I woke up to seventeen missed calls and a woman sitting in my living room.
She was perched on my couch like she owned it, perfectly composed in a charcoal suit that is probably much more expensive. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek bun, and she was typing rapidly on a tablet, completely unbothered by the fact that she'd broken into my apartment.
"What the hell?" I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, ready to call 911.
"Please don't." She didn't even look up. "I'm Elena Ruiz, Mr. Cross's attorney. He sent me to handle the arrangements."
"By breaking into my home?"
"The doorman let me in. Mr. Cross owns the building." She finally looked at me, her expression coolly professional. "You have coffee, by the way, I made a fresh pot, you'll need it."
I stumbled out of my bedroom, still in my pajamas, and found the coffee she mentioned. The woman had made herself completely at home, laptop open on my dining table, multiple folders spread out, her briefcase propped against my chair.
"This is insane," I muttered, pouring coffee with shaking hands.
"This is efficient." Elena gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit, we have forty-eight hours to plan a wedding that will convince all of New York society that you and Mr. Cross are madly in love."
"Forty-eight hours? The contract said…"
"The contract said you agreed to marry him, it didn't specify a timeline." She slid a folder toward me. "The Times is running the story about your father in three hours. By noon, every media outlet in the city will be covering the Ashford family's financial collapse. We need to control the narrative before it spirals."
I opened the folder and immediately regretted it. Inside were mock-ups of engagement announcements, venue options, even a selection of wedding dresses. Everything was already planned.
"We're announcing the engagement today?" My voice came out higher than intended.
"At two pm, Press conference at the Cross Enterprises building." Elena pulled up a document on her tablet. "You'll wear this dress, elegant, but not too formal and you'll also stand beside Mr. Cross, holding his hand.
When asked about the timeline, you'll say you've been seeing each other privately for six months and decided not to wait."
"That's a lie."
"That's a story." She met my eyes, and for the first time, I saw something almost sympathetic there. "Miss Ashford, I've been Mr. Cross's attorney for eight years, I've negotiated billion-dollar deals and hostile takeovers. This is, by far, the strangest arrangement I've ever been asked to facilitate, but it's also legally binding, you signed the contract."
"I know what I signed."
"Then you know there's no way out, not for two years." She tapped her tablet, and a document appeared on screen. "I had my team review every clause last night. It's ironclad, if you try to break the contract, your family loses everything, the debt protection, the security detail, all of it.
And Mr. Cross has the right to pursue financial damages that would bankrupt whatever's left of the Ashford estate."
The coffee turned bitter in my mouth. "He really thought of everything."
"Mr. Cross always does." Elena closed her tablet. "Now, let's discuss the wedding itself. Saturday at the Metropolitan Club and intimate ceremony, immediate family only. Mr. Cross has already arranged for your parents and sister to attend."
"You told my family?"
"Mr. Cross informed your father this morning. He was... receptive to the news."
Of course he was, dad would sell me to the devil himself if it meant saving the family name. And in a way, that's exactly what was happening.
"What about afterward? Where am I supposed to live?"
"Mr. Cross's penthouse, your belongings are being moved as we speak."
"Excuse me?" I stood so fast my chair scraped against the floor. "You're moving my things without asking?"
"The contract specifies you'll reside together as husband and wife. Mr. Cross assumed you'd prefer not to waste time with logistics." Elena's expression didn't change. "If you have specific items you want personally packed, I can arrange…"
"I want to do it myself."
"That's not possible. The movers are already…"
"I don't care what the movers are doing. Those are my things." I grabbed my phone. "I'm calling Damien."
"Mr. Cross is in meetings until this afternoon."
"Then interrupt him."
Elena studied me for a long moment, then picked up her own phone. She spoke quietly into it, then handed it to me. "You have two minutes."
I snatched the phone. Damien's voice came through, sharp and impatient. "What's wrong?"
"Everything! Your lawyer is in my apartment, telling me my whole life is being packed up without my permission. We had a deal, partners, remember?"
"The contract specifies…"
"I don't care what the contract specifies, you can't just bulldoze through my life like I'm another business acquisition." My voice was rising, but I didn't care. "If this marriage is going to work, even as a fake one, you need to treat me like a person, not property."
Silence, I could hear voices in the background, someone asking him a question.
"Fine." His tone shifted slightly. "Tell Elena to send the movers home, pack what you want, but everything needs to be moved by tomorrow night."
"And I want to review every single arrangement before it's finalized, the dress, venue and the announcement."
Another pause. "You're stalling."
"I'm establishing boundaries."
"We don't have time for boundaries."
"Then make time." I caught Elena watching me with what might have been approval. "Two minutes ago you told me I had spine, either you meant it or you didn't."
I heard him exhale, sharp and frustrated. "Put Elena back on."
I handed the phone back, Elena listened, said "Yes, sir" three times, then hung up.
"Mr. Cross agrees to your terms. You'll review all arrangements. But the press conference is still at two pm, and the wedding is still Saturday, those are non-negotiable."
"Fine."
"And Miss Ashford?" Elena began packing up her folders. "A word of advice, choose your battles carefully, Mr. Cross doesn't lose often, when he compromises, he expects something in return."
"What does he want in return for this?"
"I suspect you'll find out soon enough." She handed me a garment bag. "This is the dress for the press conference, try it on. A stylist will be here at noon."
After Elena left, I sat alone in my apartment, surrounded by the evidence of a life that was about to disappear. In forty-eight hours, I'd be married to a man I barely knew, I'd become Sophia Cross.
My phone buzzed, a text from an unknown number.
*Phoenix:" Everything okay? You vanished last night.
I stared at the message, then typed: "Everything's changing, fast, I might not be around as much."
"Phoenix:" The marriage thing?
"Nightingale:" Yeah, I feel like I'm drowning.
"Phoenix:" Then learn to breathe underwater, two years isn't forever, you'll survive this.
I set the phone down and looked at the garment bag. Inside was a dress the color of midnight, elegant and expensive and completely not me.
But it was the dress Sophia Cross would wear.
My phone rang, dad's number, I let it go to voicemail.
Whatever he wanted to say, I wasn't ready to hear it.
End of Chapter Eleven.