Chapter 4

Anna’s POV

Tyler’s text glowed on my phone like a dare.

Ready for the spotlight, Anna? – T

I stood frozen in the middle of my bedroom, the screen reflected faintly in the mirror across from me, my own face staring back like I’d borrowed it from someone braver. The room didn’t look like mine anymore. Designer bags lounged against the walls like bored cats. Shoe boxes were stacked with careless wealth. Jewelry cases lay open on my bed, diamonds catching the light and throwing it back at me in sharp, glittering flashes.

I barely recognized the girl standing there.

My heart hammered as I lowered the phone and took a shaky breath. The scent of new leather and perfume hung in the air, unfamiliar and intoxicating. Only a few hours ago, I’d been the girl everyone ignored—the plumber’s daughter with the good grades and bad clothes. The girl Ryder had laughed at while rejecting her like a defective product.

Now… now I was something else. Or at least, I looked like I could be.

I lifted my phone again, rereading Tyler’s message. My thumb hovered over the screen, indecisive. What was I supposed to say? Yes, I’m terrified? No, please forget this ever happened? You don’t own me?

I swallowed.

This was fake. All of it. A contract. A performance. I reminded myself of that as I typed.

Ready.

Just one word. Clean. Confident. A lie, maybe—but a necessary one.

I sent it before I could change my mind.

The phone buzzed almost immediately.

Good. Don’t be late.

A thrill shot through me, equal parts nerves and something dangerously close to excitement. I dropped the phone onto the bed and pressed my palms to the mirror, leaning in close.

“Get a grip,” I whispered to my reflection.

The girl staring back had glossy black hair now, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. My eyes looked bigger somehow, sharper. My lips—bare earlier—were fuller now, tinted just enough to look effortless. She didn’t look weak. She didn’t look like someone you could discard and forget.

She looked like someone people would notice.

My phone rang again, this time vibrating loudly against the mattress. Louisa’s name flashed across the screen.

I hesitated—then answered.

“Anna,” she blurted the moment I said hello. “Tell me you’re alive. Tell me you didn’t wake up married or kidnapped or accidentally pledge yourself to a cult.”

I snorted despite myself. “I’m alive. And… no cults.”

“Okay, good. That’s good,” she breathed. “But also—bad—because I’ve been pacing my room for two hours wondering if I ruined your life.”

That sobered me. I sank onto the edge of the bed, the silk comforter cool beneath my fingers. “Louisa…”

“Anna,” she interrupted, voice tight, “what happened after the bar? I swear—God, I thought I’d sold you to the devil.”

I let out a slow breath. “You kind of did.”

“What?”

“I’m kidding,” I said quickly. “Mostly.”

She groaned. “Don’t do that. Please. Just—talk to me.”

So I did.

I told her everything.

I told her about waking up in the hotel room. About the Winterveil quadruplets—Liam, Tyler, Kyle, and Henry. About their stupidly handsome faces and impossible presence. About the way the bond had snapped into place and how I’d panicked and rejected them on the spot. About the fake dating contract. The makeover. The jewelry. The promise to end everything when they left.

Louisa was silent for a long time.

Then she whispered, “Anna.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t accidentally sell you to four gods,” she said slowly. “I intentionally shoved you toward the altar and lit candles.”

I laughed, a shaky sound that surprised me. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “Do you have any idea who they are? The Winterveil quadruplets? They’re legends. Girls cry over them. Whole packs gossip about them.”

“I know,” I muttered. “Trust me. I know.”

“And now you’re… fake dating them?” she continued. “All four?”

“Very fake,” I emphasized. “Contractually fake.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “I can’t believe this.”

“Neither can I.”

There was a pause, then her tone shifted—lighter, teasing. “So… did I accidentally sell you to four gods, or did I accidentally save you from a lifetime of sweaters and loneliness?”

I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” she pressed, “Ryder rejected you like garbage, and less than twelve hours later you’re waking up next to four men who look like they walked out of a magazine. That’s not bad karma. That’s divine intervention.”

My smile faltered.

Louisa must have heard it in my silence because her voice softened. “Hey. I’m joking. Mostly. Are you… okay?”

I swallowed. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m standing on a cliff and someone keeps daring me to jump.”

“Did I push you?” she asked quietly.

The question hit harder than I expected.

“Did you… set me up?” I asked. “Deliberately?”

“What?” she yelped. “No! Anna, I swear on my wolf’s life, I didn’t know who was in that room. I just thought—God, I just thought maybe if you had a distraction, you wouldn’t go home and cry yourself sick over Ryder.”

I closed my eyes, guilt washing over me. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“But,” she cut in, hesitant now, “I won’t lie. When I realized who they were this morning… I did wonder if the moon goddess herself shoved you in that direction.”

I huffed. “Great. So even fate is laughing at me.”

“Or maybe,” Louisa said carefully, “fate is finally paying attention.”

I didn’t answer.

Doubt curled in my chest, quiet but persistent. Had last night really been an accident? Or had I been nudged—guided—into something I wasn’t ready for?

“I’m going to the game tonight,” I said finally.

“I figured,” Louisa replied. “You’re not the kind of girl who hides anymore.”

The words surprised me.

“I’ll be there,” she added quickly. “Somewhere in the stands. I want a front-row seat to Ryder’s breakdown.”

That earned a real laugh. “You’re awful.”

“I know.”

After we hung up, I stood again and turned back to the mirror. The doubt lingered, but it didn’t paralyze me. Not tonight.

Tonight wasn’t about fate or contracts or what-ifs.

Tonight was about walking into that stadium and reminding everyone—including myself—that I was still standing.

I opened the garment bag Dianne had left behind and drew out the dress. Black. Sleek. Nothing flashy—just devastatingly simple. It hugged my curves like it was made for me, stopping just above my knees. I paired it with ankle boots and a delicate diamond necklace that caught the hollow of my throat.

When I finished dressing, I barely recognized myself.

My heart pounded as I grabbed my coat and keys. The air outside was crisp, the sky darkening as the stadium lights glowed in the distance like a beacon.

Every step felt heavy. Every step felt powerful.

By the time I reached the entrance, the roar of the crowd washed over me—laughter, cheers, the electric buzz of anticipation.

I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and walked forward.

The moment I stepped inside the stadium, the noise seemed to dip, just slightly.

Heads turned.

 I didn’t shrink under the weight of their stares.

I walked in anyway.