Riley woke to sunlight filtering through thick silk curtains. For a few seconds, she couldn't quite remember where she was—or what had happened the day before.
She was Riley Grant now.
The clock on the bedside table read 9:00 a.m. She slipped into her slippers and walked to the window, drawing the curtains aside. Central Park stretched out below, glittering under the morning light. It was breathtaking… and suffocating. She felt like a bird in a golden cage.
A soft knock at the door pulled her back to reality.
"Come in," she said.
A young woman stepped inside, carrying a silver tray.
"Good morning, Mrs. Grant," she said with a warm smile. "I'm Anna. I'll be assisting you with your daily needs. This is your breakfast."
Riley looked at the elegant spread: fresh croissants, imported jams, rich coffee, and a single white rose placed delicately on the tray.
"Thank you, Anna," she said. "But usually, I just have coffee."
"Mr. Grant specifically asked that you eat properly," Anna replied. "He said you've been under a lot of stress and need nutrition."
Riley blinked in surprise. Alexander cared enough to worry about her meals?
"Where is he now?" she asked.
"Mr. Grant left for the office at six," Anna replied. "That's his usual schedule."
Riley nodded slowly and began to eat. The food was delicious, but her stomach was too tight to enjoy it. Her mind was already racing ahead to tonight's event.
"Anna," Riley said, "can you tell me more about the gala this evening?"
"Of course, ma'am," Anna replied. "It's the Grant family's annual charity gala. All of New York's business elite will be there. You'll be introduced as Mr. Grant's wife—it's a significant moment for the entire family."
Pressure tightened around Riley's chest. "What do I need to do?"
"The stylist will arrive at two to help with your dress, hair, and makeup," Anna explained. "And Mr. Grant also arranged for an etiquette coach to work with you."
An etiquette coach. Riley couldn't help but wonder if she really needed lessons to pretend to belong here.
After breakfast, she decided to explore the mansion. The house was vast, every hallway lined with priceless art and antiques. The kind of place most people only saw in magazines.
She wandered into a massive library filled with shelves of books from floor to ceiling. She ran her fingers along the spines, recognizing titles she'd read back in college. The scent of old paper calmed her nerves.
"You enjoy reading, ma'am?"
Riley turned to see an older man standing in the doorway, dressed in a tailored suit. He looked like the kind of person who'd been part of the house for decades.
"Yes, very much," she said. "And you are…?"
"I'm Henry, the butler," he replied with a respectful nod. "I've served the Grant family for thirty years."
"Thirty years," Riley repeated. "You must've seen a lot."
Henry's eyes clouded with something unreadable. "Yes, ma'am. This house has many stories."
"Can you tell me something about Alexander?" she asked softly. "I'd like to know more about… my husband."
Henry hesitated. "Mr. Grant is a good man. He may seem cold, but he has a kind heart. It's just… he's been through a great deal."
"What kind of things?"
"That's not my place to say," Henry said gently. "But I hope you'll bring warmth back into this home. It's been cold for far too long."
Before she could ask more, Henry bowed slightly and left. Riley remained in the library, his words echoing in her mind. What had Alexander been through to make him this emotionally guarded?
At exactly 2 p.m., a team of stylists arrived. Riley had never seen so many beauty tools and products in one place. She felt like she was about to be transformed—whether she wanted to be or not.
"Your skin is lovely, ma'am," one of the makeup artists said. "We'll aim for a look that's elegant but not too heavy."
"I'm not used to a lot of makeup," Riley admitted.
"Don't worry," the artist replied. "Mr. Grant gave us specific instructions to highlight your natural beauty."
Of course he did. Riley thought. He seemed to care a lot about this evening.
The makeup process was long and meticulous. Riley tried to relax, but her mind kept drifting to her mother. She pulled out her phone and sent a message:
Mom, I got married today. I'll come visit you soon.
A few minutes later, a reply came:
Sweetheart, I'm so happy for you! Is he a good man?
Riley stared at the message, unsure how to respond. Was Alexander a good man? She wasn't sure yet.
Yes, Mom. He's good.
I can't wait to meet him.
Riley's chest tightened. Her mother would never know the truth about this marriage.
"Ma'am, take a look," the makeup artist said.
Riley glanced in the mirror—and gasped. She barely recognized herself. She looked polished, elegant, like she belonged in high society.
"Time for the dress," the stylist announced.
They helped her into a floor-length navy silk gown paired with dazzling jewelry. The transformation was complete. When she looked in the mirror, she saw Mrs. Grant. Or at least someone who could play the part.
"Perfect," the stylist said. "Mr. Grant will be pleased."
By 6 p.m., she was ready. Riley stood in front of the mirror, taking in the stranger who looked back at her. She looked like she belonged—but she knew it was all an illusion.
"Ma'am, Mr. Grant has returned," Anna said. "He's waiting downstairs."
Riley drew a deep breath and descended the stairs. Alexander stood in the foyer, dressed in a crisp tuxedo. For a split second, when he saw her, something flickered in his eyes.
"You look beautiful," he said, though his voice remained cool.
"Thank you," she replied. "You look handsome."
They studied each other in silence, and Riley felt an odd tension building in the air.
"We should leave," Alexander said. "The car is waiting."
As they walked toward the door, Alexander paused.
"Before we go," he said, "there are a few things you need to remember."
"Such as?"
"You'll meet a lot of people tonight," he said. "They'll be curious about you. Stick to our story: we met at a charity gala, fell in love, and had a whirlwind wedding."
"I've got it," Riley nodded.
"Also," he added, "in public, we need to appear close. That means I may hold your hand… or put my arm around you."
Riley's cheeks flushed. "Understood."
"Just remember, it's all an act," Alexander said. "Don't forget the contract."
Riley nodded, though her heart ached a little. She had to pretend to love him… while being reminded not to feel anything real.
"Let's go," he said.
They walked out to the Rolls-Royce. Alexander opened the door for her, and as she settled into the seat, he reached out and gently took her hand.
"Don't be nervous," he said softly. "You'll do great."
Riley looked down at their joined hands and felt a flicker of warmth. It was their first real touch, unprompted by cameras or witnesses. Just them.
"I'll try my best," she replied.
The car pulled away from the mansion, carrying them toward Riley's first public appearance as Mrs. Alexander Grant.
She didn't know what awaited her.
But one thing was clear—there was no turning back.
She was Alexander Grant's wife now.
At least, to the rest of the world.