Chapter 3

Margaret's POV

Noon. The main lawn at Hampton estate was packed with over three hundred guests — New York's elite, politicians, old money, new money, all of them waiting for a show.

Perfect weather, string quartet playing Pachelbel, flower arrangements that probably cost six figures. Everything looked flawless.

I walked down the aisle on my father's arm, one step at a time.

"Margaret, you look beautiful." Charles leaned in, keeping his voice down. "Theodore's a good man. Treat him right. And, sweetheart, go easy on Isabelle, okay? She's having a rough day."

I stared straight ahead.

If I hadn't heard them last night, maybe I'd have believed he cared. Now? It just made me sick.

"Of course, Dad." My tone was flat. "I'll make sure everyone remembers this wedding. Forever."

Under the flower arch, Sebastian stood in that custom tuxedo, shoulders back, posture perfect. He wore dark sunglasses — claimed the morning sun had given him a migraine, so no one questioned it. Same height as Theodore, same build, same broad shoulders. Not a single guest suspected a thing.

My father placed my hand in Sebastian's.

Sebastian's palm was warm. His thumb brushed once across my ring finger.

The officiant cleared his throat and raised the microphone.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Margaret Thornhill and Theodore Grayson—"

"Wait."

My voice cut through the ceremony, amplified by the mic clipped to my dress. Clear and sharp.

The entire lawn went silent. Everyone turned.

I pivoted to face the crowd, my gaze locking onto two figures slipping in through the side entrance — Theodore and Isabelle, trying to sneak into the front row like they hadn't just come from somewhere else.

They were still wearing what they'd had on in the rose garden. Isabelle still had that ridiculous pearl veil pinned in her hair.

"Margaret, what are you doing?" My father hissed from his seat, voice tight with panic. "Stop it. Let him finish."

I ignored him. Kept my focus on Theodore and smiled.

"I just think everyone should know who the real stars of today's performance are. You know, before we get to the vows and all that."

I reached over and yanked the sunglasses off the man beside me.

Sebastian's face — sharp, brutal, unmistakable — was now fully visible in the sunlight.

The crowd gasped. Loud.

"Oh my God, that's NOT Theodore!"

"Wait — that's Sebastian Grayson!"

"Isn't he the one who got cut off? What the hell is HE doing here?"

The lawn exploded into chaos.

Theodore's face went chalk white. He stared at Sebastian like he'd seen a ghost and nearly collapsed into his chair.

Isabelle screamed and covered her mouth with both hands.

"Theodore." I spoke directly into the mic, voice steady. "When you posted that hundred-thousand-dollar bounty on the dark web looking for a stand-in, did you do ANY kind of background check? Or did you really think that as long as he wore your cologne, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference?"

"Margaret, are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" Theodore finally snapped out of it and lunged toward the platform, trying to grab the mic from me. "What the hell are you even talking about?! I'm your FIANCÉ! You're just confused because of your face blindness, right? You mixed up Sebastian with me!"

"Face blindness?" I laughed. "Yeah, I'm face-blind, Theodore. Doesn't mean I'm STUPID. You really thought you could sneak off to the rose garden, have your REAL wedding with Isabelle, and leave me up here going through the motions with some random stranger? What, did that sound romantic to you? Fun?"

The reaction was instant. Explosive.

Every single head swiveled toward Isabelle in her white lace dress.

"Oh my GOD. The adopted sister and the groom—"

"Jesus Christ, that's sick. At her own sister's wedding?"

Constance rushed forward, practically throwing herself in front of Isabelle, who looked ready to pass out. "Margaret, STOP THIS RIGHT NOW! Your sister has depression! Are you trying to kill her?! This is all a misunderstanding! Theodore was just — he was just indulging her, playing along to keep her calm!"

"Playing along?" I stared her down. "You want me to play the recording from two a.m. last night? The one where all of you sat around scheming about how to steal thirty percent of my company? How to trick me with a fake groom? How to give Isabelle her perfect little MOMENT?"

Constance's face went white. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. Nothing came out.

Charles shot to his feet, jabbing a finger at me. "You ungrateful—! You were SPYING on your own family?! Margaret, you don't do this here! Not in front of everyone! Get down from there NOW!"

"Family?" I didn't move. "You think you still get to call yourselves that? You used my disability to humiliate me, plotted to rob me blind, and now you want to lecture me about loyalty?"

I turned to Theodore. He was shaking, eyes panicked.

"Margaret, okay, just—just listen to me for a second." His voice cracked. "I was trying to make everyone happy, alright? I DO love you. That whole thing with Isabelle was just to keep her stable — you know how fragile she is. It didn't mean anything, I swear—" He reached for my hand desperately.

A stronger hand knocked his away. Hard.

Sebastian stepped in front of me, staring down at Theodore like he was garbage on the sidewalk.

"Don't touch my wife."

"WIFE?!" Theodore's eyes went huge. He laughed like it was the most insane thing he'd ever heard. "Sebastian, are you out of your MIND? She's MY fiancée!"

I pulled the marriage certificate from the hidden pocket in my dress and threw it in his face. The paper hit his chest and fell to the ground.

"Read it yourself, Theodore." My voice was cold. Controlled. "Two hours ago, Sebastian and I went to City Hall and signed that. We're legally married."

I looked at his face — twisted with shock, rage, disbelief.

"As for you? You're just a con artist who bombed at his own scam."