Mia's POV
The buttercream rose was almost perfect when my phone started screaming.
I ignored the first three calls. My father's birthday cake needed six more roses, and I'd already messed up two trying to get the petals just right. The tiny kitchen behind Chen's Family Restaurant smelled like vanilla and hope—Dad would be sixty tomorrow, and this cake would make him smile. That's all I wanted.
The fourth call came with five texts.
Then my mother's voice cut through the air like broken glass.
MIA CATHERINE CHEN, IF YOU DON'T ANSWER THIS PHONE RIGHT NOW
My hand jerked. The pastry bag slipped. Pink buttercream splattered across the marble counter.
I grabbed my phone. Mom, I'm working
Get to the Plaza Hotel. NOW.
My stomach dropped. What? Why would I
Your sister's wedding is in three hours, and she's GONE! My mother's voice cracked with hysteria. Vanished! Do you understand what that means?
The pastry bag fell from my numb fingers.
Vivienne's wedding. To Christian Steele. The billionaire hotel mogul whose face was on every business magazine in Manhattan. The wedding that cost more than most people earned in five years.
Gone where? I whispered.
If I knew that, I wouldn't be calling YOU! Mom shrieked. Get here. Immediately.
The line went dead.
Twenty minutes later, I burst through the Plaza Hotel's service entrance, my flour-stained apron still tied around my jeans. A security guard tried to stop me, but I dodged past him, following the sound of chaos to the Imperial Suite.
The scene looked like a bomb had exploded in a bridal magazine.
Wedding planners shouted into phones. Makeup artists stood frozen with brushes in hand. Racks of white dresses lined the walls. Flowers covered every surface. And in the center of it all stood my mother—perfect as always in her cream designer suit, her face a mask of controlled panic.
Her eyes locked on me. Finally.
Mom, what's happening? Where's Vivienne?
My mother grabbed my wrist, her manicured nails digging into my skin. She dragged me into the bathroom and slammed the door.
Your sister, she hissed, sent a text two hours ago. 'I can't do this. Tell Christian I'm sorry.' That's it. No phone calls. No explanation. She's GONE.
My brain couldn't process it. But... the wedding...
Is happening in exactly two hours and forty-three minutes. Mom's eyes were wild. Five hundred guests. Every important person in Manhattan. The press. Christian's business partners. Do you understand what canceling means?
Mom, if Vivienne doesn't want to marry him
This isn't about what SHE wants! My mother's voice turned to ice. I borrowed money from the wedding fund. A lot of money.
The bathroom suddenly felt too small.
How much? I asked.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
The number punched the air from my lungs.
You... what?
I needed it. She wouldn't meet my eyes. Things were tight. The country club fees, Vivienne's apartment, the new car. I planned to pay it back before anyone noticed.
Mom. My voice shook. That money wasn't yours.
Christian gave it to us for wedding expenses! I used it for expenses!
Gambling debts aren't wedding expenses!
Her hand cracked across my face.
I stumbled back, my cheek burning. We stared at each other. I'd never said it out loud before that I knew about Atlantic City, about the credit cards, about all of it
Mom's expression shifted from shock to something colder. Calculating.
If there's no wedding, she said slowly, Christian will want his money back. When we can't produce it, he'll investigate. He'll find out where it went. That's fraud, Mia. Prison time.
So tell him the truth! Tell him Vivienne ran away and you made a mistake
I won't go to prison. Her voice was flat. And neither will your father.
My blood turned to ice. Dad has nothing to do with this.
Christian won't see it that way. The money was given to the Chen family. Your father's name is on the contract too. When I go down, he goes down with me.
You're lying.
Am I? She pulled out her phone, showed me a document. There it was—my father's signature next to my mother's, both promising to use the funds for wedding purposes only.
Dad didn't even know. He'd signed whatever Mom put in front of him, trusting her like he always did.
His heart attack was three months ago, Mom continued, her voice soft and poisonous. Doctors said another major stress could kill him. What do you think prison would do? Or losing the restaurant? Everything he built?
I couldn't breathe.
No, I whispered. No, you can't—
There's another option. Mom walked to the bathroom door, opened it. Through the gap, I saw it.
The wedding dress.
White silk and lace, hanging like a ghost in the afternoon light. Beautiful and terrible.
You're the same height as Vivienne, Mom said. Same build, close enough. With the veil and makeup, no one will know. You walk down that aisle, say 'I do,' smile for the pictures. By the time Christian figures it out, the ceremony's over and our contract is fulfilled.
My laugh came out broken. That's insane.
That's survival.
Christian will know I'm not her the second he sees my face!
Not with the veil. It's cathedral length, heavy lace. You keep it down during the ceremony. After the reception, you tell him everything. You apologize. You offer to annul it immediately. Mom's eyes bore into mine. One afternoon, Mia. A few hours. Then it's over.
And you think he won't have us all arrested anyway?
Maybe. Maybe not. But at least we'll have fulfilled the contract. At least we tried. She stepped closer. Or we can do nothing. Let the wedding collapse. Watch Christian destroy our family for fraud. Watch your father have another heart attack when he loses everything.
Tears burned my eyes. I can't do this.
Yes, you can. Mom's voice turned gentle, which was somehow worse. You've spent your whole life being invisible, Mia. Being the forgettable one. This is your chance to save Dad. To actually matter.
The words hit like bullets.
Through the open door, I saw the wedding planner checking her watch, panicking. Saw the dress hanging there, waiting for a bride.
Any bride.
I'll tell him the truth right after, I heard myself say. The second the ceremony ends.
Mom's smile was triumphant. Of course, darling. Whatever you think is best.
She called the glam team in. They descended on me like vultures, pulling off my clothes, pushing me into a chair. Someone yanked my hair back. Someone else started painting my face.
I caught my reflection in the mirror—plain Mia Chen, the invisible daughter, about to become someone else.
The makeup artist held up two different lipsticks. Which one did Vivienne want?
I opened my mouth to say I didn't know.
Then I saw it.
Vivienne's phone, discarded on the counter. The screen lit up with a new message.
From someone named Damian.
I'll be waiting at the airport, my love. Our new life starts today.
My sister hadn't just run away from her wedding.
She'd run away WITH someone.
And I was about to marry her billionaire groom in her place.
The rose, I whispered. Vivienne wanted the rose lipstick.
The dress was already being lowered over my head when I realized what I'd just agreed to do.