Chapter 2
Margaret's POV
Seven a.m. Hampton estate was already chaos.
Morning light filled the bridal suite. A stylist was making final adjustments to my Vera Wang gown — three hundred thousand dollars of silk and lace that suddenly felt like a costume.
I kept cycling through Sterling's message from earlier. Every lead on Sebastian Grayson was a dead end. I stared at my reflection — that familiar blur in the mirror — and ran through my options. If Sebastian was a ghost, I needed another way to blow this whole thing up before noon.
The door opened.
I didn't need to look. Her perfume hit me first — that heavy, sweet floral she always overdid.
Isabelle.
"Oh, Margaret. You look amazing today." Fake as hell.
I watched her shape in the mirror. White. She was wearing white — an elaborate lace gown with a pearl-trimmed veil pinned in her hair.
Wearing white to someone else's wedding is a statement. A deliberate one. And Isabelle looked like she was auditioning for the lead role.
"White? Really?" My voice was flat.
She flinched. "Mom picked it out. She said it makes me look less pale. You're not mad, are you? My depression's been awful lately, and this dress just... it helps, you know?"
"Save it, Isabelle." I didn't turn around. "This is MY wedding. Not yours. But hey — as long as you can sleep tonight."
She froze. Hadn't expected that. After a beat, she mumbled something about checking on Theodore and left.
Eight a.m. sharp. Sterling arrived with the blank prenup.
Eight-thirty. Another knock.
"Margaret? Can I come in?"
Theodore's voice. Or a damn good impression of it.
I took a breath. "Come in."
The door opened. A man in a black tuxedo walked in, crossed the room, and dropped to one knee. He took my hand. "Baby, you look incredible. I can't wait to say 'I do' in front of everyone."
The voice was perfect. The cadence, the rhythm — identical.
I leaned in closer.
Dior Sauvage hit me hard. Too strong, like it was sprayed on to cover something underneath.
Something was off.
Theodore had a habit — whenever he held my hand, his thumb would brush across my knuckles. Every single time. This man didn't do that.
And underneath all that cologne, I caught it. Cedar. Faint trace of tobacco. Quiet but there.
My pulse kicked up. I ignored it.
I glanced down at his wrist. Same Rolex Theodore always wore. But when his sleeve shifted, I saw it — a deep crescent-shaped scar on his left wrist.
Theodore didn't have that scar.
But I knew who did.
Three years ago at a Wall Street gala, a champagne tower went sideways. Someone stepped in front of me and took the broken glass. His wrist got sliced open deep enough for stitches.
That someone was Theodore's older half-brother. Wall Street's biggest shark. The one person Theodore feared more than anyone else on the planet.
Sebastian Grayson.
"You're not the actor." I tightened my grip on his hand. "You're Sebastian."
He froze.
Dead silence.
Then he laughed — low and quiet. The Theodore impression dropped completely, replaced by something deeper. Unhurried. With an edge to it.
"Yeah, you got me." He stood and pulled his tie loose. "My idiot brother posted a bounty on the dark web. Hundred grand for a stand-in. So I took the job — figured I'd see what the hell he was up to."
"And now you know." I didn't look away. "He's planning to humiliate me in front of three hundred people while he runs a REAL wedding with my sister in the rose garden."
Sebastian's whole energy shifted. "What do you need from me? You want me to beat the hell out of him? Buy out his company and watch him crash?"
"Too easy." I walked to the vanity, picked up the document Sterling had left, and turned back around. "Theodore thinks I'm helpless because I'm face-blind. That I can't tell real from fake."
I held out the prenup.
"So here's what I'm thinking — you sign this, come with me to City Hall, and be the actual groom today. What do you say?"
Sebastian looked down at the document. Fifteen percent of Thornhill Group. Co-ownership of three properties.
"Margaret." His voice dropped. He stepped closer, crowding my space. "Are you serious right now? I'm Theodore's BROTHER. You'd be tying yourself to the other half of the Grayson family war."
"The enemy of my enemy." My voice stayed cool. "You need Thornhill's resources to finish Theodore on the board. I need the right weapon to turn his wedding day into his worst nightmare. That's a clean trade."
Silence. Long enough that I started calculating my next move.
Then he pulled a pen from his jacket and signed. No hesitation.
"Clean trade." He handed it back, something unreadable in his posture. "But fair warning — once you're in with me, there's no walking it back. Not ever."
"Ten minutes. Back entrance. City Hall." I slipped the document into my clutch and stood.
Ten a.m.
While Theodore and Isabelle were sneaking through their fake vows in the rose garden, Sebastian and I stood in front of a judge at City Hall.
"Margaret Thornhill, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do."
"Sebastian Grayson, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do."
The judge signed the certificate.
Done. Sebastian Grayson and I were legally married.
