The courthouse smelled like old carpet and disappointment.
Grace stood in the bathroom stall of City Hall, wearing a white dress she'd bought at a discount store two days ago. It wasn't a wedding dress. It was just white. The kind of thing you wore when you wanted to look appropriate but not like you believed in fairy tales.
She couldn't afford to believe in fairy tales anymore.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Victoria: Mom's already crying. This is going to be awkward as hell. Hurry up.
Grace looked at herself in the mirror. She'd done her own makeup. She'd twisted her hair into a style that took forty minutes but looked effortless. She'd spent two hours choosing between three pairs of white heels, picking the ones that hurt the least because she'd be standing for hours waiting for a man to look at her the way he'd looked at Charlotte.
He wouldn't. She knew he wouldn't.
But Clara had been right about one thing. Proximity changes things.
She had one year to make Ethan Sterling see her. One year in his house, in his life, wearing Charlotte's ring. One year to become someone he couldn't ignore.
Grace stepped out of the bathroom.
The judge's office was small. Only family. Ethan's mother Catherine sat in the front row, her face arranged in the expression people wore at funerals. His sister Sophia looked confused, like she wasn't sure if she should be happy or sad or angry. Grandmother Clara sat quietly, giving Grace a small nod that meant she was doing fine.
Ethan stood at the front in a suit Grace recognized immediately. The same suit he'd worn three days ago. The suit he'd bought for Charlotte. The fabric was expensive. The cut was perfect. But the collar was slightly wrinkled because he'd worn it once and thrown it in a chair.
He'd worn it for Charlotte. Now he was wearing it for her.
The judge began speaking about marriage and commitment and the legal binding of two people into one contract. Grace barely heard him. Her entire body was focused on Ethan, on the way he stood like he was in a meeting he wanted to escape. On the way his jaw was tight. On the way he wasn't looking at her.
When the judge asked if he took this woman to be his wife, Ethan paused so long the silence became a presence in the room.
"I do," he finally said. The words came out like someone else had written them.
When it was Grace's turn, her voice was steady. "I do."
At least one of them meant it.
"You may kiss the bride," the judge announced.
Ethan turned to her. Their eyes met for what felt like the first time that day. Grace saw panic in his. Fear. Guilt. And something else that looked like pity.
He leaned forward. Grace closed her eyes, hoping for something, anything. A moment where he might feel what she felt. Where the proximity Clara promised might spark something real.
His lips touched her cheek.
Just her cheek. Not her mouth. Not even close to her mouth.
It was the most honest thing he could have done. It said everything without words. This wasn't a real kiss. This wasn't a real marriage. This was a transaction, and they both knew it.
Catherine made a sound that might have been a sob. "Charlotte should be here," she whispered.
Grace's eyes opened just in time to see Ethan flinch at his mother's words. At the mention of Charlotte on his wedding day. At the reminder that he'd married the wrong woman.
She'd always be the wrong woman.
The apartment was too quiet.
That's what Grace noticed first when they arrived at Ethan's penthouse that night. No music. No sounds of life. Just the hum of expensive air conditioning and the echo of their footsteps on marble floors.
Ethan set down his keys and loosened his tie.
"I need to show you the space," he said. Not to her really. Just words he was required to say. "Master bedroom is upstairs. You can take the guest room on this floor. The kitchen is through here. Help yourself to whatever you need."
"Okay," Grace said.
"We'll need to appear together at family events. My mother already knows about the arrangement. She thinks you're doing this for the money, and frankly, I think she's right." He wasn't being cruel. He was just stating facts. "When we're in public, we act like a married couple. When we're not, we don't have to pretend."
Grace had known this would be the arrangement. Clara had explained it. But hearing him say it made it real in a way the contract hadn't.
"And Charlotte?" she asked quietly. "What about her?"
Something flickered across Ethan's face. "Charlotte is gone. She made her choice. I'm making mine now. This marriage will give my grandmother peace before she dies. That's all that matters."
But it wasn't all that mattered to him. Grace could see it in the way his jaw tightened when he said Charlotte's name. In the way his hands clenched into fists.
He was still in love with her.
"The guest room is down the hall," Ethan continued, already walking away. "There are fresh linens in the closet. Let me know if you need anything."
Grace stood alone in the living room, still wearing the white dress, still wearing Charlotte's ring.
She walked to the guest room. The bed was made with hospital corners. The closet was empty. The bathroom had generic soap and plastic cups. Everything about it screamed temporary.
She unpacked her suitcase slowly. Hung up the few clothes she'd brought. Lined up her toiletries on the bathroom counter. She was nesting in a room that wasn't hers in a marriage that wasn't real.
But then she did something that surprised herself.
She left the wedding dress on the bed instead of hanging it up. She left her shoes on the floor instead of putting them away. She left her makeup bag open on the counter instead of organizing it.
Small acts of claiming space. Small acts of refusing to disappear completely.
She could hear Ethan moving around in the master bedroom upstairs. Water running in the shower. The routine sounds of someone trying to wash away the day.
Grace lay in the guest room bed, still wearing the white dress because taking it off felt like surrendering, and stared at the ceiling.
One year. She could do one year.
By the end of one year, either Ethan would see her or she would stop waiting to be seen.
There was no third option.
But then, at 2 AM, when she was almost asleep, she heard her phone light up. A phone call, the sound muffled from his room but unmistakable. She could hear Ethan answer.
His voice was different. Softer. Like he'd been waiting for this call.
"Hello?"
Silence. Then his response made her blood go cold.
"Where are you?"
Another pause.
"I miss you too."
Grace pulled the pillow over her head, but she couldn't block out the next words.
"No. She doesn't matter. You're the only one who's ever mattered."