand foyer of the estate, Austin released her immediately. He stepped away as if she were contagious.

He turned to a man waiting by the entrance. Gavin, his Chief of Staff.

"Watch her," Austin ordered, not looking at Janey. "She speaks to no one. Especially not her father."

Janey felt a surge of bile at the mention of Marcus Roy.

"Austin," she said.

He stopped. His shoulders tensed. He turned slowly, incredulous that she had used his first name.

"What?"

Janey took a step closer. She lowered her voice, pitching it so only he could hear.

"The forecast calls for more rain. You should be careful with the cobblestones, Mr. Walton. They get slick."

Austin's pupils contracted. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees. His gaze sharpened, boring into her. The comment was innocuous, a pleasantry, but the timing-just after he'd put weight on his right leg-and the flat, knowing look in her eyes turned it into a threat. A whisper of a secret he thought was buried in concrete.

He stepped into her personal space, looming over her. "Who talked? Are you spying on me?"

"I know more than you think," Janey said, holding her ground. She tilted her head, exposing her neck in a submissive gesture that contradicted the steel in her voice. "For instance, I know there is a leak in this wedding."

"Are you referring to yourself?"

"I'm your partner," Janey said. "At least until midnight. Our interests are aligned."

She tapped her temple with one finger. "I'm not just a placeholder, Austin. I can do the math. I'll prove it."

Austin studied her face, searching for the lie. He saw only a calm, terrifying clarity.

Gavin cleared his throat. "Sir, the board is waiting."

Austin broke eye contact. He adjusted his cuffs.

"Don't disappoint me, Janey," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Or you will regret ever being born."

He turned and walked away, his limp barely perceptible, masked by sheer force of will.

Janey let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her back was damp with sweat.

She turned to the ornate mirror hanging in the hallway. Her reflection stared back-pale, wide-eyed, but alive.

"Okay, Doria," she whispered to the empty hall. "Your turn."

Janey stood at the entrance to the bridal suite. The Wedding Coordinator, a woman with a headset and a clipboard, was buzzing around her like an agitated fly.

"Five minutes to touch-ups, Miss Roy. Then the photos. Then the procession. Please, we are on a tight schedule."

From the end of the corridor, a man came running. He was red-faced, sweating profusely in a tuxedo that was straining at the buttons.

Marcus Roy. Her father.

He didn't look at her face. He didn't look at the dress. He grabbed her bare arm, his fingers wet and clammy.

"Where is he? Where is Austin? I need to see him!"

Janey looked at the hand on her arm. The man who had sold her to cover his gambling debts and failed investments.

"He's busy, Father," she said coolly.

"The stock is dropping!" Marcus hissed, spit flying from his lips. "The board is pressuring me. You have to get him to sign the addendum! The one about the Roy family trust!"

Janey pulled her arm away. "Compose yourself. There are cameras."

Marcus blinked, stunned by her tone. Before he could shout, the sound of heavy footsteps approached.

Austin was coming back down the hall, flanked by his CFO and two security guards. He looked furious.

Marcus's face transformed into a mask of pathetic desperation. He lunged forward.

"Austin! My boy! About the-"

A security guard stepped in front of Marcus, blocking him with a massive shoulder. Austin didn't even break stride. He looked straight ahead, ignoring his future father-in-law completely.

Janey saw the opportunity.

She pushed past the Coordinator. She ignored her father. She gathered her heavy skirt in one hand and walked directly into Austin's path.

The guards moved to intercept.

Austin held up a hand. They stopped.

He looked down at her. "Again?"

Janey stepped into the circle of his influence. She didn't whisper this time. She spoke with the precision of a ticker tape.

"Vanguard Tech is a shell company," she said.

Austin went still. "Excuse me?"

"The entity shorting the Roy Group stock right now. It's Vanguard Tech. If you trace their IP, it bounces, but the funding is coming from a trust in the Cayman Islands."

Austin's eyes narrowed to slits. "Go on."

"It's Carter Hayes," Janey said. The name tasted like ash in her mouth. "It's his personal slush fund. The short squeeze will peak in ten minutes, right before the ceremony begins."

Austin stared at her. Carter Hayes was their biggest rival. And, as far as Austin knew, Doria's heartbroken ex-boyfriend.

"Why tell me?" Austin asked, his voice low. "He's your... friend."

"He is a liability," Janey corrected. "If you buy the dip now, you'll own the majority share of his debt by the time we say 'I do'. You'll make back half the merger fee."

Austin looked at her for a long, silent moment. He was assessing her value. He was calculating the risk.

He turned to his CFO.

"Run it," he barked. "Check the Cayman connection. Trace Vanguard Tech. If she's right, buy everything. Crush the short."

The CFO nodded, eyeing Janey with a mixture of shock and respect, and hurried away tapping on his tablet.

Marcus, who had been watching from the sidelines with his mouth open, finally found his voice.

"Janey! What did you say to him?"

Austin turned to Marcus. His lip curled.

"You raised a dangerous daughter, Roy," Austin said. "Though I doubt you had anything to do with it."

He leaned in close to Janey, his breath stirring the loose strands of hair by her ear.

"If you're wrong," he whispered, "tonight is your funeral."

"Have the champagne ready, boss," Janey replied, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Austin pulled back. For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Not trust. But interest.

He walked away.

Janey turned back to the bridal suite. She didn't look at her father. She opened the door and stepped inside, shutting out the noise of the hallway.

The bridal suite was filled with white roses. The scent was cloying, almost suffocating.

Sitting on the velvet sofa, legs crossed, was Doria Roy.

She was wearing the maid-of-honor dress, a pale pink creation that clashed with her sharp features. When Janey entered, Doria jumped up, her face arranging itself into a bright, plastic smile.

"Janey! Oh my god, look at you. You look like an angel."

She rushed forward, enveloping Janey in a hug. Perfume-Chanel No. 5, too much of it-assaulted Janey's nose.

Janey stood rigid. In her last life, she had hugged back. She had cried on this shoulder.

"Hello, Doria," Janey said.

Doria pulled back, keeping her hands on Janey's shoulders. Her eyes were wide, feigning concern.

"I can't believe Daddy is making you do this. Marrying that... monster. You must be terrified."

"It's for the family," Janey said, reciting the line she was expected to say. "I don't have a choice."

Doria's eyes gleamed. She guided Janey to the sofa.

"Listen to me," Doria whispered, conspiring. "I have a way out for you."

She reached into her clutch and pulled out a small, clear vial of liquid.

"This is a sedative," Doria said. "It's mild. Just enough to make him groggy. Carter set it up."

Janey looked at the vial.

"Carter?" she asked, injecting a tremor into her voice.

"Yes," Doria nodded eagerly. "If Austin passes out or gets sick right after the wedding, the stock will tank. The board will intervene. The prenup will be voided. You can leave, Janey. With the money."

It wasn't a sedative. It was a potent hallucinogen mixed with a muscle relaxant. In her past life, Doria had spiked Janey's drink with it, then claimed Janey was a drug addict unfit to be a Walton wife.

"But..." Janey bit her lip. "What about the cameras?"

"The VIP Suite has no cameras," Doria lied smoothly. "Carter will meet you there. He's going to take you away. He loves you, Janey."

Janey took the vial. Her fingers brushed Doria's.

"Okay," Janey whispered. "I'll do it."

Doria let out a breath, her triumph almost visible. She turned to the table where a bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket.

"To freedom," Doria said, popping the cork.

Janey watched her pour two glasses. She knew Doria had already prepped the bottle.

As Doria turned around with the glasses, Janey stood up abruptly. Her elbow knocked into the open bottle on the table.

Ideally, it would have tipped. Instead, Janey grabbed it, feigning a fumble, and splashed a generous amount of the foaming liquid all over the front of Doria's dress.

"Oh my god!" Janey gasped. "I'm so sorry! My hands are shaking!"

Doria shrieked, jumping back. "You idiot! This is silk!"

"I'll get club soda!" Janey cried.

"No, just... stay there!" Doria snarled, her mask slipping. "I have to go to the bathroom. Don't touch anything!"

Doria grabbed her clutch and ran into the ensuite bathroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, Janey's face went blank.

She moved with terrifying speed.

She didn't have a phone; Austin had taken it. But she had memory. She uncorked the vial Doria had given her. She poured the entire contents into the glass of champagne Doria had poured for herself. She swirled it gently.

The toilet flushed.

Janey picked up the two glasses.

Doria emerged, dabbing at her dress with a wet towel, looking furious.

Janey held out the glass. The drugged one.

"Sister," Janey said, her voice trembling with fake emotion. "Thank you for saving me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Doria looked at the glass, then at Janey's pathetic expression. She sneered internally.

"Cheers, Janey," Doria said.

She took the glass. She drank.