Mia's POV
The cathedral doors swung open, and my legs turned to water.
Music exploded through the air—violins and organs and something grand that made my chest hurt. Every single person in those wooden pews stood up and turned to look at me.
Five hundred strangers. Five hundred witnesses to my lie.
I couldn't move.
Miss Chen? The wedding planner's voice was urgent behind me. It's time.
Through the thick lace veil, I could barely see the cathedral. Just blurred shapes and colored light streaming through stained glass windows. But at the end of that impossibly long aisle, I saw him clearly.
Christian Steele.
Even through the veil, he was impossible to miss. Tall and powerful in his black tuxedo, standing at the altar like he owned the world. Which, according to the business magazines, he basically did.
His hands were clasped in front of him. His spine was straight. His face was perfectly calm.
He had no idea the wrong woman was about to walk toward him.
Or did he?
My mother's hiss cut through my panic. MOVE, Mia. NOW.
My feet started walking. One step. Another.
The music swelled. Everyone watched. My hands strangled the bouquet so hard I felt stems crack.
Fifty steps to the altar. I counted each one.
Forty-nine. Forty-eight. Forty-seven.
What was I doing? This was insane. Criminal. Wrong on every possible level.
I could still stop. Turn around. Run.
Forty-two. Forty-one. Forty.
But Dad's face flashed in my mind. His smile. His gentle hands teaching me to fold croissant dough. His voice saying, You're my special girl, Mimi.
If I ran, he lost everything.
Thirty-five. Thirty-four.
The guests became clearer as I got closer. Society women in designer dresses, dripping with diamonds. Men in expensive suits checking their phones. This was their world—money and power and appearances.
Not mine. Never mine.
Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven.
Christian hadn't moved. He stood perfectly still, watching me approach. Even through the veil, I felt his eyes tracking my every step.
Could he tell? Was my walk different than Vivienne's? My height slightly off? My shoulders too tense?
Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen.
My heart pounded so hard I was sure the microphones would pick it up. The music seemed too loud. The cathedral too hot. The dress too tight.
Fifteen. Fourteen.
A woman in the third row whispered something to her companion. Were they suspicious? Did they know?
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Christian's face came into focus. Sharp jaw. High cheekbones. Dark hair perfectly styled. And his eyes—ice blue, cutting through the lace veil like it wasn't even there.
Those eyes saw everything.
Five. Four. Three.
I reached the altar steps.
Christian's hand extended toward me.
For one horrible second, I thought about ignoring it. About running back down that aisle and never looking back.
Then I placed my trembling fingers in his palm.
Electricity shot up my arm.
His hand was warm. Strong. His fingers closed around mine with firm pressure, and I gasped so quietly only he could hear.
His eyes narrowed slightly. Studying me.
He knew something was wrong. I could feel it.
But five hundred people watched. Cameras flashed from every angle. This wedding was being livestreamed to thousands more.
He couldn't stop now. Neither could I.
Christian guided me up the two steps to stand beside him. The priest smiled—some older man with kind eyes who had no idea he was about to marry a billionaire to a complete stranger.
Dearly beloved, the priest began, his voice echoing through the massive cathedral, we are gathered here today to join Christian Alexander Steele and Vivienne Marie Chen in holy matrimony.
Vivienne Marie Chen. My sister's name in this priest's mouth.
My knees nearly buckled.
Christian's hand tightened on mine. Not painful. Just... there. Steady. Like he was holding me up.
I risked a glance at his face. He stared straight ahead, his expression carved from stone. But his thumb—his thumb brushed across my knuckles once. Twice.
What did that mean?
Marriage is a sacred bond, the priest continued. A commitment between two souls who choose to build a life together. To love, honor, and cherish one another through all of life's joys and sorrows.
Love. Honor. Cherish.
I was built on lies from the first step.
My breath came too fast. The veil suddenly felt suffocating. I needed air. Needed to run. Needed to—
Breathe. Christian's voice was so soft only I heard it. Just breathe.
I sucked in air, my chest heaving under the tight bodice.
How did he know I was panicking? Could he feel my pulse hammering through my fingers? Hear my ragged breathing?
If anyone here has reason these two should not be wed, the priest announced, speak now or forever hold your peace.
Silence filled the cathedral.
I have a reason, I wanted to scream. I'M NOT WHO YOU THINK I AM.
But my mouth stayed closed.
The priest smiled and turned to Christian. Christian Alexander Steele, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?
Christian's eyes never left my face. Even through the veil, I felt his gaze burning into me.
I do. His voice was steady. Strong. Certain.
The words hit me like a physical blow.
He'd just promised to love and cherish me forever. Except he thought I was Vivienne. Except this was all a lie. Except—
Vivienne Marie Chen. The priest turned to me, still smiling. Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?
My throat closed completely.
Everyone waited.
The priest's smile faltered slightly. Miss Chen?
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do this.
Christian's hand squeezed mine harder. A warning. A command.
I... My voice cracked. Broke. I...
My mother coughed loudly from the front row. A sharp, deliberate sound.
I thought of Dad watching this livestream from his hospital room. Proud. Happy. Believing his daughter was marrying a good man.
I do, I whispered.
The microphone caught it. The words echoed through the cathedral, sealing my fate.
Then by the power vested in me by the State of New York, the priest announced, his voice joyful, I now pronounce you husband and wife.
No. No no no no
You may kiss your bride.
The world stopped spinning.
Christian's hands released mine and moved to my veil.
This was it. The moment of truth.
When he lifted that lace, everyone would see my face. See that I wasn't Vivienne. See that this entire wedding was a fraud.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
Christian's fingers grasped the delicate lace. Slowly—so slowly it felt like torture, he began to lift the veil.
Past my chin.
I saw his eyes widen slightly. His jaw tighten.
Past my nose.
His breath caught. Just for a second. So quick I almost missed it.
Past my eyes.
The veil fell back over my shoulders, and suddenly I could see everything clearly.
Five hundred faces watching us. Camera flashes exploding like stars. My mother in the front row, her expression frozen in a fake smile.
And Christian.
Up close, he was devastating. Sharp features that could have been carved from marble. That small scar near his left eyebrow. Lips pressed into a thin line.
And his eyes—ice blue and burning with something I couldn't name. Confusion. Anger. Suspicion.
Recognition.
He knew.
I saw it in his face. He knew I wasn't Vivienne.
But five hundred people watched. The livestream was broadcasting to thousands. Manhattan society held its breath, waiting for the kiss that sealed this union.
Christian's hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my carefully styled hair.
His face lowered toward mine.
Don't faint, he whispered, his breath warm against my lips. We're almost done.
Then his mouth touched mine.
The kiss was supposed to be quick. Formal. The brief press of lips that every wedding required.
But the moment our lips met, something electric shot through my entire body.
His mouth was warm. Firm. He kissed me like he meant it—like this wasn't a performance for five hundred strangers but something real and vital and important.
My first kiss.
And it was a lie in front of the whole world.
Christian's hand tightened on the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand settled on my waist, burning through the thin silk of my dress.
The cathedral disappeared. The guests vanished. There was only this—his lips on mine, his hands holding me steady, his heart beating against my chest.
Then he pulled back.
We stood there, foreheads nearly touching, both breathing hard.
His ice-blue eyes locked on mine, and I saw something flicker in their depths. Something dangerous.
The cathedral erupted in applause.
Christian's lips curved into the smallest smile—cold and sharp and absolutely terrifying.
He leaned in one more time, his mouth brushing my ear.
Hello, wife, he whispered, his voice like ice cutting through silk. We need to talk.