The church smelled like roses and secrets. Gold light filtered through the stained glass, scattering over the aisle where Lily Monroe stood — trembling in a gown worth more than her entire apartment building.
Today, she was supposed to become Mrs. Adrian Knight — heir to Knight Enterprises, her father's business partner, and the man who promised to erase her family's debts. A contract marriage, nothing more.
She told herself that as she took each slow step down the aisle.
Just one year, Lily. One year and you'll be free.
But when she reached the altar, her heart skipped. The man waiting there wasn't Adrian.
The tuxedo was the same, the height almost perfect — but the eyes. Those eyes were darker, colder, sharper. And the way he watched her… it wasn't the polite distance of a businessman. It was hunger.
"Where's Adrian?" she whispered under her breath, panic curling through her voice.
The man's lips twitched, almost in amusement. "Running late," he murmured, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "But the family can't afford a scene, can they?"
Before she could ask what that meant, the priest began the vows. Cameras flashed. The guests smiled.
Lily's world blurred. She wanted to stop it, to ask questions — but her father's hopeful eyes in the front row made her freeze. So she said the words.
"I do."
When the man leaned down to kiss her, her mind screamed that something was wrong — but her body betrayed her. His lips brushed hers, slow and deliberate, sending a heat she didn't expect straight to her chest.
The crowd applauded. The wrong man smiled against her lips.
And for the first time, Lily wondered if she'd just signed a deal with the devil himself.
As the crowd's applause faded, Lily's gaze drifted away from the man beside her, taking in the opulent surroundings. The reception glittered like a scene ripped out of a luxury magazine, with crystal chandeliers dripping light across champagne glasses and designer gowns. Laughter filled the hall—everyone celebrating a marriage built on the wrong name.
Lily sat beside her new husband, smiling for the cameras that never stopped flashing. Every time she glanced at him, her stomach twisted. He played the part perfectly, greeting investors, charming the guests, even whispering small jokes that made people around them laugh. Only she noticed the steel behind his smile.
When the photographers finally left, she leaned close.
"Who are you?" she hissed.
He didn't even look at her. "You'll find out soon enough, Mrs. Knight."
The way he said Mrs. Knight made her shiver. It wasn't Adrian's smooth tone—it was colder, possessive. Something about him told her he wasn't pretending to be anyone. He belonged in this world of power and secrets, maybe even more than Adrian ever did.
Hours later, after the last toast, the limousine door clicked shut behind them. The air inside was thick with the scent of his cologne—woody, expensive, dizzying.
She tried again. "Why didn't you stop the wedding? Where's Adrian?"
He turned to her at last, his gaze pinning her in place. "Because Adrian ran. And someone had to clean up his mess."
Her pulse jumped. "So you're—"
"Ethan," he interrupted smoothly. "Ethan Knight. His elder brother."
The name hit her like a slap. Ethan—the one Adrian never talked about, the one rumored to be ruthless enough to make grown men beg. The family's shadow.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Ethan Knight," he said quietly, eyes glinting with something she couldn't name. "You just married the wrong groom".
As he spoke, the room around them began to dissolve, the laughter and music fading into the distance. Before she could process his words, Ethan took her hand, his grip firm as he led her out of the reception hall. They drove through the night, the city lights blurring together until they finally arrived at the mansion. It loomed like something out of a gothic painting—tall windows, black stone, and silence thick enough to hear her heartbeat. As the car pulled up the drive, Lily's nerves finally snapped.
"This isn't where Adrian lived," she said, her voice thin.
Ethan stepped out first, unbuttoning his jacket, the gesture lazy but commanding. "Adrian doesn't live anywhere right now," he replied. "He disappeared before the ceremony. Congratulations again—you saved the family from scandal.
"Scandal?" she repeated, following him up the marble steps. "By replacing him without telling me?"
He glanced back, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Would you have said 'I do' if you'd known?"
She bit her lip, fury sparking. "Of course not!"
"Exactly." He pushed the front doors open, and the house swallowed them whole.
Inside, the air was warm but heavy. She trailed behind him through a hall lined with portraits of powerful, unsmiling men. Everything about this place screamed control.
He turned suddenly, closing the space between them until she could feel the heat of his body. "Let's get something clear, Mrs. Knight. You wear my ring now. You'll keep up appearances. The media believes we're in love, and I intend to keep it that way."
Her breath caught. "You can't force me—"
"I don't have to." His gaze dropped to her lips for a split second before he turned away. "You signed the contract, remember? It never said which Knight."
Her heart thudded painfully. He was infuriating, arrogant… and dangerously magnetic.
As he walked up the stairs, she whispered under her breath, "You may be the wrong groom, Ethan Knight, but you're the biggest mistake I've ever made."
He paused on the landing, half-turning with a faint smirk. "We'll see about that."
The room Ethan led her to was beautiful—too beautiful for what she felt inside. Gold-trimmed walls, silk curtains that danced in the breeze, and a bed big enough to swallow her whole.
"This will be your room," he said flatly, stopping by the door. "Mine's down the hall. For the sake of appearances, we'll share one when people visit."
Lily crossed her arms. "So I'm your pretend wife now?"
He met her gaze without flinching. "You were always supposed to be a pretend wife, weren't you?"
The words stung because they were true. The contract she'd signed had nothing to do with love—it was business. But at least with Adrian, she'd expected kindness. With Ethan, she felt like prey trapped with a predator.
As he turned to leave, she asked the question that had been burning in her chest since the ceremony.
"Why did Adrian run?"
He hesitated. Just for a second—but she saw it. A flicker of emotion he tried to hide.
"That's none of your concern," he said finally, his voice lower now. "Focus on playing your part."
Her anger boiled. "He was my fiancé! Don't tell me it's none of my concern!"
Ethan stepped closer again, so close that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "Adrian isn't who you think he is," he said quietly. "And if you were smart, you'd stop asking questions before you regret the answers."
Her breath hitched.
"What are you hiding?"
He leaned in just enough for his breath to brush her ear. "Go to sleep, Mrs. Knight. You'll need your strength."
Then he left, closing the door behind him with a soft click that sounded more like a warning than a goodnight.
Lily sank onto the bed, the silence pressing in around her. Somewhere in this house lay the truth about her missing groom—and the brother who'd taken his place.
And as much as she hated to admit it, she couldn't decide which of them scared her more.
The rain came without warning, a soft hiss against the tall windows of the Knight mansion. Lily lay on the edge of the enormous bed, eyes open, heart pounding. Sleep refused to come. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the cold glint in Ethan's eyes and heard his warning: Stop asking questions before you regret the answers.
She sat up, wrapping her arms around herself. The room was beautiful but suffocating—gold-trimmed walls, silk sheets, a single locked drawer in the desk that felt like a secret daring her to open it.
Her throat was dry. She slipped on her slippers and padded out into the hall for water. That was when she heard it: Ethan's voice, low and sharp, drifting from behind the half-open door of his study.
"If the press finds out Adrian's in Morocco, this marriage means nothing."
"I told you—she mustn't know."
Lily froze. Morocco? Her heart thudded so loudly she feared he'd hear it. She edged closer, pressing her back to the wall, straining to catch every word.
"Clean up the rest of it," Ethan's voice snapped. "No leaks. Not now."
She shifted her weight and her elbow brushed a small table. A porcelain vase wobbled and fell with a soft clink. Her breath caught.
Silence.
The voice inside stopped.
Footsteps approached the door.
Panic surged through her. She ducked behind a marble pillar just as the study door opened. Ethan stepped out, his face unreadable, phone still in his hand. For a heartbeat she thought his gaze flicked straight to her hiding place, but then he walked past, the click of his shoes fading up the stairs.
She exhaled shakily. Her hands trembled as she crept into the study. The room smelled of leather and cedar. On the desk lay scattered papers—and a framed photograph.
She picked it up. Two men: Adrian and Ethan, side by side, smiling for the camera. In the corner someone had scribbled a date in red ink—the day Adrian disappeared.
Her stomach turned. "Morocco…" she whispered. "What have I married into?"
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and somewhere in the house a door closed softly, as if the mansion itself was keeping secrets.
Lily set the photo down, a chill running down her spine. She had married the wrong groom… and she was only beginning to understand how dangerous that mistake was.