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Chapter 4 - Chapter 4: A Stranger’s Penthouse

I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine, under sheets that felt too clean, in a silence that didn't belong to me.

The sun filtered through the tall glass windows like it had permission. I blinked into the brightness and for a second, forgot where I was.

Then I remembered.

Contract. Marriage. Brother.

Alexander Knight.

I sat up slowly. The gown from the "wedding" was gone. Replaced with a silk robe I didn't recognize. A note lay on the nightstand beside me.

> "Don't get too comfortable. This is temporary. —AK"

He hadn't seen me. Hadn't even shown up for the ceremony. But somehow, he still managed to remind me of my place.

I got up, feet sinking into the thick carpet. The room was beautiful — a walk-in closet, a wall-mounted screen, and a view of the city so high it made my stomach flip. Everything screamed luxury. But not warmth. No pictures. No books. No soul.

Downstairs, I met the housekeeper again. Same grey bun. Same blank face.

"Mr. Knight's schedule is full today," she said as she handed me a printed itinerary. "However, he requests that you attend tonight's gala as his wife."

I stared at the paper. Fashion fitting at 3 p.m., chauffeur at 6 p.m., event by 7.

I had barely been married for 24 hours and I was already being paraded like a trophy.

"Can I at least talk to him?" I asked.

"He will contact you when necessary."

Necessary.

I was starting to hate that word.

By afternoon, a stylist arrived with racks of gowns, heels, and jewelry. She was cheerful. Chatty. Treated me like a doll she was hired to decorate.

"What's the theme of the gala?" I asked.

She blinked. "Darling, it's not about the theme. It's about the entrance. And tonight, you're his wife. That's your role."

Role.

Another word I was starting to hate.

When I finally looked in the mirror, I didn't recognize myself. Hair up in a sleek bun, lips painted bold, dressed in something that shimmered when I moved.

I looked expensive. Powerful.

But inside, I still felt like the girl who sold her freedom to save someone else's life.

The car came right on time. The driver nodded silently and opened the door.

I stepped into the backseat, phone in hand, heart beating loud.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.

Alexander Knight:

Smile when you walk in. We're not real, but they don't need to know that.

I stared at the screen.

Then typed back.

Alexa:

Right. Just acting.

No reply.

Of course not.

The building came into view — all lights, cameras, and whispers.

And as I stepped out, flashing lights surrounded me.

Then, finally, I saw him.

Alexander Knight.

In a black tuxedo, standing by the stairs like a king surveying his court.

Our eyes met.

He didn't smile.

He just offered his arm.

I took it.

The act had begun.

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