The Substitute Bride

The Offer

"You look nice. Where are you going?"

Bella stood in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush in her mouth, watching me fix my hair in the mirror. I'd barely slept after Ryan's bomb last night, and the dark circles under my eyes showed it.

"Ryan's mother wants to see me," I said, applying a little concealer. It didn't help much.

Bella rinsed her mouth and frowned. "Why would she want to see you? Ryan broke up with you."

"I don't know. Maybe to apologize or something." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.

"That family owes you more than an apology." Bella hugged me from behind, her chin on my shoulder. "You don't have to go."

"I know. But I want to hear what she has to say."

"Okay. But call me if you need me to come get you. I'll skip class."

"Don't skip class." I turned and kissed her forehead. "I'll be fine."

The bus ride to the Hunt mansion took forever. I kept thinking about Ryan's words last night. His mother wants to pay me to marry Nathan. It sounded even crazier in the morning light.

I got off the bus two blocks away and walked the rest. The neighborhood was beautiful. Huge houses behind iron gates. Trees lining perfect streets. This was a different world from mine.

The Hunt mansion looked like something from a movie. White stone. Tall columns. A fountain in the circular driveway. I stood at the gate for a full minute before pressing the button on the intercom.

"Yes?" A woman's voice, not Margaret's.

"Grace Miller. Mrs. Hunt is expecting me."

The gate buzzed and swung open. I walked up the long driveway, my stomach churning. What was I doing here?

A maid answered the door. She was older, with kind eyes. "Miss Miller? Please follow me."

The inside of the house was even more impressive than the outside. Marble floors. A crystal chandelier. Paintings that looked expensive. Everything was clean and perfect and cold.

The maid led me to a sitting room. "Mrs. Hunt will be with you shortly. Would you like tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you."

She left me alone. I sat on the edge of a cream-colored couch that probably cost more than my car. I didn't touch anything.

Five minutes later, Margaret Hunt walked in. She wore a gray suit and pearls. Her hair was perfect. She looked at me the way she always did, like I was something unpleasant she had to deal with.

"Grace. Thank you for coming."

"Mrs. Hunt."

She sat across from me and got straight to business. "Ryan told you about Nathan's situation?"

"He said something about a will. That Nathan needs to get married soon."

"In two weeks, to be exact. There's a clause in my late husband's will. Nathan must be married before his thirty-first birthday or he loses control of Hunt Enterprises."

"I'm sorry, but I still don't understand what that has to do with me."

Margaret pulled a folder from the table beside her. "Everything is already arranged for a wedding in six days. The venue. The flowers. The guests. Rather than cancel and create chaos, we have a solution. You marry Nathan instead of Ryan."

There it was. Out in the open.

"You want me to marry a man I've never met."

"Yes."

"That's insane."

"That's practical." Margaret opened the folder.

“This is a contract. One year of marriage. You'll live in Nathan's house and attend events as his wife. After one year, you divorce quietly. In exchange, you receive two million dollars."

Two million dollars. I couldn't even imagine that much money.

"Half now, half when the year ends," Margaret continued. "It's a generous offer."

"It's crazy."

"Is it?" Margaret leaned back. "You work two jobs, Grace. You're drowning in your parents' medical debt. Your sister just got accepted to an expensive art program she can't afford. This money solves all your problems."

My face burned. "How do you know about Bella?"

"I make it my business to know things. Especially about people who want to marry into my family." She pushed the folder toward me. "Read it. Think about it. But decide quickly. We don't have time to waste."

I stared at the folder like it might bite me. "Does Nathan know about this?"

"Of course. It was his idea to use the existing wedding arrangements."

"And he's okay with marrying a complete stranger?"

"Nathan is okay with doing whatever it takes to save his company. He doesn't care who he marries as long as she fulfills the requirements of the will."

That stung, even though it shouldn't have. I was a stranger to Nathan Hunt. Why would he care?

"I want to meet him first," I said.

Margaret smiled. It wasn't a warm smile. "I was hoping you'd say that. He's in his study. Come."

She stood and walked out of the room. I followed her through the mansion, up a huge staircase, down a long hallway. We stopped at a set of dark wooden doors.

Margaret knocked once. "Nathan? Grace is here."

"Send her in." The voice from inside was deep and cold.

Margaret opened the door and gestured for me to enter. Then she left, closing the door behind me.

The study was massive. Bookshelves lined the walls. A huge desk sat in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. And behind that desk sat Nathan Hunt.

He looked up from his laptop. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Nathan Hunt was nothing like Ryan. Ryan was soft, kind, approachable. Nathan was all sharp edges. Cold gray eyes. Dark hair. A face that looked like it never smiled. He wore a black suit and a watch that probably cost more than everything I owned.

He stood up. He was tall, at least six feet. Intimidating.

"Grace Miller." He said my name like he was reading it from a list.

"Mr. Hunt."

"Sit." He gestured to the chair across from his desk.

I sat. He sat. We stared at each other.

"My mother explained the arrangement?" he asked.

"She did."

"And?"

"And I think it's insane."

"But you're here."

"I'm here to understand what this actually means. If I agree, what exactly would I be agreeing to?"

Nathan leaned back in his chair. "Simple. We get married in six days. You move into my house. We attend social functions together and act like a married couple in public. In private, we stay out of each other's way. No complications. No feelings. After one year, we divorce. You get your money. I keep my company. Everyone wins."

"Except it's all a lie."

"It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. I prefer to think of it as honest."

"Honest?" I couldn't help the bitter laugh. "We'd be lying to everyone."

"We'd be honest with each other. That's what matters." He studied me with those cold eyes. "Let me be clear, Grace. I'm not looking for a real wife. I don't want romance or love or whatever fantasy you might have. This is business. Nothing more. Can you handle that?"

His bluntness should have offended me. Instead, it made things clearer. He wasn't pretending this was something it wasn't.

"I can handle it," I said. "But I need time to think."

"You have until tonight. Eight PM. If you're coming back, I'll know your answer is yes. If you don't come, I'll know it's no."

"That's not much time."

"It's all the time I have. The wedding is in six days, Grace. I need to know now if I should start looking for someone else."

I stood up. "Fine. Tonight."

I walked to the door. My hand was on the handle when Nathan spoke again.

"Grace."

I turned.

"Don't say yes because my mother pressured you. Don't say yes because you're scared. If you do this, do it because you've decided it's worth it. Otherwise, we'll both regret it."

I didn't know what to say. So I just nodded and left.

The bus ride home felt like a dream. Two million dollars. One year. A fake marriage to a cold stranger.

When I walked into the apartment, Bella was at the kitchen table with her laptop. She looked up and smiled. "How did it go?"

"Fine. She just wanted to apologize for Ryan."

"Good. Hey, I need to tell you something." Bella's smile faded. "I talked to the program director today. The tuition is due in two weeks, and we don't have it. So I'm going to defer for a year. Maybe two. I'll get a job and—"

"No."

"Grace, we can't afford it. It's okay. I can wait."

I looked at my baby sister giving up her dream for the second time in her life. First when our parents died. Now because of me.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

Eight PM. Don't be late. - Margaret Hunt

I looked at Bella. At our tiny apartment. At the life we'd built on nothing but hope and hard work.

Then I looked at my phone.

I knew what I had to do.