Chapter 1

"Jessie Clarke, do you take this very handsome man beside you to be your husband, for better or worse, for richer or poorer?"

"I do," Mabel Jones said, her voice slightly muffled behind the veil.

The guests swooned, convinced that the Clarke heiress was so madly in love with me that not even a nasty cold could stop the wedding of the century. To them, it seemed she was determined not to offer me anything less than absolute perfection.

"Hang on," I said.

Mabel's gaze flicked away as tiny beads of sweat gathered along her forehead beneath the veil.

"Jessie, you look pale. Are you tired?" I asked with a smile.

Mabel cleared her throat nervously. "Yeah, I..."

I signaled for the officiant to pause the ceremony and guided her toward the lounge.

My phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with more than a dozen unread messages from Oliver Grant.

"You figured out the bride is fake, right? Was it surprising? Jessie and I are watching the livestream of your wedding."

He'd even attached a photo. Jessie was leaning on his shoulder like she belonged there, looking completely at ease.

"And by the way, the whole thing was my idea. She planned this wedding as a little game for my entertainment."

I shot off a quick reply. "Yeah? Want to bet one call from me and she'd dump you and come running?"

For a long moment, the screen showed no activity.

Excellent. He'd taken the bait.

Pocketing my phone, I shifted my attention to Mabel, who was still completely silent.

She looked at me, flustered. "Actually, I-I…"

I patted her shoulder. "Relax, Mabel."

Relief flickered across her face. "So you already knew."

After a long beat, she drew in a deep breath like she'd finally made up her mind. "Jessie doesn't deserve to marry you. She planned today just to humiliate you."

I leaned in without warning. "I didn't stop the ceremony to expose you. I just need your help to pull off a scene."

In my past life, I didn't learn until after I died that Mabel had cared about me for years without ever saying a word.

When the news of my death spread, she was the only one who refused to believe I'd fallen off the building by accident.

Eventually, she figured out that Jessie was the one who killed me, but she never found evidence strong enough to prove it. So on the anniversary of my death, she took Jessie with her and died alongside her.

Tears slipped down Mabel's cheeks before she even realized it. She lifted a hand, then froze halfway, not sure what to do. "If you think any of this is unfair, I can—"

I met her eyes, steady and sure. "Mabel Jones, listen. You're the one I want to marry."

When we stepped back up to the altar, the officiant smiled. "Now, please exchange rings."

I picked up the ring and slid it onto Mabel's finger, but it snagged at her knuckle and wouldn't go any farther.

She tried to push it on, cheeks burning, until I covered her hand to stop her.

A wave of whispers rippled through the crowd.

"What happened? Is the ring the wrong size?"

"How do you mess up something this big? The Searles and Clarkes are way too careless."

In the crowd, Jessie's parents looked like someone had knocked the air out of them, their faces twisting all at once. They exchanged a glance. The panic in their eyes was impossible to miss.

So they'd known about Jessie's stunt the whole time and didn't stop it.

Mom's brows pinched together as she stared at me, worry written all over her face. I met her eyes and gave her a steady look, trying to tell her to stay calm.

Everyone watched like they were still trying to make sense of the whole thing when I lifted Mabel's veil.

"Oh my God, the bride isn't Jessie Clarke!"

"Then where's the real bride?"