Semua Bab The Substitute Bride : Bab 1 - Bab 10

The mahogany doors towered over her, carved and cold, like the gates of a prison. Chloe Adams gripped her bouquet until the stems bit into her palms. White roses. Not her choice. Nothing today was. This wasn’t the wedding she’d rehearsed in her head since she was sixteen. No Rose giggling beside her as bridesmaid, adjusting her veil and whispering, _“You’re gonna cry, I know it.”_ No father to walk her down the aisle. No friends packing the pews, throwing rice and hope. She’d wanted to pick her own gown. Lace, off-shoulder, something that made her feel like more than a transaction. Wishful thinking. Now she was just the replacement. The debt payment. The substitute bride. A tear threatened. She killed it with a blink. Smudged mascara was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Not when she had to survive him. The doors groaned open without her touching them. The sound rolled through the empty church like thunder in an empty sky. Her heels clicked against marble. Each step echoed, announcing her

The Dawkins never found Rose’s body. The fire took her whole, left nothing but a gold chain — the one her grandmother gave her at twenty — twisted and blackened in the wreckage. That was proof enough. Rose had boarded Flight GH-217. Rose was gone. The funeral was for an empty coffin. Chloe stood at the edge of the cemetery, half-hidden behind a marble angel. The sky was the color of bruises. Grief hung thick in the air, loud with sobs, with the raw sound of Mrs. Dawkins — Rose’s mother — screaming her daughter’s name into the earth. The casket lowered. Dirt hit wood. _Thud. Thud. Thud._ Each one landed in Chloe’s chest. She stepped forward, placed a single white lily on the mound, and turned to leave. She didn’t belong here. Not really. A hand shot out and seized her wrist. Nails dug in. _Smack._ Chloe’s head snapped to the side. Her cheek burned. The taste of copper bloomed in her mouth. “Give me back my daughter!” Mrs. Dawkins howled, fisting Chloe’s dress, dragging her down toward t

The airport roared. Announcements crackled overhead. Wheels clattered on tile. People pushed, dragged suitcases, argued at check-in counters. Chloe parked Daisy’s borrowed car in short-term and posted up by the Arrivals doors. She checked her phone. 10:28. Flight LS-446 from Heathrow: Landed. A stampede of girls rushed past her, squealing, nearly taking her out. Posters, phones, light sticks. The air filled with perfume and excitement. “Blaze! Blaze! Over here!” Chloe stumbled, caught herself on a pillar. Dusting off her dress, the memory hit her hard. This used to be her. Cameras flashing. Fans chanting her name when she touched down from a shoot in Morocco, in Tokyo. Security forming a wall while she signed hats, napkins, phone cases. Daisy yelling, “One minute, ladies, she’s tired!” Now she was just… Mrs. Reigns. Clause 4: _Party B shall relinquish her career and all professional titles._ She swallowed. When would she reclaim her lost glory? _If_ she ever could. She sighed, watching

Chloe’s blood ran cold. Four men climbed out of the first SUV. Four more from the second. Eight total. All suits, all muscle, all eyes locked on them like wolves on wounded deer. She did the only thing her body knew: hide. She ducked behind Blaze’s back, fisting his shirt like it was a shield. Her breath came fast, shallow. Eight against two. No, eight against one. She didn’t count. The men circled. Slow. Practiced. Cutting off every exit. “Long time no see, Blaze Reigns.” The voice was gravel and smoke. The man in front had a scar that split his face from left eye to mouth, twisting his lips into a permanent sneer. Leader. Obviously. “How long has it been?” Blaze said, easy as if they were at a bar. “Two days? You guys miss me that much? Chasing me halfway around the world, Scorpion?” Chloe’s nails dug into Blaze’s side. _Are you insane?_ She pinched him, hard, skin twisting under her fingers. _We’re outnumbered. Now is not the time for jokes._ Scorpion chuckled. The sound scraped. “W

Chloe’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. “You’re hired.” The manager’s words hit her like a lifeline. She bowed so fast she almost toppled. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. I won’t disappoint you.” He just waved her off. “Anita will show you around. Don’t be late.” Anita, a tall girl with sharp eyeliner and sharper heels, looked Chloe up and down. “I still can’t believe they hired someone same-day. You must be lucky. Or someone pulled strings.” Chloe smiled, tight. _Thank you, Harry._ “What can I say? I’m blessed.” “Changing room’s this way.” Anita turned on her heel, not waiting. Chloe followed. Then stopped dead. The “uniform” hanging in her locker wasn’t a uniform. It was two black scraps of fabric and a prayer. “What in heaven’s name is this?” Chloe held it up with two fingers, like it might bite her. “What?” Anita blinked, confused. “Your uniform.” “I’m supposed to be a waitress, not a stripper. This covers nothing. My _apologies_ show more than this does.” Anita snorted.