Skyle Hale

The house felt strangely quiet the next morning.

Too quiet.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, my thoughts tangled and heavy. Every word my father and Vivian had said replayed in my head like a cruel reminder that my life was no longer mine.

I was really going to marry him.

Not because I wanted to.

Not because I loved him.

But because I had nowhere else to go.

A knock sounded on my door,not the harsh kind this time, but firm.

Before I could answer, the door opened.

Vivian walked in first, her expression unreadable, followed closely by Ava. Ava's lips curved into a slow, victorious smile when her eyes met mine.

"Get dressed," Vivian said flatly. "Someone is here."

My heart skipped. "Who?" I asked, though I already felt the answer tightening in my chest.

"A representative from Alexander Blackwood," Ava replied smugly. "He's here to finalize things."

Finalize.

The word felt like a death sentence.

I was escorted downstairs, my legs shaky with every step. Standing in the living room was a man in a sharp suit, his posture straight and professional. He introduced himself calmly.

"My name is Ethan," he said. "Mr. Blackwood's manager."

His eyes briefly flickered to me,not with interest, not with curiosity, but with assessment. As if I were just another document to be signed.

Vivian spoke quickly, smoothly. "This is Ava Hale."

I froze.

But Ethan only nodded, unfazed. "Mr. Blackwood sends his regards. The wedding arrangements will begin immediately. The contract has already been signed by both parties."

Ava stepped back, pretending to look bored. I stood there, silent, invisible, my name erased with a single lie.

Ethan turned to leave, then paused. "The wedding will be private. No delays."

When the door closed behind him, Ava laughed softly. "Congratulations, sister," she said. "You're about to become Mrs. Blackwood."

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to run.

But all I could do was stand there, realizing that the world knew me by another woman's name,and the man I was about to marry had no idea who I really was.

Alexander Blackwood

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of my office, my hands tucked into my pockets as I watched the city pulse below me. Everything was moving as planned. Smooth. Predictable.

Just the way I liked it.

A marriage contract lay open on my desk, my signature bold at the bottom. One year. No emotions. No complications. A simple exchange,my name and influence for the stability of the Hale Group.

I scoffed softly.

Ava Hale...

Women like her were always the same. Ambitious. Calculating. Ready to trade anything for luxury and status. She had agreed far too easily, and that alone confirmed my suspicions.

Gold digger.

I picked up my phone and checked the time. Ethan would have delivered the final message by now. There was no turning back.

"Prepare the house," I said calmly into the intercom. "I don't want delays."

Marriage meant nothing to me. Love was a weakness I couldn't afford. Whatever expectations she had, she would soon learn one thing,

This marriage would be on my terms.

I turned away from the window, a faint smirk playing on my lips.

I hope you're ready, Ava Hale, I thought.

Because becoming Mrs. Alexander Blackwood is not a fairy tale.

*******

The door to my office opened without a knock.

Only one person in this world had that privilege.

"My grandmother."

Margaret Blackwood walked in with the same quiet authority she had carried all her life. She was elegant in a simple way, her silver hair neatly styled, her eyes sharp,too sharp. She had always seen through me, even when I wished she wouldn't.

"I heard something," she said calmly. "From Ethan."

I smirked, turning slightly toward her. "Ethan talks too much."

"Is it true?" she asked. "Are you getting married?"

"Yes," I answered without hesitation.

She studied me closely, her brows knitting together. "No," she said firmly. "That's not the truth. I know you better than you know yourself, Alexander. You can't marry without my knowledge, especially not like this. Tell me what's really going on."

My smirk faltered for only a second.

I sighed and walked back to my desk, leaning against it. "It's a contract," I admitted. "Onw year. Business. Nothing more."

Her eyes softened, but her voice remained steady. "And the girl?"

"She agreed," I said, shrugging lightly. "She wants what I can offer."

Margaret took a slow step forward. "Every decision has a cost," she said quietly. "And this one... it won't just be yours to pay."

For the first time, I didn't respond immediately.

"She's marrying a man who doesn't believe in love," my grandmother continued. "Do you know what kind of life that is for a woman?"

I looked away, my jaw tightening.

"I feel sorry for her," Margaret said softly.

I straightened, with my smirk returning effortlessly. "You worry too much, Grandma. She'll be fine."

But as Margaret Blackwood turned and left my office, her words lingered longer than I cared to admit.

For the first time, I wondered briefly,what kind of woman would agree to marry a man like me,I waved the thought away immediately it's unfortunate she had won my hate already.

Skyle's POV

The makeup room smelled faintly of roses and powder, soft, sweet scents that mocked the heaviness in my chest. Voices murmured around me, hands moved expertly over my face, but I felt distant, like I was watching everything from far away.

"Done," one of the women finally said.

A mirror was placed in front of me.

I stared.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

The girl in the mirror was beautiful, stunning, even. My skin glowed softly, my eyes shimmered beneath long lashes, and my lips were painted a delicate pink. The white gown hugged my body perfectly, flowing like something out of a dream.

I let out a shaky laugh.

So this was what a bride looked like.

The amusement faded quickly, replaced by a sharp ache behind my ribs. What good was beauty when my heart was breaking? What good was a wedding gown when I was walking toward a life I never chose?

I lowered my eyes, my fingers clutching the fabric of my dress. I wasn't marrying for love. I wasn't marrying for hope.

I was marrying to survive.

A knock sounded on the door.

"It's time."

My heart skipped painfully as I stood. My legs felt weak, but I forced myself to move. When the doors opened, I saw him.

My father.

Richard Hale stood stiffly in his tailored suit, looking every bit the proud businessman and nothing like a man about to give away a daughter he had ignored for years. He didn't smile. He didn't ask if I was okay. He simply extended his arm.

I hesitated before placing my hand on it.

As the music began and we stepped forward, the doors of the hall opened wide. Light poured in, reflecting off crystal chandeliers and expensive decorations. The guests turned, whispers rising like a wave.

Each step down the aisle felt like walking deeper into a trap.

I kept my eyes down, afraid that if I looked around, I might break. Afraid that if I searched the crowd, I might find someone who could save me, only to remember that no one ever had.

Then, almost against my will, I lifted my gaze.

He was standing at the altar.

Alexander Blackwood.

Tall. Composed. Cold.

His presence alone commanded the room. The black suit he wore fit him perfectly, his sharp features unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on me with calm scrutiny. He didn't look like a groom waiting for his bride.

He looked like a man closing a deal.

My throat tightened.

This was the man who believed I was Ava. The man who didn't know my name, my pain, or the truth behind this wedding.

My father stopped beside him and placed my hand into Alexander's.

The contact sent a jolt through me.

Without a word, my father stepped away.

And just like that, I was alone.

Alexander's POV

So this was Ava Hale.

I studied her quietly as she stood beside me. The rumors hadn't been exaggerated; she was undeniably beautiful. There was something soft about her, something almost fragile that didn't quite align with the ambitious woman I had imagined.

For a split second, I felt... curious.

Then I reminded myself who she was.

A woman willing to marry a stranger for money, status, and power.

The officiant's voice filled the hall, but my thoughts were elsewhere. One year. That was all. One year of playing the perfect husband for the sake of contracts and public image.

No emotions. No attachment.

When it was time, I spoke clearly. "I do."

Her turn came, and her voice trembled slightly as she answered, "I do."

The words echoed heavier than they should have.

"And now," the officiant smiled, "you may kiss the bride."

I stiffened.

I hadn't planned on this. Neither of us had, I think. I glanced at her, catching the flicker of fear in her eyes. The room waited. Cameras lifted. The silence stretched.

I leaned in.

She hesitated for a heartbeat, then leaned forward too.

Her lips were warm and soft, nothing like the cold obligation I expected. The kiss was brief, restrained, and entirely unwanted, but the crowd didn't know that. Applause erupted the moment we pulled apart.

I stepped back immediately, my jaw tightening.

This meant nothing, I told myself.

Nothing at all.

Ava's POV

My smile froze as I watched them kiss.

That should have been me.

The gown. The attention. The name, Mrs. Blackwood.

Jealousy burned hot in my chest, sharp and ugly. My nails dug into my palms as I forced myself to breathe. For a moment, panic threatened to surface.

My mom leaned close, her voice calm and reassuring. "Don't worry, Ava. It's only for a year. She's just filling in."

I swallowed and nodded slowly.

She was right.

Skyle was nothing more than a substitute.

A temporary inconvenience.

The thought settled my nerves, and a small smile curved my lips.

This was still a victory.