Married To My Best Friend; Her Blood, My Passion

Hailey's POV

I shouldn't be here.

Standing in this bridal suite, wearing a white dress that wasn't made for me, holding flowers I didn't choose. The mirror showed a stranger a girl playing dress-up in someone else's life.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart." My mother's voice cracked as she adjusted my veil. Her hands were shaking.

Beautiful right? I looked like a fraud.

"Mom, I can't do this." My throat tightened. "This is insane. I can't just—"

"Hailey." My father's stern voice cut through the room. He stood by the door in his expensive suit, looking every bit the ruthless businessman he was. "The Wilsons are waiting, the guests are waiting. We've already discussed this."

Discussed! What a nice way to say they'd made the decision for me.

Three hours ago, I was just an invited guest at this wedding. Evans Wilson's wedding. My childhood best friend was supposed to get marry to Valarie Chen today. I have flew back from London just to watch the man I'd loved for years say "I do" to someone else.

But Valarie ran, disappeared without a trace and left Evans standing at the altar like a fool. The Wilsons panicked because their reputation was on the line, seven hundred guests were downstairs waiting, the media was outside, and cameras were ready.

Then my father and Evans' father went into a room. Twenty minutes later, they came out with a solution.

Me.

"Think of it as helping a friend," my mother said softly. "Evans needs you."

Evans needed me. Those three words had controlled my life since I was fifteen. When he needed help with homework, I stayed up all night tutoring him. When he needed a date to his university formal, I cancelled my own plans. When he needed someone to listen to him complain about Valarie, I swallowed my feelings and played the supportive best friend.

And now? Now he needed a bride.

A knock on the door made my heart jump.

"It's time," my father said.

My legs moved on their own, down the hallway, down the grand staircase and toward the massive doors of the Wilson estate's ballroom. I could hear music playing inside. Soft, romantic and mocking.

The doors opened.

Seven hundred pairs of eyes turned to look at me.

I wanted to run, to scream or do anything except walk down that aisle but my father's grip on my arm was iron-tight. He smiled at the guests like this was normal. Like his daughter wasn't a last-minute replacement.

My eyes found Evans at the altar.

He stood there in a black tuxedo, tall and devastatingly handsome, his dark hair was perfectly styled, his jaw was clenched and those piercing eyes that used to make me feel safe now made me feel like a stranger.

He wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the ground.

This wasn't how I'd imagined marrying Evans Wilson. In my teenage dreams, he would look at me with love, he would smile and he would be happy it was me walking toward him.

But this wasn't a dream. This was a nightmare dressed in white.

My father handed me over to Evans like I was a business transaction, maybe that's all this was. My father had agreed to give the Wilsons five percent of his company shares in exchange for this marriage. Five percent to save their reputation.

Five percent to buy me a husband who didn't want me.

The officiant started talking. I barely heard the words. Something about love and commitment and forever. Lies. All of it.

"Do you, Evans Wilson, take Hailey Grey to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Evans finally looked at me. His expression was unreadable, cold and distant.

"I do."

Two words that sealed my fate.

"And do you, Hailey Grey, take Evans Wilson to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

I should say no, I should run or I should save myself from this disaster.

But I looked into Evans' eyes and remembered every moment we'd shared. Every laugh, every late-night conversation, and every time my heart skipped a beat when he smiled at me.

I'd loved him for so long,maybe this was my only chance to be close to him. Even if he didn't love me back.

"I do."

The officiant smiled. "You may kiss the bride."

Evans stepped closer. His hand touched my waist, and electricity shot through me. He leaned down, his lips inches from mine. For a second, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. Hesitation? Regret?

Then his lips pressed against mine.

Soft and gentle. But it was over too quickly.

The crowd erupted in applause. They didn't know the truth. They thought this was romantic the best friend stepping in to save the day.

They didn't know I'd just married a man who would never love me back.

Evans pulled away and took my hand. His grip was firm but not warm. We turned to face the guests, and everyone stood, clapping and cheering.

I forced a smile.

Mrs Hailey Wilson. That was my name now.

and I'd never felt more alone.

The reception was torture.

We sat at the head table, smiling for photos while people gave speeches about love and destiny. Evans barely spoke to me. He kept his hand on mine for the cameras, but the moment they looked away, he let go.

"Are you okay?" I finally whispered.

He didn't look at me. "I'm fine."

"Evans…"

"Not here, Hailey." His voice was quiet but sharp. "We'll talk later."

Later, Always later with him.

I watched as guests danced and laughed and celebrated a marriage that wasn't real. My mother kept crying happy tears. My father kept shaking hands with business partners, already calculating how this union would benefit him.

No one asked me if I was happy.

Around midnight, Evans stood up. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Home." He said it like it was obvious. "We're married now. You'll live at the Wilson estate."

Right, of course, I was Mrs Wilson now. I had to live in his cold, massive mansion. Sleep in his house and pretend to be his wife.

We said goodbye to the guests and got into a black car. The driver took us through the quiet Paris streets toward the Wilson estate on the edge of the city.

Evans stared out the window the entire drive.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

That got his attention. He turned to look at me, confused. "For what?"

"For ruining your wedding day. I know you wanted to marry Valarie. I know this isn't what you planned."

His expression softened slightly. "You didn't ruin anything, Hailey. Valarie did."

"Still. You're stuck with me now."

"I'm not stuck with you." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I know this is weird. But we'll make it work. We're friends, right? We can figure this out."

Friends. The word cut deeper than it should have.

"Yeah," I said. "Friends."

The car pulled up to the Wilson estate. The mansion looked even bigger at night, all lit up like a castle. Evans got out first and offered me his hand. I took it, and he helped me out of the car.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Wilson," he said.

It should have sounded romantic. Instead, it sounded like a prison sentence.

He led me inside. The place was quiet and empty. The staff had already gone to bed and our footsteps echoed on the marble floors.

"Your room is upstairs," Evans said. "I'll show you."

"My room?" I repeated. "We're not... sharing?"

He looked uncomfortable. "I thought you'd want your own space, we can keep separate rooms, no one needs to know."

Of course separate rooms. Because this wasn't a real marriage.

I followed him up the grand staircase. He opened a door to a massive bedroom. King-size bed, walk-in closet and private bathroom. It looked like a luxury hotel room.

"If you need anything, I'm down the hall," Evans said. "Third door on the left."

"Okay."

He hesitated in the doorway. "Hailey?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For doing this. I know it wasn't fair to ask."

"You didn't ask," I pointed out. "Our fathers decided."

"I know but still. Thank you."

He left before I could respond.

I stood alone in my new bedroom, still wearing my wedding dress, and finally let the tears fall.

I'd just married my best friend.

And I'd never felt more heartbroken in my life.