(Emily's POV)
The cathedral's side room was a cage of shadows, the stained-glass windows dimming the chaos outside. I stood by the door, my phone buzzing with alerts, Sinclair Wedding Implodes, Where's Victoria?, while Adrian paced like a trapped animal. His tie was loose, his jaw clenched. The press statement I'd sent out, calling the wedding a "postponement," was barely holding the vultures at bay.
"Emily," he snapped, stopping mid-step. "What's the damage?"
I scrolled through my tablet, my stomach twisting. "Social media's a mess. Three outlets are running 'runaway bride' stories. Our statement's trending, but it's not enough."
He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "This can't happen. Not to me."
Before I could respond, Margaret burst in, her heels clicking sharply. "Adrian, this is a disaster! The board's already whispering about your judgment. You need to fix this."
"Fix it how?" he shot back. "She's gone, Mother. What do you want me to do?"
Her eyes flicked to me, cold and calculating. "You're resourceful, Emily. Surely you have ideas."
I swallowed, Victoria's note, Find the truth or be destroyed, burning in my mind. I hadn't told Adrian about it yet. Didn't know how. "We could double down on the delay narrative," I said. "Say Victoria's sick, buy us time to figure out where she went."
Adrian shook his head. "No. That's weak. I need something stronger."
The door creaked, and Sophia slipped in, her face flushed. "Em, the guests are leaving. Clara's freaking out, says the caterer wants payment now. And the press, they're not buying the postponement."
"Great," Adrian muttered. "Just great."
Sophia glanced at me, her eyes saying you're in over your head. I ignored her, turning to Adrian. "I'll handle the caterer. And I'll get PR to push harder. We can, "
"No," he cut me off, his voice sharp. He stared at me, something shifting in his eyes. "I have an idea."
My heart skipped. "What?"
He stepped closer, his voice low. "Marry me. Right now. Be my bride for the night."
I froze, my breath catching. "What?"
"You heard me," he said. "We go out there, say it was always you. The press gets their story, I save face, and this nightmare ends."
My chest tightened, joy and pain crashing together. Marry him? Even as a lie, it was everything I'd dreamed of, and nothing I wanted like this. "Adrian, that's… crazy. People know it was Victoria."
"They'll believe what we sell," he said. "You're good at selling, Emily. Do this. One night."
I opened my mouth, but no words came. Margaret's lips pursed, but she stayed silent. Sophia, though, didn't. "Are you serious? Em, don't. This is insane."
"Stay out of it," Adrian snapped, his eyes still on me. "Emily. Can you do this?"
I wanted to say no, to run, but his gaze held me. And that stupid, hopeless part of me, the part that loved him, whispered yes. "Okay," I said, my voice barely audible. "One night."
He nodded, like it was just another deal closed. "Good. Get ready. Clara will find you a dress."
The next hour was a blur. Clara dragged me to the bridal suite, where Victoria's gown still hung like a ghost. "No way," I said, backing up. "I'm not wearing that."
"Fine," Clara said, rummaging through a rack of backup dresses. She pulled out a simple white gown, elegant but not flashy. "This. Hurry."
I changed behind a screen, my hands shaking as I zipped it up. The mirror showed a stranger, pale, wide-eyed, nothing like a bride. Clara pinned my hair up, muttering about time. My phone buzzed, Nathaniel. I ignored it. No way I could explain this.
"Emily!" Sophia barged in, her voice sharp. "You're actually doing this? For him?"
"It's just for show," I said, avoiding her eyes. "It'll save his reputation."
"His reputation?" She grabbed my shoulders. "What about yours? You love him, Em. This will break you."
"I can handle it," I lied, pulling away. "Go tell Clara I'm ready."
She stared at me, then shook her head and left. I took a breath, steadying myself. One night. I could do this.
The cathedral was quieter now, the remaining guests buzzing with confusion. The press, tipped off by someone, probably Margaret, were back, cameras ready. I stood at the side entrance, the gown heavy on my shoulders. Adrian waited at the altar, his face unreadable. The organ started, and my legs moved before my brain caught up.
Whispers followed me down the aisle. "Who's that?" "Not Victoria!" Cameras flashed, blinding. I kept my eyes on Adrian, his gaze steady but distant. The officiant, a gray-haired man, looked confused but started anyway.
"Do you, Adrian Sinclair, take this woman…"
Adrian's "I do" was firm, mechanical. Mine was softer, my voice trembling. The ring, a prop from Clara, felt cold on my finger. The officiant pronounced us married, and the crowd erupted, half in shock, half in applause. Adrian's hand gripped mine, leading me back down the aisle as cameras went wild.
Outside, he pulled me into a waiting car before the press could swarm. The door slammed, and silence hit. He let go of my hand, staring out the window.
"Good job," he said, like I'd just filed a report. "That'll shut them up."
My throat burned. "Yeah. Sure."
He glanced at me, his eyes softening for a second. "You okay?"
"Fine," I said, forcing a smile. "Just… a weird day."
He nodded, then looked away. The car pulled into traffic, heading to his penthouse for the "reception", a staged photo op to sell the story. I leaned back, my heart aching. I'd married him. And it meant nothing.
The penthouse was packed with loyalists, board members, allies, a few reporters we'd let in. I played my part, smiling, posing with Adrian for photos. His arm around my waist felt like a prop, not a promise. Margaret watched from a corner, her expression unreadable. Sophia had bailed, texting me: I can't watch this. Call me later.
I was dodging a reporter's question when Daniel cornered me near the bar. His usual smirk was gone, his eyes serious. "Emily, we need to talk."
"Not now," I said, glancing at Adrian across the room. He was talking to a board member, all business.
"Yes, now." Daniel pulled me into a quiet hallway. "You're playing with fire. This fake marriage? It's a mistake."
"It's one night," I said, crossing my arms. "I'm helping him."
"Helping him?" He laughed, bitter. "You're in love with him, Em. Everyone sees it. Except him. He'll never love you."
The words hit like a slap. "You don't know that."
"I know him," he said, stepping closer. "He's my best friend. He's broken, Emily. Victoria destroyed him, and he won't let anyone in. Not even you."
I looked away, my eyes stinging. "I don't expect him to love me. I'm just doing my job."
"Your job?" He shook his head. "You're killing yourself for him. Walk away before he breaks you."
I opened my mouth to argue, but footsteps interrupted. Adrian appeared, his eyes narrowing at Daniel. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just talking."
Adrian's gaze flicked between us, then settled on me. "We need more photos. Come on."
I nodded, brushing past Daniel. His words echoed, but I pushed them down. One night. I could survive one night.
Later, I slipped into Adrian's study to grab my tablet. The reception was winding down, the press gone. I was exhausted, my fake smile fading. On his desk, a folder caught my eye, City Hall Records. I opened it, curious.
Inside was a marriage certificate. Our names. My signature. His. Stamped and filed, dated today.
My hand trembled as I stared. He'd already sent it to City Hall. This wasn't just one night.