The Heir’s Impostor Bride

The Night I said Yes

Isla POV 

I stepped out of that elevator like I owned the building, shoulders back, chin up. Tonight I was Lauren Cassidy. The black cocktail dress clung to my body. The fake diamond pendant rested cool against my collarbone. 

Five minutes. That was all I had before security rotated and this whole job went to hell.

“Naomi, you still with me?” I whispered, fingers brushing the  earpiece hidden behind my hair. 

“I’m here,” she answered, voice tight. “Mark’s on the fourteenth floor. We have only five minutes.” 

“Excuse me.”  A security officer called.

I turned and faced him. He studied my name tag and identity card for a moment then looked up. 

“Sorry Miss Lauren. We have been expecting you.”

I gave a brief nod and kept walking .

“Isla.” Naomi’s voice came back through the earpiece, restless now. “It feels too easy.” 

“Relax. It’s your mind playing tricks.” I turned the corner without breaking stride, heels clicking sharp against the marble. “I’m almost there.”

Suite 1408.  The cloned keycard slid in clean. One beep and the lock clicked open. With no time I moved straight to the antique desk, yanked open the second drawer and there it was…the cream envelope with the red wax seal, exactly where Naomi said it would be. 

“Got it,” I breathed, sliding it inside the hidden pocket of my dress. “Heading out now.” 

“Good. I’ll have the car running.”

I slipped back into the hallway and headed for the stairs. Elevators were too risky tonight. The second the stairwell door closed behind me, the lights died.

Darkness swallowed everything. 

My hand slapped the wall. “Naomi? Naomi, talk to me!”

Nothing.

Then footsteps. Fast, heavy coming down from above. 

I ran.

My heels clattered against the concrete. I kicked them off mid-stride and slammed through the fire exit into the parking garage, bare feet tearing on the rough surface. 

Naomi was slumped against the car, one hand pressed weakly to her side. Blood soaked through her shirt.

I caught her before she dropped. “Who did this? Naomi!”

“Just drive,” she gasped.

I shoved her into the passenger seat. That was when the shadows moved. Two masked men stepped out from behind a pillar.

The first grabbed my arm. I spun and drove my elbow straight into his throat. The second raised his gun. The shot cracked through the garage. White-hot pain exploded in my shoulder. I screamed, kicked his knee sideways, and threw myself behind the wheel.

Another bullet shattered the back window as I floored the accelerator, tires screaming against the concrete.

“Naomi, stay with me!” I pressed my hand hard against her wound. Warm blood pulsed against my palm, soaking my fingers. “Keep talking to me. Yell at me. Anything.”

Her head lolled to the side. “You’re… so annoying.”

“I know,” I choked out, tears blurring the road ahead. My voice cracked. “We’ll fight about it later. Just stay awake. We still have so much left to do, okay? You hear me?”

But her eyes fluttered shut.

“Naomi!”

I ran every red light screaming her name the whole way to Mercy General. My shoulder burned. Blood covered the seat, the wheel, my lap, my hands.

By the time I reached the emergency entrance, I was already screaming for help.

Nurses rushed out with a gurney. I tried to follow them through the doors, but strong arms held me back.

“You have to wait here, ma’am.”

“She’s my family!” I screamed, fighting against them. “Let me through! Please!”

The doors slammed shut.

I stood there covered in Naomi’s blood, my shoulder throbbing, the stolen envelope still tucked uselessly under my dress. 

________________________________________

The waiting room smelled like bleach and coffee. I paced for hours until a nurse finally pulled me aside to stitch my shoulder. I barely felt the needle.

When the doctor finally came through the doors, his face told me everything before he spoke.

“Are you her guardian?”

“Yes.” I straightened, trying to look stronger than I felt. “I’m Isla Virelli.”

He nodded. “Severe internal bleeding and a fractured skull. She needs surgery immediately or she won’t make it through the night.”

When he told me the cost, my stomach dropped.

“I don’t have that kind of money,” I said, voice flat. “Not even close. There has to be something you can do.”

“Right now we need to move fast. She’s already declining.”

He turned and walked back through the doors.

I sank into a plastic chair and buried my face in my bloody hands. I pulled out the envelope hoping at least we would get paid for it. Nothing was there. It was fake. Naomi was dying and I couldn’t pay to save her.

“Ms. Virelli.”

The voice cut through the noise. Calm. Controlled. The kind that expected obedience.

I looked up.

A woman in her mid-fifties stood there. Silver-streaked dark hair pulled back perfectly, sharp features, icy blue eyes that looked right through me like she already owned every secret I had.

“I don’t know you,” I said carefully.

“No. But I know you.” She tilted her head slightly. “Isla Virelli…or perhaps that is not your real name either.” She did not wait for me to respond. “I have been looking for you. And I have an offer that can save your friend’s life tonight.”

She produced her phone and turned the screen toward me.

The woman in the photo had my exact face. She was laughing in a garden, wearing a white dress and a thin gold bracelet.

My hands started shaking. 

“Her name is Celeste Voss,” the woman said. “My son’s missing fiancée. He’s been in a coma for five months and barely remembers anything except her name. The family needs her back. I am Vivienne Hargrove.”

She lowered the phone. 

“The contract is simple, I save your friend’s life tonight. Surgery. Specialists. Private care. Everything. In exchange, you become Celeste until my son recovers.”

“And if I refuse?”

She looked at me like I was already accounted for. “Then you go back to that waiting room and watch her die.”

I looked down at the dried blood staining my hands. Naomi’s blood.

My fingers trembled as I took the sleek black card she offered.

“The second you take that card,” Vivienne said, rising to her feet, “Isla Virelli disappears. Tonight. Completely.”

I followed her out into the cold night. The hospital doors closed behind us with a soft final sound.

A heavy, sick feeling settled deep in my stomach.

I had just sold everything I was.

But Naomi would live.

I told myself that was enough.

I already knew I was lying.