Chapter 4: First Client, First Wedding

Fedora sat in the corner of a dimly lit coffee shop, absently stirring her caramel latte. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the hum of conversations around her, but she was lost in thought.

It had been three months since she walked out of Rombosco Alliance Construction Company with nothing but a cardboard box and a fractured sense of self. Three months since she received the wedding invitation that sent her spiraling. Three months of trying—and failing—to figure out what was next, or even kickstart the business idea she researched about—Bridal Fix. 

Her savings were dwindling. And she is yet to know how to go about the Bridal Fix idea.

Fedora had always been a fighter. Born and raised in Texas by a Texas father and a Mexican mother, she was no stranger to hardship. She had learned early on that survival meant adapting, and when life knocked her down, she found a way to get back up. But this time, she wasn’t just getting up—she was reinventing herself.

She was a woman with a stellar résumé but no desire to return to the corporate world.

And then fate intervened.

She wasn’t eavesdropping, not exactly—but the conversation at the next table was impossible to ignore.

“I just need someone to pretend to be my wife for Thanksgiving,” a man groaned. “My mother won’t stop nagging me about settling down, and I can’t handle another year of her matchmaking.”

Fedora glanced up, intrigued. The man looked like he had stepped straight out of a luxury magazine—tailored navy suit, expensive watch, perfectly styled hair. Mid-40s, probably. Old enough to have his life together, yet desperate enough to consider something this ridiculous.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

“I’ll do it,” she said, her voice casual. “For a price.”

The man blinked, caught off guard. “You’re joking.”

She shrugged. “Try me.”

His curiosity sharpened. “How much?”

She had no idea what number made sense, so she blurted out the first thing that sounded outrageous. “Three thousand dollars.”

She expected laughter. Maybe a scoff.

Instead, he pulled out his phone. “Give me your number.”

Fedora hesitated, then rattled off the digits. Is this how prayers are answered fast? Wait! Did she even remember to pray at all? Because all she could remember was wallowing in self-pity.

***

The man’s name was Daniel Montgomery—heir to Montgomery & Sons, a billion-dollar shipping empire. His problem? An overbearing mother who was determined to see him married before the year ended.

His solution? Fedora.

“All you have to do is act the part,” he explained over lunch the next day. “Hold my hand at dinner. Smile at my relatives. Convince my mother we’re serious, and in return, you walk away with three grand.”

It sounded unreal. Her first client? Whew!

***

Two weeks later, Fedora entered the Montgomery estate—a sprawling mansion that looked like something out of a royal fairytale.

She had played many roles in her life—a daughter, an employee, a girlfriend, and a best friend—but this was the first time she had played a wife.

She wore an elegant navy dress, simple yet refined, and her hair swept into soft waves. She knew the assignment: charm, convince, and leave.

Daniel introduced her to his family, and Fedora slipped seamlessly into the role. She laughed at his father’s jokes, complimented his mother’s home, and listened intently as his younger sister raved about her latest travel adventure.

The hardest part? Pretending to adore a man she barely knew.

But Fedora was a quick learner. She noticed how Daniel always hesitated before answering a personal question, so she filled in the gaps with effortless lies. She intertwined her fingers with his when his mother’s sharp gaze landed on them. She rested a hand on his arm whenever a nosy aunt asked about wedding dates.

By the end of the night, Mrs. Montgomery was beaming.

“You’ve finally found someone worthy,” she said, gripping Fedora’s hands warmly.

If only she knew.

When the evening ended, Daniel walked Fedora to her car. He looked both amused and relieved. “I have to admit, you were incredible.”

She smirked. “I know.”

He handed her an envelope—three thousand in crisp bills.

“Worth every penny,” he said.

***

She couldn't believe her luck in landing her first client. The idea was like a joke when she first got it that fateful day, but now? It was a dream come true.

But the very next morning, Daniel called.

“I have a friend,” he began. “He needs a wife, too. But for a little longer.”

Fedora hesitated. Once was a miracle. Twice? That was real business.

“How much?” she asked.

“Fifteen grand.”

Her breath caught.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t romance. It was a service—and a lucrative one at that.

Fedora had always been good at fixing things, at making things work. If men like Daniel were willing to pay for a well-crafted illusion, why shouldn’t she be the one to provide it?

And just like that, Bridal Fix was finally established.

***

By the time she met Judah Carlstone, Fedora had perfected her craft. She had been a bride fifteen times and divorced just as many. Each marriage was an act, a performance executed with precision.

It wasn’t always smooth. There had been close calls, like the time a suspicious mother-in-law hired a private investigator to dig into her past. Fedora had spent three weeks crafting a flawless cover story, complete with fake social media accounts, old emails, and staged “family” photos. When the investigator presented his findings, everything checked out. Another time, an ex-client's real fiancée showed up at an event, demanding answers. Fedora played dumb, feigned confusion, and walked away before things could unravel.

She operated strictly through word-of-mouth referrals—no website, no digital footprint. Her business was discreet, her clients wealthy and desperate. A friend would recommend a friend, always in hushed tones over scotch or cigars. Some were CEOs needing a wife for an international business deal. Others were politicians avoiding scandal. Whatever the reason, Fedora delivered.

She had played the role of the devoted wife, the reluctant bride, the trophy spouse—all without losing herself. She wore wedding dresses like armor and said vows like well-rehearsed lines in a play. Love was an illusion, and she was the magician who sold the fantasy.

Then came Judah.

Tall, confident, and unreadable. He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t fumble with nervous excuses or present rehearsed requests. He slid a contract across the table and met her gaze with an intensity that unsettled her.

“I need a wife,” he said, his voice smooth but firm. “For three months. No complications. No exceptions.”

Fedora smirked, tapping a manicured nail against the table. “That’s what they all say.”

But something in his expression made her pause. There was a weight behind his words, an urgency she couldn’t quite place. Judah wasn’t just another client. He was something else.

A recommendation had brought him to her, but this one came with a whisper of reverence. Judah Carlstone—royalty, billionaire, the man who never needed to ask for anything. And yet, here he was, asking for her.

Who exactly is he, anyway? His referee never told her anything, except, “He needs you as urgently as air?” Like, seriously, air? It is not as if he would die if she weren’t in the picture!

The fact is, she had always had one rule: “I don’t give an ounce about who you are—so just tell me the basics of what I need to know about the job—any other information is none of my bees-wax,” and all her clients obeyed the rules to the latter. Hence, in all her three years of being the sole CEO of Bridal Fix, she was more curious than a cat!

And for the first time in a long time, Fedora wondered if she had finally met someone who could break through the walls she had so carefully built.