Chapter 6: Preparation

Evelyn stood in front of the full-length mirror, her breath catching slightly as she took in her reflection. The soft, ambient light from the chandelier above bathed the room in a golden hue, casting a faint shimmer across the pale blue gown she wore. The dress clung to her body like it had been sewn from moonlight itself—elegant, sculpted, and utterly captivating. The bodice hugged her slender frame, the off-shoulder neckline baring her collarbones with just the right touch of vulnerability and poise. Tiny crystal embellishments dusted the fabric like stars scattered across a twilight sky, catching the light with every subtle movement.

The skirt flowed down in silky waves, pooling slightly at her feet like the tide itself had obeyed her. She looked regal. Distant. Untouchable. And yet, underneath all that beauty and grace, she was trembling—not visibly, but deep within.

Her chestnut-brown hair had been curled into soft waves that cascaded down her back, the ends brushing just above her waist. A few tendrils framed her face, perfectly sculpted by the stylists to soften the edges of her sharp cheekbones and the line of her jaw. Her makeup was immaculate, highlighting her hazel eyes that were now caught between unease and steel-willed resolve. The woman in the mirror no longer looked like Evelyn Carter—the overworked secretary who once color-coded her boss’s meetings and ran errands unnoticed. No. That woman had vanished.

There were days—weeks, even—when she barely had time to eat. As his personal secretary, Evelyn had been a ghost behind the scenes. The girl with the clipboard, the quick fingers, the calm voice that kept chaos at bay. She memorized his travel itineraries, filtered through his calls, arranged his boardroom lunches down to his preferred mineral water, and even reminded him when to send his mother birthday flowers.

He never thanked her. Not sincerely.

Back then, he’d barely looked at her unless he was issuing a new demand.

And yet… somewhere along the line, she had become something else. Something more. A deal forged behind closed doors, a merger of names and convenience, and now—tonight—Evelyn Carter was no more.

Tonight, she was Evelyn Lancaster. His wife. The newly crowned queen beside a king she did not love.

This gala was more than a celebration. It was a performance—a carefully orchestrated illusion to convince the world that she belonged by Damian Lancaster’s side. And to survive the night, she had to believe it herself.

A sudden knock at the door pulled her sharply from her thoughts.

The door opened smoothly, revealing Damian standing there in silence, his gaze piercing through the distance between them. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored—sharp lapels, sleek lines, an unyielding contrast of black and white that mirrored the man himself. Broad-shouldered and poised like a sculpted god, he looked every inch the powerful CEO the world feared and admired.

His eyes—icy, discerning blue—met hers through the mirror. For a moment, they simply stared. She couldn’t read him. She never could.

He took a step forward, his shoes silent against the marble floor. A flicker of something—surprise? Appreciation?—passed through his eyes before he allowed a faint smirk to curl at his lips.

"You look better than expected," he said, his voice low and smooth like aged whiskey. The words were teasing, but beneath them, something unspoken lingered. Something that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

Evelyn let out a dry scoff and crossed her arms. "And here I was bracing for something insufferable."

Damian chuckled, the sound deep and warm, though his expression remained unreadable. "I'm full of surprises, Mrs. Lancaster."

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t remind me.”

As she turned slightly, he stepped closer, his presence enveloping the space around her. He reached for something on the dresser—a slim, silver bracelet encrusted with diamonds. Without a word, he took her wrist gently, the cool metal of the bracelet a stark contrast to the heat of his fingers as they brushed against her pulse.

Her breath hitched despite herself.

"You’ll need to get used to being at my side," he said, fastening the clasp with practiced ease. "Every eye will be on us tonight. You play your part, and I’ll play mine."

The way he said it made her stomach twist. Not cruel. Not kind. Just… inevitable.

She looked down at the bracelet, then up at him, her expression guarded. "And when the curtain falls? What happens then?"

His gaze lingered on her face, silent for a heartbeat too long. "That depends on how well we perform."

Evelyn drew in a quiet breath, then slowly withdrew her wrist from his grasp. “Let’s get this over with.”

Damian said nothing, but his eyes didn’t leave her. After a pause, he extended his hand. "Shall we?"

For a split second, she hesitated—then slipped her hand into his. Their fingers met, and she felt an unexpected warmth blossom where they touched. It startled her, but she said nothing.

Hand in hand, they descended the grand staircase like two pieces in a royal tableau. Below them, the household staff stood at quiet attention, and beyond the doors, the sleek black limousine waited with its headlights casting long shadows across the gravel driveway.

As the butler opened the front doors and the cool evening breeze swept inside, Evelyn glanced up at her husband.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t offer empty reassurances.

But his fingers squeezed hers, just briefly.

A silent pact.

Outside, the cameras would be flashing. The world would be watching. And Evelyn, now Evelyn Lancaster, would have to pretend that the man holding her hand was not the stranger she barely trusted—but her husband.

And that this life, this marriage, this dazzling lie, was hers by choice.

.