CHAPTER 4: THE GROOM'S INTUITION.

Alexander's POV.

The rehearsal dinner had been a performance. Smiles for photographers, toasts that meant nothing, my hand on Vivian's back as we moved through choreographed moments. She'd been distracted all evening, checking her phone between courses, her laughter too bright and brittle.

Now, alone in my study at midnight, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was standing at the edge of a cliff.

The wedding was in fourteen hours.

I poured scotch and opened the Westvale acquisition files again, though I knew every clause by memory. Sometimes the familiar rhythm of business could quiet the chaos in my head. Tonight wasn't one of those times.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "She's not who you think she is."

I stared at the screen. Corporate espionage wasn't unusual in my world—competitors often tried psychological warfare before major deals. But something about this message felt different. Personal.

I deleted it and tried to focus on market projections.

Another buzz. Same number: "The truth will surface tomorrow. Be ready."

This time I didn't delete it. I forwarded the messages to my security team with instructions to trace the sender. In my world, information was power. Someone was playing games, and I needed to know who.

But as I worked, my mind kept wandering to Elena. She'd been absent from most of the wedding events, busy with what Evelyn called "final preparations." I'd found myself looking for her at the rehearsal dinner, disappointed when she didn't appear.

Which was ridiculous. She was the sister of the bride, not the bride herself. Her presence or absence shouldn't matter to me.

Except it did.

Seven years of stolen glances had taught me Elena's rhythms. She was an observer, not a performer, but she showed up for family obligations. Her absence felt wrong, like a note played off-key in a familiar symphony.

My security chief called back within an hour.

"The messages came from a burner phone," James reported. "Purchased with cash yesterday, already disposed of. But we pulled footage from the store. You want to see this."

He sent a photo. A young man in his thirties, unremarkable except for eyes that looked familiar. Very familiar.

"Run facial recognition," I said. "Full background check."

"Already on it. Results in the morning."

After he hung up, I stared at the photo. Those eyes belonged to the Westvale family—I'd seen them staring back at me across dinner tables for months. But this wasn't Elena or Vivian.

A brother? Evelyn had mentioned Liam once, years ago, before changing the subject abruptly. Family secrets weren't unusual among the wealthy, but the timing felt significant.

Someone wanted me to question tomorrow's wedding. Someone with access to Westvale family genetics and reasons to remain anonymous.

I closed the files and walked to the windows. Luminance City spread below, its lights reflecting my restless energy. Somewhere out there, Elena was probably putting finishing touches on wedding details. Somewhere out there, Vivian was preparing to become my wife.

And somewhere out there, someone knew something I didn't.

The scotch burned as I considered possibilities. Corporate sabotage. Family drama. Cold feet manifesting as paranoia.

Or maybe something else entirely.

My phone rang. Sophia's name flashed on the screen.

"You're awake," she said without preamble.

"Wedding nerves."

"Alex." Her voice carried the tone that meant she was about to say something I wouldn't want to hear. "I've been thinking about this merger."

"It's too late for second thoughts."

"Is it? Because I've been watching the Westvale family dynamics, and something feels off. Vivian barely talks to you. She's been distracted for weeks. And Elena..."

"What about Elena?"

Silence stretched between us, loaded with implications I didn't want to examine.

"She looks at you like you hung the moon," Sophia said finally. "And you look at her like you're trying not to notice."

My grip tightened on the phone. "Elena isn't part of this equation."

"Maybe she should be."

"Sophia—"

"I'm just saying, marriage is supposed to last forever. Make sure you're marrying the right person."

She hung up before I could respond, leaving me alone with thoughts I'd spent months suppressing. Elena's quiet intelligence. The way she remembered details others forgot. How she seemed to see past the corporate mask to something real underneath.

But Elena hadn't chosen me. She'd never expressed interest, never given signs that my carefully controlled attraction was mutual. She was simply... there. Beautiful and untouchable as starlight.

Tomorrow I would marry her sister and build the life everyone expected. Clean. Strategic. Safe.

I finished my drink and tried to sleep, but my dreams were full of mysteries. Anonymous messages and familiar eyes and brides who might not be who they seemed.

When I woke at dawn, two things were clear:

Someone was trying to tell me something important.

And in ten hours, I would either make the biggest mistake of my life or the smartest decision I'd ever made.

The only question was which.