Bride Of The Living Dummy Mga Nobela at Kwento

Her surname was her mother's maiden name. Grace Adaeze Bridges. Dead four years. Naomi had taken her mother's surname name after she died and quietly buried the one she was born with, the one on her original birth certificate that Darius had spent most of the night tracking down through Lagos civil records and a contact who owed him a favour. I read the name on that birth certificate slowly. Then I sat back in my chair and looked at the ceiling for a long moment. NAOMI COLE. Cole. As in Vivienne Cole. As in the woman who was supposed to be standing at my altar yesterday morning. As in the real bride.

“Revenge.” “What?” “It's simple, Steph. Your life was almost ruined because of your fiancé and his secretary. Don't you want revenge on them?” He asked, his voice holding a mischievous edge and I shuddered “I do. But—” “Disappeare for two years, Stephanie. Your death certificate will be signed. Stephanie will die today. But you'll return as a different woman. As my wife.” He explained, and I froze in shock. “What?”

Exactly thirty days ago, I came home from my shift at the café and found my roommate Maria sitting in the living room with her impossibly greasy boyfriend. “We should talk, Paris,” she said with that fake sweet smile she always wore. Maria was the type of person who tried very hard to seem kind and understanding, but there just wasn’t much depth behind the act. She kept chewing the same wad of gum she always had in her mouth while she looked at me with those blank eyes. Her boyfriend was sprawled on the couch pretending to watch TV. He tried to look casual, but the smug little grin on his face gave him away.

I questioned her. She looked at me with uncertainty, took a deep breath and answered, "We need you to be a fake bride”. I released my hand from her grip but she continued, "It's less than two weeks away from now, I promise we're going to annul it. The only thing we need is your presence as the bride". I chuckled forcefully, "I have a lot on my plate and I do not have time to on a charade". I tried to open the car door but she held on to me tightly and started pleading. I wasn't ready to be caught in between the rich folks but she kept on emphasizing how I'd fit the role perfectly because I have almost the same body frame as Daisy.

"Cameras love a nervous bride." We reached the altar. The officiant opened his book. Two hundred guests fell silent at once, and I could hear my own pulse in my ears louder than anything else in that room. "Damon Wrexley", the officiant said, "will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together in the holy bond of marriage?" Damon's eyes found mine. Something flickered there, cold and final, and his lips parted. "I don't." The room held its breath with me.

Damien Blackwood. A slow smile spread across his face. "So..." "The little mouse has entered the lion's den." A woman in black approached him. "Boss." Damien didn't turn around. "Is everything ready?" "Yes." "The room has been prepared." Damien smiled. "Excellent." "Tonight..." "...our fake bride dies." Later that night... Emily stood inside Alexander's bedroom. It was larger than the entire house she had grown up in. She nervously looked around. Alexander removed his suit jacket.