Rain tapped gently against the tall windows of the grand ballroom, blurring the city lights beyond. Inside, the air was rich with the scent of perfume, polished wood, and the faint tang of expensive wine. At a corner table, Vivian Harper sat alone, her delicate hand wrapped around the stem of a crystal glass.
She was thirty, a single mother, and this was the third wedding she’d attended that month—none of which she had wanted to go to. Her ex-husband’s absence left a quiet void that the surrounding chatter only seemed to amplify. Whispers floated through the room.
Some voices carried pity; others, open mockery. “She comes alone again,” one woman murmured, her tone sharp with judgment. Vivian lowered her gaze, forcing a polite smile she didn’t feel.
Couples twirled beneath glittering chandeliers, their laughter rippling like champagne. For a moment, she felt invisible—insignificant—a ghost haunting a room full of celebration. Then, a deep voice sliced through the noise.
“Dance with me.”
Startled, Vivian turned toward the speaker. A man stood before her, taller than anyone else in the room, dressed in a dark tailored suit that made him seem almost unreal. His slicked-back hair gleamed under the lights, a thin scar traced his jawline, and his eyes held a sharp intelligence that made the entire ballroom feel smaller.
“I—I don’t even know you,” she stammered, clutching her small purse. “Good,” he replied, his voice low and magnetic. “No one will know you’re pretending to be my wife.”
Before she could respond, he extended his hand.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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