Grace stood in the courthouse bathroom staring at her reflection. The dress was simple white silk, elegant in the way that expensive things are when they're meant to hide rather than celebrate. Her hair had been styled by someone Lauren hired. Her makeup applied by someone else. She looked like a bride. She felt like an imposter.
One week had passed since meeting Sebastian. Seven days of fittings and preparations and being moved around like furniture. The penthouse staff had already unpacked her belongings into a suite on the opposite side of the building from Sebastian's bedroom. She'd slept alone in that suite every night, wondering if he was thinking about today, if he felt anything about marrying someone he'd decided was worthless.
The courthouse was quiet. Official. No decorations, no flowers, no music. Just the hallway with its beige walls and fluorescent lights. This was what her wedding had become. Not a celebration. A transaction in a building where people got divorced and filed lawsuits.
Sebastian was waiting outside the courtroom in a charcoal business suit. He checked his watch when she emerged, a habit she was already learning to recognize. Always counting time. Always thinking about what came next.
"Ready?" he asked.
No. Not ready. Never ready.
"Yes," Grace said.
The judge was young, probably thirty, and she looked bored. She read the vows quickly, not bothering with the traditional ones. Just the legal minimum. Do you take this woman? Do you take this man? Both answered yes. Both were lying.
When the judge said they were married, Sebastian kissed her. It lasted two seconds. His lips were cool, impersonal, exactly what she'd expected from a man who saw her as a problem to solve. The kiss was for the photographer Lauren had hired. Everything about this was for appearances.
Except the appearances were all falling apart.
The reception was held at a restaurant Sebastian owned in Tribeca. Twenty people, mostly lawyers and board members. Grace's family sat together at one table, and she couldn't look at them without feeling sick. Her father was drinking champagne and telling Sebastian's associates about the brilliant investment opportunity. Helena was laughing at something one of them said. Vivian was glowing, wearing Grace's grandmother's engagement ring on her left hand.
It was the same ring Marcus had given to Grace. The same ring Grace had worn for three months. The same ring her father had apparently given to Vivian as a gift after Grace's wedding was cancelled.
Grace excused herself and went to the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall and sat on the toilet with her dress arranged around her like she was a porcelain doll someone had placed there. She didn't cry. She was too numb for that.
When she emerged, Vivian was waiting at the sink.
"Hi," Vivian said, her voice sweet and dangerous. "Congratulations on the wedding."
Grace didn't respond. She turned on the faucet and washed her hands, trying to ignore her stepsister's reflection in the mirror.
"It's funny, isn't it?" Vivian continued, admiring her engagement ring. "A week ago you were supposed to be marrying Marcus. Now I am. And you're marrying someone you just met. Life is so unpredictable."
Grace's hands shook under the water.
"I wanted to tell you something," Vivian said, stepping closer. "You were always going to end up alone. That's just who you are. Dad could see it. Marcus could see it. Even Sebastian can see it. You're the kind of person people use when they need something, and then they leave."
Grace looked at her stepsister in the mirror. Vivian was beautiful and cruel and exactly what a woman became when nobody ever told her no. Grace understood, in that moment, that Vivian wasn't actually happy. She was just better at pretending.
"Congratulations," Grace said, turning off the water. "I hope you're very happy together."
She left Vivian at the sink and returned to the reception. Sebastian was talking to one of his lawyers, barely acknowledging her when she sat down. That's when she realized something. Sebastian would never love her. But that also meant he would never hate her. He would never care enough to hate her. She was simply a piece of the arrangement.
Her father stood to make a toast.
"To new beginnings," he said, raising his glass. The words hit Grace like a physical blow. New beginnings. As if the old beginning had never happened. As if he hadn't sold his daughter to save his company. As if the fact that Grace was sitting at this table in a white dress marrying a stranger was nothing more than a plot point in the story of Reed Industries' survival.
Everyone clinked glasses. Sebastian's hand briefly touched Grace's back, a gesture that meant nothing and cost him nothing.
By seven o'clock, the reception was over. The lawyers left. The board members drifted away. Grace's family lingered, as if waiting for something. Her father approached Sebastian to shake his hand.
"Thank you," Jonathan said, "for taking care of Grace. I know it's a business arrangement, but we're grateful."
Taking care of Grace. Like she was a pet. Like she was something that required maintenance.
"Of course," Sebastian said, and his voice was the same as it had been when dismissing her from his office. Professional. Empty. Kind in the way that knives are kind when they're sharp.
In the car, Sebastian checked his phone and didn't speak to her. Grace stared out the window at Manhattan passing by. Somewhere out there, Vivian was probably with Marcus. Somewhere out there, her father was probably planning the next business deal. And she was in a car with the man she'd just married, and he was checking his emails.
The penthouse was exactly as cold as she remembered. Sebastian gestured toward the hallway that led to her suite.
"We'll go to the penthouse now," he said. "Pack light. Everything you need is already there."
Grace nodded. She understood what he meant. Don't bring anything from your old life. Don't try to make this place feel like home. Don't expect anything beyond the contract.
"I have calls to make," Sebastian continued, already turning away. "You'll find dinner in the kitchen. My chef prepares something every evening. Help yourself."
He disappeared into his office, closing the door softly behind him.
Grace stood alone in the living room of her new home in her wedding dress. She could still feel Sebastian's cold lips on hers. She could still see the way Vivian had smiled wearing her grandmother's ring. She could still hear her father's words: "Thank you for taking care of Grace."
She pulled out her phone to text Lily, then stopped. What would she even say? That she'd married a stranger in a courthouse? That her own family had watched her do it without objection? That she was alone in a penthouse with a man who checked his watch instead of looking at her?
The dress suddenly felt suffocating. Grace pulled it off and stood in the middle of the living room in her slip and heels. Through the office door, she could hear Sebastian on a conference call, his voice clipped and professional. He was already moving on to the next thing. He was already done thinking about their wedding.
She walked to the kitchen. There was indeed a plate of food waiting. Pasta with truffle oil. His assistant Lauren had probably selected it. Everything in this penthouse had been selected by someone who wasn't her. Even her own life had been arranged by other people.
Grace threw the food away. She couldn't eat. She could barely breathe.
In her suite, she found that her childhood bedroom had somehow been recreated. Her books on the shelves. Her pictures on the walls. Some of her furniture. It was meant to be comforting. It was the cruelest thing anyone had done to her yet, because it meant someone had cared enough to make her comfortable while making it clear that she was still, ultimately, disposable.
Grace lay down on the bed in her wedding-day slip and stared at the ceiling.
Through the walls, she could hear Sebastian on another call. Something about quarterly earnings and shareholder meetings. The sound of his voice—professional, assured, completely unaware that somewhere in this same building, his new wife was disappearing into herself one breath at a time.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Lauren: "Mr. Sterling has a business dinner tomorrow at 7 PM. He'll require you to attend. I'll send the dress and details by morning."
Already. Already they were moving on to the next appearance. Already she was being prepared for the next photograph.
Grace set her phone down and curled into herself. She'd made it through the wedding day. Three hundred sixty-four days left.
She could survive anything for one year.
She had to.
But as she lay there listening to her husband talk about money and power and things that had nothing to do with her, Grace realized something that terrified her. She would survive the year. She would get the five hundred thousand dollars. She would walk away and rebuild her life.
But she would leave pieces of herself in this penthouse. In the spaces between Sebastian's words. In the echoes of his indifference. And she would spend the rest of her life trying to figure out which pieces those were and if she'd ever be able to put herself back together again.