"This is ridiculous!" Isla snatched the marriage certificate from Victoria's hands, studying it closer. Her signature looked real—too real. "This must be fake. Some kind of trick."
Victoria raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "I assure you, Ms. Bennett—or should I say Mrs. Calloway—this document is entirely legitimate."
Isla shook her head, her perfect day crumbling around her. "I'm engaged to Julian Mercer. Look!" She thrust her diamond ring toward Victoria. "I've never even heard of Damien Calloway!"
"Yet you somehow married him three nights ago." Victoria's lips curled into something between a smile and a sneer. "Damien is equally... surprised by this development."
The bathroom door swung open as two chattering associates entered. Victoria smoothly took Isla's arm, leading her outside to the hallway.
"The Morgan Foundation Gala. Tonight at the Bayside Hotel," Victoria whispered, pressing a golden invitation into Isla's palm. "Damien will be there. Perhaps between the two of you, we can sort out this unfortunate situation."
Before Isla could respond, Victoria glided toward the elevators, leaving behind a trail of expensive perfume and unanswered questions.
Isla stared at the invitation, her lawyer's mind racing. Maybe this was some elaborate scam. But why target her? And how did they copy her signature so perfectly?
Her phone buzzed—a text from Julian.
Still waiting to hear your big news! Did they make you partner??
Partner. The promotion. The meeting. Everything she'd worked for suddenly seemed distant, unimportant compared to this bizarre crisis.
"You don't have to go to this gala," Julian insisted hours later as Isla paced their apartment. She'd shown him the marriage certificate, and after his initial shock and disbelief, he'd called his friend at the county clerk's office. The result was disturbing—the certificate was real and properly filed.
"I need answers, Julian." Isla slipped into her emerald gown, the one she'd bought for their engagement party. "I can't just ignore this."
Julian loosened his bow tie, frustration evident in his usually calm face. "Then I'm coming with you. If this Damien character is pulling some kind of con—"
"We need to handle this carefully," Isla interrupted, touching his arm. She felt strangely protective of Julian, as if she were stepping into a danger zone and didn't want him caught in the crossfire. "I'm a lawyer, remember? I'll figure out what's happening."
Julian's brown eyes—usually so warm—flashed with anger. "You expect me to just wait here while my fiancée meets her supposed husband?" He grabbed his jacket. "Not happening, Isla."
She knew that determined look. There would be no changing his mind.
The Bayside Hotel ballroom sparkled with crystal chandeliers and the jewelry of San Francisco's elite. The Morgan Foundation Gala was the social event of the season—a gathering of the city's wealthiest tech moguls, business tycoons, and politicians.
Isla moved through the crowd, Julian's hand firm at the small of her back. Her eyes scanned for Victoria Calloway or anyone who might be the mysterious Damien.
"There she is," Julian muttered, nodding toward the bar.
Victoria stood chatting with two men in expensive suits, her silver-streaked hair swept into an elegant updo. When she spotted Isla, she excused herself and glided over.
"You came. Good." Victoria's gaze shifted to Julian with poorly disguised disdain. "And you brought... a friend."
"My fiancé," Isla corrected, emphasizing the word. "Julian Mercer."
Julian extended his hand stiffly. "I understand there's been some confusion about Isla's marital status."
Victoria ignored his hand. "No confusion, Mr. Mercer. Only facts. Come, Isla—Damien is eager to meet you. Properly this time."
As Victoria led them through the crowd, Isla felt Julian tense beside her. She squeezed his hand, though her own stomach churned with anxiety.
They approached a group of men near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay. Victoria touched the shoulder of a tall figure with his back to them.
"Damien, darling. Your wife has arrived."
The man turned, and Isla's breath caught in her throat.
Damien Calloway was striking—tall and broad-shouldered with sharp cheekbones and penetrating blue eyes that seemed to look straight through her. His dark hair was swept back from his forehead, highlighting a small scar above his right eyebrow.
For a split second, something flickered in those blue eyes—recognition? Surprise? Whatever it was vanished instantly behind a cold, assessing stare.
"Ms. Bennett." His voice was deep, with an edge that sent a strange shiver down Isla's spine. "Or apparently, Mrs. Calloway."
Julian stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of Isla. "This is clearly some kind of mistake—"
"Agreed," Damien cut in, never taking his eyes off Isla. "The question is, what kind of mistake? And who made it?"
Isla met his gaze directly. "I've never seen you before in my life."
Damien's mouth twitched. "Likewise. Yet here we are—legally bound strangers."
"Not for long," Isla countered. "I'll file for annulment tomorrow morning."
Something dangerous flashed in Damien's eyes. "Eager to be rid of me already? We haven't even had our first dance."
Victoria clapped her hands together. "What a splendid idea! A dance between husband and wife."
"Absolutely not," Julian protested, but the music had already changed to a slow waltz, and Damien had extended his hand to Isla.
"One dance," Damien said. "Then we can discuss dissolving this... arrangement privately."
Isla glanced at Julian, whose face had darkened with anger. "Five minutes," she assured him. "We need answers."
Reluctantly, she placed her hand in Damien's, ignoring the unexpected warmth that spread up her arm at his touch. He led her to the dance floor, placing one hand properly at her waist while holding her other hand firmly.
"I don't know what game you're playing," he murmured as they moved across the floor, "but marrying me was a dangerous move."
"I didn't marry you," Isla hissed. "I don't even know you."
"Then how do you explain this?" From his pocket, he produced a photo—a selfie of the two of them, her head on his shoulder, both smiling. Isla's heart pounded as she stared at the image. It was undeniably her, wearing a dress she'd never seen before.
"That's... impossible," she whispered. "Where did you get this?"
"It was on my phone the morning after our supposed wedding." His grip tightened slightly. "Along with hotel receipts, champagne charges, and this." He pulled back his sleeve to reveal a watch—platinum with a navy face.
Isla stared at it, a flash of something like memory tickling the edges of her mind. "What about that watch?"
"According to the engraving, it was a wedding gift. From you." He turned it over, revealing tiny words etched into the back: To D, Forever Yours, I.
Isla felt the room spin slightly. "I didn't... I couldn't have..."
"Yet here we are." Damien's eyes narrowed. "Someone went to great lengths to make it appear we willingly married each other. The question is, who? And why?"
From the corner of her eye, Isla saw Victoria watching them intently while Julian stood fuming nearby. Something about Victoria's smile made Isla's skin crawl.
"Your stepmother seems pleased with herself," Isla noted.
Damien glanced at Victoria. "Victoria has her own agenda. Always has. But this... this is extreme even for her."
As the music ended, Damien released her, but leaned close to whisper in her ear. "Don't drink anything Victoria offers you. Not tonight, not ever."
Before Isla could respond, Victoria appeared beside them with two champagne flutes. "A toast," she announced, "to the happy couple finding each other again."
Julian rushed over, taking Isla's arm possessively. "This charade has gone on long enough."
Victoria ignored him, pressing a glass into Isla's hand. "Just one toast, then you're free to go. Business etiquette, my dear."
Isla hesitated, remembering Damien's warning. Yet refusing would cause a scene, drawing unwanted attention to their bizarre situation. With all eyes on her, she raised the glass to her lips and took a small sip.
The champagne tasted oddly bitter. She lowered the glass, her vision suddenly blurring at the edges.
"Are you alright?" Julian asked, noticing her sway slightly.
"I'm fine," Isla murmured, though her tongue felt strangely heavy. She looked at Victoria, whose smile had grown wider, then at Damien, who was watching her with sudden alarm.
The room began to spin faster, voices becoming distant and echo-like. She tried to set down her glass but missed the table completely. The crystal shattered on the marble floor, drawing gasps from nearby guests.
"Isla?" Julian's voice sounded miles away.
She stumbled, her knees buckling. Strong arms caught her before she hit the floor—not Julian's, but Damien's. As he lifted her, her head rolled against his chest.
"You were right," she whispered, her words slurring. "Shouldn't have... drunk it."
The last thing Isla saw before darkness claimed her was Victoria's triumphant smile and Damien's face, contorted with something that looked surprisingly like fear.
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