Natalie's POV
My wedding day starts with a panic attack.
I wake up at 5 AM in Dominic's guest room—the one I moved into last night—and suddenly I can't breathe. My chest is tight. My heart is racing. The room spins.
I'm getting married in five hours.
To Dominic Ashford.
The man who hates me.
I stumble to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. My reflection stares back—pale, terrified, nothing like a blushing bride.
This isn't a wedding. It's a business transaction.
But my body doesn't seem to know the difference.
A knock on the door. "Miss Hartley? It's Victoria. I'm coming in."
She enters before I can respond, carrying a garment bag and a makeup case.
"You look terrible," she says bluntly. "Good thing I'm a miracle worker."
"I don't think I can do this."
"You can and you will." She unzips the garment bag, revealing a wedding dress that makes my breath catch.
It's beautiful. Simple ivory silk, elegant lines, the kind of dress that whispers "old money" instead of screaming "fairy tale." Exactly the kind of dress a woman would wear to marry a billionaire at City Hall.
"Mr. Ashford chose it himself," Victoria says.
That surprises me. "He chose my wedding dress?"
"He has opinions about everything." She starts setting up her makeup supplies. "Now sit. We have two hours to make you look like a woman in love."
The transformation takes longer than I expected. Hair swept into an elegant updo. Makeup that's natural but glowing. The dress fits perfectly, hugging my curves in a way that's sophisticated rather than sexy.
When Victoria finishes, I don't recognize myself.
I look like someone who belongs in Dominic's world.
I look like Mrs. Ashford.
"Perfect," Victoria says. "The car leaves in twenty minutes."
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
This is really happening.
City Hall is quieter than I expected.
Dominic is already there when I arrive, standing with a man I don't recognize—tall, built, with the kind of stance that screams military background.
"That's Marcus," Victoria murmurs. "Mr. Ashford's best friend and COO. He'll be one of our witnesses."
Dominic turns as I approach, and for just a second, something flashes in his eyes.
Surprise? Appreciation?
Then his mask slams back into place.
"Miss Hartley. You look... appropriate."
Appropriate. Not beautiful. Not stunning. Appropriate.
I force a smile. "Thank you. You look appropriate too."
Marcus coughs, and I swear I see him hiding a smile.
Dominic's jaw tightens. "Shall we?"
The ceremony room is small and bureaucratic. A judge stands behind a desk, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.
This is nothing like the wedding I used to dream about. No flowers. No music. No guests crying happy tears.
Just a transaction being legally filed.
"Mr. Ashford. Miss Hartley." The judge gestures us forward. "Let's begin."
I stand next to Dominic, and he takes my hand. His grip is firm. Cold.
"Do you, Dominic Ashford, take Natalie Hartley to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." His voice is steady. Like he's signing a merger agreement, not making a life commitment.
"And do you, Natalie Hartley, take Dominic Ashford to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
This is it. My last chance to run.
I think of Dad in his hospital bed. Of the bills marked "paid." Of the ten million dollars waiting at the end of this year.
"I do."
The words come out stronger than I expected.
"Then by the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The judge closes her book. "You may kiss the bride."
Oh god. I didn't think about this part.
Dominic's hand cups my face, tilting it up toward his.
His eyes meet mine, and I see a warning there: Make it believable.
Then he kisses me.
It's not passionate. Not tender. It's controlled and measured and exactly what a man like Dominic Ashford would do—show enough affection to look real, but not enough to mean anything.
But his lips are warm. And for just a second, I forget to breathe.
He pulls back, and his expression is unreadable.
"Welcome to your cage, Mrs. Ashford," he murmurs, so quietly only I can hear.
The words from the hotel. But now they're real.
I just married my enemy.
Victoria and Marcus witness the paperwork. Signatures are exchanged. And just like that, I'm legally bound to Dominic for the next year.
"Congratulations," Marcus says, shaking my hand. His grip is warm, and there's something kind in his eyes. "Welcome to the family."
"Thank you," I manage.
"The car is waiting," Victoria says. "The reception starts in an hour."
Right. The strategic celebration Dominic planned.
I follow them outside, and a crowd of photographers explodes into action.
"Mr. Ashford! Over here!"
"Is it true you got married?"
"Who's the bride?"
Dominic's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me close. "Smile," he murmurs against my ear. "Look happy."
I paste on the biggest smile I can manage.
The cameras flash like lightning, capturing this moment forever.
Chicago's most eligible bachelor, married to the daughter of the man he spent eight years destroying.
The headlines will be brutal.
"That's enough," Dominic says to the press, his voice commanding. "We'd like privacy during this special time."
He ushers me into the car, and the moment the door closes, he releases me like I burned him.
"Well done," he says coldly. "That looked convincing."
"So did your kiss."
His eyes flash. "Don't read anything into it. That was for the cameras."
"I know. Everything with you is for the cameras, isn't it?"
"Everything is calculated." He pulls out his phone, already moving on. "The guests will arrive at the penthouse in forty-five minutes. You'll meet them, charm them, and convince them we're madly in love."
"Who are these people?"
"Board members. Major investors. People who need to believe this marriage is real for my position to be secure."
The car glides through Chicago traffic, and I stare out the window at the city I used to know.
Everything looks the same.
But I'm completely different.
I'm Mrs. Ashford now.
The penthouse is transformed when we arrive.
Staff I didn't know Dominic had are setting up tables, arranging flowers, preparing food. Classical music plays softly. It looks like a wedding reception should look.
Except the bride and groom can't stand each other.
"Your ring." Dominic pulls a small box from his pocket.
Inside is the ring I saw in his hand at City Hall—a massive diamond on a platinum band. The kind of ring that screams "billionaire's wife."
He slides it onto my finger without ceremony. It's cold and heavy and foreign.
"The guests will expect to see it," he says.
"Of course. Can't have anyone thinking you're cheap."
His jaw clenches. "Careful, Natalie. Your bitterness is showing."
"My bitterness? You just forced me into a marriage I didn't want—"
"I forced nothing. You signed the contract willingly."
"Because you gave me no choice!"
"There's always a choice." His eyes are cold. "You chose your father's life over your pride. Don't blame me for that."
The words cut deep because they're true.
The doorbell rings.
"Showtime," Dominic says. "Remember—we're in love. Try to look like you don't hate me."
The first guests arrive, and I slip into the role I've agreed to play.
Meet them. Smile. Laugh at their jokes. Act like the luckiest woman in Chicago because I married Dominic Ashford.
It's exhausting.
"So how did you two meet?" a woman in diamonds asks, her eyes sharp with suspicion.
"A charity event three months ago," I say, reciting the story Dominic created. "I was representing my father's foundation. Dominic and I started talking about pharmaceutical research, and I was immediately struck by his passion and intelligence."
"And you fell in love just like that?"
"Not immediately," Dominic says smoothly, appearing at my side with champagne. "But Natalie is... persistent. She convinced me to have dinner. Then another. Before I knew it, I couldn't imagine my life without her."
The lie sounds so convincing I almost believe it.
The woman smiles, but her eyes are still suspicious. "How romantic. And the timing—just before your thirty-second birthday—that's quite convenient."
"The heart doesn't operate on schedules," Dominic says coolly. "When you meet the right person, you know."
His hand settles on my lower back, possessive and cold through the silk of my dress.
I lean into him, playing my part. "I'm the lucky one. Dominic could have had anyone."
"But he chose you." The woman's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "How... interesting."
She moves away, and I can hear her immediately whispering to another guest.
"They don't believe us," I murmur to Dominic.
"Some of them don't. That's why we need to be convincing." His hand tightens on my waist. "Dance with me."
"What?"
"The DJ is about to play our first dance. Act like you want to."
He leads me to the center of the room as music swells—something slow and romantic that makes my chest ache.
Dominic pulls me into his arms, one hand on my waist, the other holding mine.
We move together, and I hate how perfectly we fit.
"You're a good actress," he murmurs.
"So are you."
"I've had practice. My whole life has been a performance."
There's something sad in his voice. Something real beneath the ice.
"What was she like?" I ask quietly. "Your sister."
He goes rigid. "That's not part of the contract."
"I'm not asking as your wife. I'm asking as someone who wants to understand."
For a long moment, he doesn't answer. Then: "Emily was everything good I'm not. Kind. Trusting. She believed in people." His voice drops. "And that belief got her killed."
"By my father's company."
"Yes." His eyes meet mine, and the pain there is raw. "So don't expect me to forget. Don't expect me to forgive. I'm keeping my end of the contract, but that's all this is. Business. Nothing more."
"I understand."
"Do you?" His hand tightens on my waist. "Because you keep looking at me like you're trying to find something human underneath. Let me save you the effort—there's nothing there. Emily's death killed everything soft in me."
The music swells, and we turn in a slow circle.
"I don't believe that," I say.
"Then you're a fool."
"Maybe. But I've been called worse."
Something flashes in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or respect.
The song ends. He releases me immediately, stepping back like I burned him.
"Mingle," he orders. "Convince them this is real."
He walks away, leaving me standing alone in the center of the room.
I spend the next two hours playing the perfect bride. Smiling until my face hurts. Telling our fake love story until I almost believe it. Accepting congratulations from people who are clearly sizing me up, trying to figure out if I'm worthy of Dominic Ashford.
By the time the last guest leaves, I'm exhausted.
Victoria approaches with my phone. "You need to see this."
The screen shows social media exploding with photos of our wedding. The headlines are exactly what I expected:
"BILLIONAIRE CEO MARRIED IN SECRET CEREMONY" "DOMINIC ASHFORD'S SHOCKING WEDDING TO DISGRACED HEIRESS" "LOVE OR STRATEGY? THE TRUTH BEHIND CHICAGO'S SURPRISE WEDDING"
And below the headlines, thousands of comments. Most of them cruel.
"She's obviously a gold digger." "He only married her because he needs a wife for the inheritance clause." "Give it six months. This won't last."
I hand the phone back to Victoria. "They hate me."
"They're jealous." She pockets the phone. "You just married one of the most powerful men in Chicago. Of course they hate you."
"Does it get easier?"
"No. But you learn to care less." She heads toward the door. "Get some rest, Mrs. Ashford. Tomorrow your real life begins."
Then I'm alone.
Alone in a penthouse that's now my home.
Alone in a marriage that's not real.
Alone with a man who hates me sleeping somewhere down the hall.
I wander to the massive windows overlooking Chicago. The city glitters below, beautiful and indifferent.
Somewhere in one of those buildings, my father is sleeping in his hospital bed. Safe. Protected. Because of the deal I made.
"Worth it," I whisper to my reflection. "It's worth it."
But I don't sound convinced.
A door opens behind me. Dominic emerges from his study, still in his suit, tie loosened.
We stare at each other across the penthouse.
Husband and wife.
Enemies bound by contract.
"The guest rooms are prepared," he says coldly. "Yours is the third door on the left. My room is off-limits. We maintain separate lives under this roof."
"I understand."
"Good." He turns to leave, then pauses. "The threats you mentioned—my security team traced the number. It's a burner phone, untraceable. But they're monitoring all communications to and from this building."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. I'm protecting my investment." His eyes are ice. "You're my wife now. That makes you valuable. I protect what's valuable."
"Is that all I am to you? An investment?"
"What else would you be?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "Goodnight, Natalie."
He disappears into his wing of the penthouse.
I'm alone again.
Mrs. Dominic Ashford.
The girl who sold herself to save her father.
The woman who just locked herself in a cage for the next year.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown number. Again.
My hands shake as I open the message.
Congratulations on your wedding, Mrs. Ashford. You looked beautiful today. Such a shame your marriage is built on lies. But don't worry—I'm going to make sure everyone knows the truth. Starting tomorrow.
Sleep well. While you still can.
The phone slips from my fingers.
Someone is watching me.
Someone knows our marriage is fake.
And they're planning to expose us.
Which means everything—the contract, my father's safety, the ten million dollars—could disappear overnight.
I need to tell Dominic.
But when I turn toward his wing of the penthouse, his door is already closed. Locked.
The message said "starting tomorrow."
That means I have until morning to figure out who's threatening us.
And how to stop them before they destroy everything.
I'm married to one of the most powerful men in Chicago.
But tonight, standing in his penthouse wearing his ring, I've never felt more alone.
Or more terrified.
Because whoever is threatening me isn't going to stop.
And I have a horrible feeling that marrying Dominic Ashford just painted a target on my back.
One that someone is about to aim at.