Two hours to be his bride

Two hours

Elena’s POV

I stared at the wedding dress as though it had personally offended me.

It was beautiful and that was the problem. I had no business wearing a dress that cost over a thousand dollars.

The ivory gown hung from the dressing room door, covered in delicate lace and tiny crystals that caught the light whenever I moved. The train was long enough to sweep across the floor behind me, and the fitted bodice looked like it had been designed specifically for Vivienne not me.

My inferiority complex came and I took a step backward.

“I can’t do this.” I gulped

Margaret Laurent’s expression hardened.

“You can, and you will.” She frowned.

“But I’m not her.”

“No one needs to know that.”

Her words made my stomach twist then I looked toward Victoria.

She was standing near the window, speaking quietly into her phone. She looked completely composed now, as though the missing bride was merely an inconvenience she intended to solve before lunch.

That even frightened me more than her anger, she was one cold woman.

“Mrs. Sinclair,” I began carefully.

She ended her call and looked at me.

“Victoria.” She corrected sternly.

She hated when anyone reminded her that she was getting older.

I swallowed.

“Victoria… what happens if Damian knows?”

“Then you convince him otherwise.”

My mouth fell open.

“How?”

“That is your problem.” She said and turned away from me.

I stared at her blankly.

Of course.

Why had I expected an actual answer?

A maid approached me cautiously.

“Miss Hart, we need to start.”

I looked at the clock, 1:08pm. We had less than two hours.

My life had apparently become a countdown.

“Fine” I turned back to the dress.

The word barely left my mouth before three maids surrounded me.

One began unzipping my dress.

Another removed the simple earrings I’d worn that morning.

The third carried Vivienne’s shoes toward me.

Everything happened so quickly that I barely had time to breathe.

“Wait.”

They stopped.

I looked at Margaret.

“What am I supposed to say if someone asks me something only Vivienne would know?”

She paused before she answered.

“You’ve worked for her for three years.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m Vivienne.” I countered.

Margaret walked toward me.

“Vivienne has always been difficult to read. Most people don’t know her as well as they think they do.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You know her habits, her preferences, her family. You can do this.”

I almost laughed. I wasn’t sure whether she was reassuring me or herself.

Then she said something that made me go still.

“And Elena…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t embarrass us.”

There it was.

Not “please help us”. Not “I’m sorry we’re putting you through this”

“Don’t embarrass us”, this was why I hated the rich sometimes.

I looked away and the maids resumed their work.

Within minutes, my ordinary dress was gone then came the corset.

“Is this really necessary?” I asked breathlessly.

“It is part of the dress.” The maid answered quietly.

“I can’t breathe.”

“You’ll get used to it.” She answered.

I see why Vivienne fled.

The lace was tightened around my waist until I barely recognized my own reflection.

Then they began working on my hair…

Vivienne always wore hers in loose waves, so that’s what they did to mine.

Then makeup followed, foundation, powder, eyeshadow, lipstick.

I watched my reflection change piece by piece and it was unsettling.

The woman staring back at me looked familiar but she didn’t look like Elena Hart.

She looked like someone who belonged in this mansion, someone who belonged beside Damian Sinclair, someone who had no idea she was standing in another woman’s life.

“Done.”

I looked up and the maids stepped away.

For a moment, nobody spoke, I just quietly stared at myself in the mirror at the dress fit perfectly, too perfectly.

My heart began beating faster.

I looked like Vivienne, not exactly but enough.

Enough to fool strangers and cameras and enough to make this terrible plan possible.

Margaret’s eyes softened for the first time. “Vivienne.”

I turned sharply.

She immediately corrected herself.

“Elena.”

But the hesitation had already happened and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

A knock sounded at the door and everyone froze.

One of the maids hurried to open it and it was Nicholas Sinclair standing outside.

I’d seen him a few times during the wedding preparations, but we’d never spoken for more than a few seconds.

He looked from the maids to Margaret then his eyes landed on me and his eyebrows rose.

“Well…”

Margaret immediately stepped between us.

“What do you want, Nicholas?”

“Mother sent me to find out if the bride is ready.”

“She is.”

His eyes moved back to me and there was something amused in his expression.

“Apparently.”

I lowered my gaze and he tilted his head.

“Vivienne, you look…”

He stopped.

“Different?”

“Different.”

Margaret’s expression warned him not to continue so Nicholas just smiled.

“Beautiful.” He corrected himself.

“Thank you.” The words came out automatically, I could get used to this.

His smile faded slightly and something in his eyes changed.

For one terrifying second, I wondered if he’d noticed.

Then he shrugged “Damian is waiting downstairs.”

My stomach dropped when I heard the name, I had suddenly remembered who I was supposed to be pretending to marry.

“Actually, he’s been waiting for a while.” Nicholas glanced at his watch.

Margaret stepped forward. “Tell him everything is under control.”

Nicholas laughed.

“Umm nothing about today is under control.” He replied then he walked away.

That was exactly what I was thinking.

“You’re going downstairs” Margaret turned to me.

“Now?” My throat tightened.

“The guests are waiting.”

I looked at the clock, 1:42pm.

Eighteen minutes until the ceremony and eighteen minutes to become Vivienne Laurent.

I stepped out of the dressing room.

The hallway was crowded with staff rushing in every direction.

Someone adjusted my veil while someone else handed me a bouquet.

I barely registered any of it then the ballroom doors opened and noise flooded the hallway.

There was loud music, conversation, laughter, camera shutters and hundreds of people.

“This is a mistake” I stopped walking.

“Keep moving” Margaret grabbed my arm

“I can’t.”

“You can” she scolded.

“What if I fall?”

“Then stand up.”

“What if someone recognizes me?”

“No one will.”

“What if Damian” I said uncertainly.

“He won’t.” She pushed me gently forward and suddenly, I was walking.

Every step toward the ballroom felt like a step toward a cliff.

I could see the aisle now, it had white flowers lined both sides, how beautiful!

Guests turned in their seats and whispers spread through the room and the orchestra began playing while I tightened my grip around the bouquet.

At the end of the aisle stood a man, it was Damian Sinclair.

I’d seen photographs of him and caught glances of him before but they hadn’t prepared me.

He was taller than I expected, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, his expression unreadable.

He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t looking at the guests, he was looking directly at me, that slowed my footsteps.

Something about his gaze made me feel as though he could see through the dress, through the makeup and through the entire lie.

I forced myself to keep walking. One step, then another, very gently.

His eyes remained fixed on mine till I reached the altar and the music stopped.

Silence filled the ballroom and Damian looked at me for several seconds.

Then his gaze moved over my face. My hair, the dress, the bouquet.

He leaned slightly toward me as I held my breath.

His voice was quiet enough that only I could hear him..

“Where is Vivienne?”