CHAPTER 3: PERFECT CRACKS.

Elena's POV.

The coffee shop buzzed with morning energy, but I felt hollow. Twenty-four hours until the wedding, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was watching my life through glass—present but separate, close but untouchable.

"You look terrible." Marcus slid into the seat across from me, his investor's suit perfectly pressed despite the early hour. "When's the last time you slept?"

"Sleep is overrated." I wrapped my hands around my mug, seeking warmth. "How are the market projections looking for the merger?"

"Elena." His voice carried gentle reproach. "We're not here to talk business."

But business was safer than feelings. Numbers didn't lie or break hearts or make impossible promises. "The Thorne acquisition will stabilize everything. Vivian will be—"

"Miserable. And so will you."

I looked up sharply. Marcus had been my friend since college, the only person who'd seen through my careful composure to the wanting underneath. His dark eyes held sympathy I couldn't bear.

"I'll be fine."

"Will you?" He leaned forward. "Elena, you've been in love with Alexander Thorne for seven years. Tomorrow you're going to watch him marry your sister. That's not 'fine.'"

The coffee tasted bitter. Around us, people lived normal lives—complaining about traffic, planning weekend trips, choosing between muffin flavors. None of them were drowning in love they couldn't claim.

"He chose her," I said quietly. "That's all there is to it."

"Did he? Or did circumstances choose for him?"

I thought of all the moments that might have meant something. Alexander's hand brushing mine when passing documents. The way his conversations died when I entered rooms. How he listened to my ideas with an intensity that made my breath catch.

But I also thought of reality. The merger. The contracts. The careful distance he maintained, professional and proper.

"It doesn't matter now."

Marcus pulled out his phone, scrolling to a news article. "Look at this."

The headline made my stomach clench: "Thorne-Westvale Wedding: A Business Empire Built on Love?"

"The media's calling it a fairy tale," he said. "But everyone knows it's strategy. Alexander Thorne doesn't make decisions based on emotion."

"Then why—"

"Why marry Vivian instead of just doing a standard acquisition?" Marcus's smile held no humor. "Because your mother is brilliant. She negotiated marriage into the deal. Permanent alliance. No backing out once the ink dries."

I stared at the article's photos. Alexander in a tuxedo, all sharp angles and controlled power. Vivian radiant in designer clothes, her smile perfect for cameras. They looked like they belonged together—two beautiful people playing beautiful roles.

"Your sister doesn't love him either," Marcus continued. "I've seen her with that political aide, David something. They're not exactly subtle."

My heart stumbled. "What do you mean?"

"Elena." He reached across the table, covering my hand. "Everyone knows except the parents. Vivian's been having an affair for months."

The coffee shop blurred. I thought of my sister's distraction lately, her secretive phone calls, the way she'd avoided discussing wedding details. I'd assumed it was nerves.

"She wouldn't." But even as I said it, doubt crept in. Vivian had always taken what she wanted, consequences be damned. "The merger depends on this marriage."

"Does it? Or does it depend on a marriage to a Westvale daughter?"

His words hung between us like a dare. My pulse hammered against my ribs, dangerous thoughts forming. No. Impossible. Insane.

"Marcus, stop."

"I'm just saying—"

"I know what you're saying." I pulled my hand free, standing abruptly. "And it's crazy. I'm not Vivian. I don't have her confidence, her presence, her... everything. Alexander needs someone who can stand beside him in his world."

"Maybe he needs someone who can remind him there's more to life than board meetings and stock prices."

I left money on the table and fled. Outside, Luminance City's morning rush swirled around me—businesspeople hurrying to meetings, students heading to classes, everyone moving with purpose while I stood frozen.

My phone buzzed. A text from Vivian: "Can't talk today. Pre-wedding stuff. See you tomorrow!"

Pre-wedding stuff. Not dress fittings or rehearsal dinners or bride activities. Just... stuff.

I walked home through streets that felt different, charged with possibility I couldn't name. At my apartment, I found a package waiting. Inside: a wedding gift from an anonymous sender. A sketchbook filled with blank pages and a note: "For dreams worth drawing."

The handwriting was unfamiliar, but something about it made my chest tight. I flipped through empty pages, each one a question mark.

What if Marcus was right? What if circumstances had trapped Alexander as much as duty had trapped me? What if the careful distance between us wasn't indifference but something else entirely?

What if tomorrow didn't have to happen the way everyone expected?

I closed the sketchbook, hands shaking. These were dangerous thoughts. Selfish thoughts. The kind that destroyed families and toppled empires.

But for the first time in years, they felt like mine.

My phone rang. Mother's number.

"Elena, darling. I need you to come to Westvale Manor immediately."

Something in her voice made my blood chill. "What's wrong?"

"Just... come. Now."

The line went dead. I stared at the phone, dread building in my stomach. Outside, the city hummed with norma

l life while mine tilted toward something that felt like fate.

I grabbed my keys and ran.