Olivia's pov

Two hefty men were standing outside my door. I didn't know either of them. No uniforms, just dark suits. One tall, one wide, standing on either side of my door like they'd been posted there all night waiting for exactly this moment.

"Mr Morgan sent us," the tall one said. Calm, like he was telling me what time it was. "You're needed at the courthouse first thing in the morning. Please go back in and get some rest." He smiled as he pointed at my room signalling me to go back in.

I stepped back. My hand went tight around the bag strap, the handle slick with my own sweat.

"I AM NOT GOING!!!" My voice echoed loudly.

The wide one took one step forward.

"You're going. It's our job to bring you to the courthouse safely. We have prepared your civil outfit. It will be here at 6 am.

Neither of them touched me.

I looked past them. Down the stairs. I imagined the front door. The street. The bus station. Somewhere else. I was foolish. I shouldn't have returned after that meeting. That was a terrible mistake. I might as well have been on the moon. My life was about to take a drastic turn and I couldn't do anything to change it. The cold hit my chest again.

I went back into my room and put the bag on the bed and took everything back out. The jeans, the shirt, the money and put it all back in the drawer. Sat down. The springs creaked. I couldn't sleep. Morning came so fast.

I heard a knock on the door. "It's time." Everything happened so fast.

The courthouse was small and empty. Wooden benches, a judge, a table. No flowers. No music. The judge looked old and tired, like this was just another Tuesday for him.

My father stood by the table with his arms crossed, face blank, not looking at me as I came in.

My mother sat on a bench with her hands folded in her lap. She didn't look either. She seemed to be avoiding me since yesterday.

Jessica wasn't there at all.

Two men were standing in front. Based on their outfit, I couldn't already tell which one was Nathan Hayes. Dark blue suit, expensive looking, tie crooked, hair a mess. His eyes weren't focusing right.

He was drunk. I caught the whiskey smell from across him, sharp and sweet at the same time. He swayed a little on his feet. He blinked slowly like it took effort to open his eyes back up each time.

He looked at me when I walked in and his eyebrows pulled together like he was trying to place me.

"Where's Jessica," he said. The words ran together at the edges.

Nobody answered him.

We were seated and the procedure started. I signed papers.

Then it was over.

Nathan came toward me, stopped a foot away, and really looked at my face for the first time. Green eyes. Brown hair. Nothing like Jessica at all.

"Jessica," he said.

I didn't correct him.

He said it again at the courthouse door. Jessica, car's waiting.

He said it in the car. Jessica, you're being quiet.

He said it that night in a bedroom that wasn't mine, in a house that wasn't mine, in a life that had nothing to do with me at all.

Jessica.

I lay still on silk sheets in a bed big enough for four people, in a room that smelled like whiskey and his cologne and something else I couldn't put a name to.

He was on his back, mouth open, breathing heavy, shoes still on his feet, tie still crooked, shirt half untucked.

Jessica, he mumbled. Then his breathing settled into something even. 

I was twenty-two years old. I had never been kissed. Never been on a date. Never been loved or...wanted...or chosen by anyone, not once, not even a little.

And now I was lying in a stranger's bed. A stranger who'd married me thinking I was someone else.

The door opened.

A woman stood there. Older, her gray hair pulled back, lines on her face, hands that looked like they'd done real work for a long time. She was holding a tray, water, a sandwich, and a small knife. She walked in quietly, and set the tray down on the table by the bed, and looked at me. Her eyes were kind. First kind eyes I'd seen all day.

"This is for you," she said with a wuiet voice. Some kind of accent. "If you need anything."

"Who are you," I said. My voice came out rough. I hadn't talked since the courthouse.

"Mia. I'm the housekeeper." She glanced at Nathan, passed out with his shoes still on. "He isn't usually like this."

"I wouldn't know," I said. "I don't know him at all."

She looked at me properly then. My green eyes. My brown hair. My face that I had clearly been crying for hours.

"You're Jessica," she said.

"No. I mean. Yyes." I said hurriedly, nodding my head.

She nodded slowly.

"Eat something," she said. "You'll need it."

She left, and the door closed soft behind her.

I sat up and looked at the tray. The sandwich. The water. The little silver knife.

I was starving. I hadn't eaten properly in two days. Just bits of bread, cold pasta, nothing much.

My hand moved toward the sandwich. I eat like a bush girl. I had no choice. I took a deep breath after I was done eating.

I put my hand back down and lay back against the silk sheets and looked up at that perfect white ceiling.

Tomorrow he'll wake up sober. He'd see my face and know exactly who I wasn't. And then it would all start. I have been abused physically and emotionally my whole life. Would this be any different when he finds out the truth? 

Morning came already. I woke up before him. He finally woke up and looked at me with a confusing look. 

I swallowed hard. "Good morning," I said.

He squinted his eyes.

" Who are you?" He said. My jaw dropped instantly.

Nathan's Pov

The light was too bright.

I shut my eyes again. The room kept tilting a little even with them closed. I remember going to the bar last night to ease my frustration. My mother Patricia, had made an alliance with Morgan's tech through marriage. That meant I had to marry one of his daughters, Jessica. I wasn't happy but I couldn't refuse either.

I forced my eyes open and turned my head, which made everything tilt worse. She was still there. I thought I was hallucinating from the effect of the alcohol. But apparently, I wasn't.

My brain was working in slow motion.

"What the hell." My voice came out wrecked. I sat up too fast and the room spun. I pressed my palm against my forehead. "I said, who are you and how did you get in here?"

She turned her head and looked at me. She had green eyes. Sad in a way that told me she already knew what was about to happen.

"Olivia," she said softly.

I stared at her, trying to drag something out of last night. The courthouse. The judge. Papers. A woman who wasn't...

"What a minute. Where's Jessica," I said. Sharper now. The fog was burning off, just not fast enough.

She didn't answer. Just looked at me with those tired eyes.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My skull throbbed with the movement. "Jessica," I said again, louder. "Where is she?" I moved frantically around the room. "What did you do? This better not be what I think it is because if it is, you are going to regret it. I am going to ask you for the last time. WHERE IS JESSICA?"

"Not here," Olivia said.

I actually looked at her properly. Brown hair. Pale. Small. Wearing some old black dress that had clearly seen better decades.

"Oh. Are you looking at my clothes? I changed into this last night after eating. Sandwich."

"I am a joke to you? Who the hell are you! What were you doing on my bed?" I said again.

"Olivia Morgan. I'm Jessica's sister."

The room swayed and I grabbed the bedpost. My shirt was untucked, my shoes were still on, and I looked exactly as bad as I felt.

"Sister?" I said. "Her sister?" I said as my eyes widened in shock. 

"Yes."

I ran a hand through my hair. My fingers wouldn't stop shaking. "What happened last night. Where's Jessica? And why is her sister here in my bed?"

She sat up slowly. Her hands in her lap, gripping her own fingers hard enough to give them another shape.

"I tried telling you," she said. "Last night. But you were too drunk. You kept calling me Jessica."

I stopped breathing for a second.

"Calling you Jessica," I repeated.

"Yes."

I stood firm 

"Explain," I said. I didn't turn around. I couldn't look at her yet. "Now."

"The marriage was supposed to be Jessica's," she said. Soft. Shaking a little. "My father arranged it. But he..." she took a deep breath and continued. He said Jessica was too young to get married and that I should go instead. So they used me."

I spun around. "Used you?" I was confused by that statement.

She flinched. Just barely. But I caught it.

"My father told me if I refused he'd throw me out. I am sorry. I didn't have a choice. Please." Her eyes softened. "Forgive me, please." 

She dropped to her knees fidgeting.

"You expect me to believe that." I laughed and it came out hollow. "You didn't see a rich husband sitting there for the taking?"

"I don't want your money," she said. "I don't want any of this."

"Then why'd you do it."

"Because I didn't have a choice. Don't you see it?"

"Hmmm. Truly, what is there to see?" I gave her a disgusting look.

I crossed the room toward her. Every step made my headache worse. I stopped right in front of her. She looked up. Didn't flinch this time. Didn't look away either.

"You could've said no. Walked out. Done literally, anything else."

She shook her head slow. "You don't know my father."

"Your father," I said. "Richard Morgan."

"Yes."

I turned and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. I scrolled to his contact and called.

It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing.

I tried again. Nothing.

"He's not picking up." The words came out through my teeth. I was gripping the phone so hard my knuckles could scream for help. "Shocking."

"I don't know where he is," Olivia said.

I threw the phone onto the bed. It bounced once, landed face down. "This is insane. I never agreed to this. None of this. You and your father played me. You guys played all of us." I said firmly through my teeth while pointing at her.

"The marriage is legal," she said quietly. "We signed papers. A judge witnessed it."

"Because I was drunk!" My voice came out way too loud, bouncing off the walls. "Someone shoved papers in front of me and I signed them! That's not consent! If I was stable, I would have married you. Let alone bring you home!"

She didn't say anything to that.

"Your father did this," I said, pacing now, back and forth. The walls felt like they were closing in a little. "He set the whole thing up. Drunk man, marriage certificate, and..." I stopped and looked at her. "He gave me you."

"Yes."

"Because Jessica was too young."

"Yes."

"And you're not."

"Apparently not."

I sat down heavy on the edge of the bed. I put my head in my hands. Everything was shaking. My hands, my legs, all of it.

"This is a nightmare," I said. "An actual nightmare."

"Someone had to marry you," Olivia said. So quietly. I almost missed it. "My father needed the merger. He needed the money from it. So he found someone else to hand over. He found me."

I looked at her through my fingers. "You're really saying you had no choice in this."

"I'm saying I had no good choices. I could've said no and he'd have thrown me out. No friends. No money. Nothing waiting for me anywhere to fall to."

"So you chose this."

"I chose to survive."

I stared at her. The sadness was still there in her face but something else had crept in underneath it. A bit of fight. Small, but there.

"You're telling me you're a victim," I said.

"I'm not telling you anything," she said. "You asked. I answered. Believe whatever you want."

I opened my mouth to say something cruel back. Something to make her feel even a fraction of what I was feeling.

My phone buzzed before I could.

Unknown number. A video attached.

I clicked it.