CHAPTER 4

Clara Montgomery POV

The private elevator opened directly into Alexander’s penthouse, and my jaw almost dropped. The place was massive. It had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city skyline, minimalist black-and-white furniture, and marble floors so polished I could see my reflection. It looked less like a home and more like a high-end modern museum.

"Guest room is the second door on the left," Alexander said, loosening his silver tie as he walked past me. "There’s a bathroom inside. Get out of those wet clothes before you ruin my floors."

I didn't answer. I just dragged my soaked, heavy wedding dress across the pristine marble, leaving a trail of dirty water behind me. I didn't care if I was messing up his perfect apartment. I was too tired to care about anything.

The guest room was larger than my entire old bedroom at my father's house. I locked the door behind me, stripped out of the freezing, ruined gown, and left it in a heap on the bathroom floor. I showered until the hot water turned my skin pink, trying to scrub away the feeling of Julian’s lies and my father’s betrayal.

When I came out wrapped in a plush white bathrobe I found in the closet, I collapsed onto the king-sized bed. I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep, but the moment my head hit the pillows, exhaustion slammed into me like a brick wall.

A loud, synchronized knocking woke me up.

I blinked against the bright morning sunlight streaming through the windows. For a second, I forgot where I was. I thought I was still back at the hotel, getting ready to marry Julian. Then the reality of last night rushed back, making my chest tighten. I was in Alexander Sterling's penthouse. I was technically a married woman now, or at least bound to become one publicly.

"Come in," I called out, sitting up and pulling the blanket to my chest.

The door opened, and a frantic woman with short blonde hair and a headset marched in, followed by four assistants carrying rolling racks of clothes, boxes of shoes, and professional makeup cases.

"Good morning, Mrs. Sterling! I’m Chloe, your lead stylist," the woman said, not even giving me a chance to process what was happening. "Mr. Sterling briefed us. We have exactly two hours to transform you before the press conference at noon. Let’s get to work."

Before I could say a single word, I was pulled out of bed. For the next two hours, it was pure chaos. They plucked, blow-dried, painted, and styled me. They didn't ask for my input; they just followed whatever orders Alexander had clearly left for them.

By the time Chloe told me to look in the mirror, I gasped.

The tired, broken girl from the bus stop was completely gone. In her place stood a woman wearing a tailored, emerald-green silk dress that fit my curves perfectly. My hair was styled in sleek, modern waves, and my makeup was sharp and flawless. The green of the dress made me look striking, powerful, and dangerous.

"Mr. Sterling is waiting for you in the dining area," Chloe said, looking proud of her work.

I thanked them, took a deep breath, and walked out of the room.

Alexander was sitting at a long glass dining table, typing furiously on his laptop while sipping espresso. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. When he heard my heels clicking against the floor, he looked up.

His eyes tracked from my face down to the hem of my dress, lingering for a fraction of a second before his expression returned to its usual cold calmness.

"The dress suits you," he said, closing his laptop. "Eat quickly. We leave in twenty minutes."

I looked at the table. There was a full spread of breakfast—eggs, avocado toast, fresh fruit, and coffee. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon. I sat down across from him and started eating, not caring about etiquette.

"What exactly is happening at noon?" I asked between bites.

"Your father and Julian are holding a joint press conference at the Montgomery headquarters," Alexander explained, leaning back in his chair. "They're going to spin a story about how the wedding was postponed due to your sudden 'health issues' to keep the stock prices from dropping. Julian wants to paint himself as the worried, supportive fiancé."

I almost choked on my toast. "The nerve of that prick. He’s going to lie to the entire media?"

"Not for long," Alexander said, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face. "Because we are going to crash that press conference. The media will ask questions, and that's when we drop the bomb."

He reached into his pocket and slid a heavy, velvet box across the glass table toward me. I opened it. Inside was a massive, flawless emerald-cut diamond ring. It was easily ten carats, sparkling brilliantly under the dining room lights.

"Put it on," Alexander commanded quietly. "From this moment on, you are no longer the victim of their scheme. You are my wife. Act like it."

I took the ring out of the box. It felt surprisingly heavy on my finger, a literal weight anchoring me to this crazy deal. I looked at Alexander, seeing the absolute confidence in his eyes. He wasn't afraid of my father. He wasn't afraid of the scandal. He was ready for war, and honestly, looking at this ring, so was I.

"Let's go ruin their day," I said.

Alexander nodded, standing up and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the chair. He held his arm out for me. I slid my hand through the crook of his elbow, feeling the hard muscle beneath his expensive shirt.

We walked down to the basement garage together, where a fleet of black SUVs was waiting, surrounded by a dozen security guards. The drivers opened the doors for us in perfect unison. As the car pulled out of the garage and headed toward the downtown business district, I watched the city lights blur past. There was no turning back now.