THE ACCIDENTAL BRIDE

Chapter Three: Mrs. Vaughn

Luna woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains. For a second, she forgot where she was.

Then it all crashed back.

The wedding. The contract. Grayson Vaughn.

"Oh cramps," she groaned, burying her face in silk pillows. "What have I done?"

A sharp knock interrupted her crisis.

"Mrs. Vaughn?" Mrs. Patel's voice called. "Your schedule begins in thirty minutes."

Luna sat bolt upright. "Schedule?"

The door opened, and Mrs. Patel entered with two young women carrying garment bags and makeup cases.

"Breakfast is on the balcony," she said, all business. "Emma will handle your hair, Sophia your makeup. The blue dress for this morning's brunch."

"Brunch?" Luna's head spun. "With who?"

"The Miyamoto delegation, of course. Your first public appearance as Mrs. Vaughn."

Luna's stomach knotted. "Does Grayson know about this?"

"Mr. Vaughn arranged it." Mrs. Patel checked her watch. "You have twenty-eight minutes."

When they left, Luna stumbled to the bathroom—bigger than her old apartment—and stared at her reflection. Dark circles under her eyes. A fading bruise at her jawline, mostly hidden by makeup but still visible if you knew where to look.

You're representing my name, my company, my legacy.

Grayson's words echoed as she showered and let the stylists transform her. The blue dress hugged curves she usually hid. The makeup concealed every trace of her past.

"Perfect," Emma declared, stepping back.

Luna hardly recognized herself. She looked... expensive.

"Time to go," Mrs. Patel announced from the doorway.

Luna followed her through the mansion, trying to memorize the route. Left at the painting of some dead guy. Right at the weird statue. Another right...

They reached a set of glass doors overlooking a garden terrace. Through them, Luna could see Grayson standing with several Asian men in suits. He looked flawless, of course. Like he'd been born in that tailored gray suit.

"Remember," Mrs. Patel murmured. "You met three months ago at a charity gala. Whirlwind romance. You work in art restoration."

"Art what now?"

"Restoration. Mr. Marcus created your background last night."

"But I don't know anything about—"

"Just smile and deflect. Mr. Vaughn will handle the rest."

The doors opened. Every head turned.

Grayson's eyes widened almost imperceptibly when he saw her. Something flashed across his face—surprise?—before his mask slipped back into place.

"Ah, there she is," he said, his voice warm in a way Luna hadn't heard before. He crossed to her, taking her hand. "Gentlemen, my wife, Luna."

The way he said "wife" made her shiver.

He leaned in close, lips brushing her ear. "You're late," he whispered, still smiling for their audience.

"Your staff ambushed me," she whispered back, matching his fake smile.

His hand settled at the small of her back, guiding her to the table.

"Mr. Miyamoto, his son Takashi, and their legal team," Grayson introduced each man.

Luna nodded, fighting the urge to run. The older Miyamoto studied her with sharp eyes.

"Very different from the woman in the photo," he said.

Luna's heart stopped.

Grayson's grip tightened on her waist. "Photos never do justice, do they, darling?"

"Never," she managed, swallowing hard.

"Tell us," Takashi said, leaning forward, "how did you meet?"

"At a charity gala," Luna replied automatically, grateful for Mrs. Patel's coaching. "Three months ago."

"Love at first sight?" Mr. Miyamoto asked, skepticism in his voice.

Grayson's thumb traced circles against her back. A warning.

"Not exactly," Luna found herself saying. "He spilled wine on my dress, actually."

Grayson's thumb froze.

"Red wine," she continued, warming to her story. "All over my white dress. He was too busy checking his phone to watch where he was going."

The Miyamotos exchanged glances.

"I was furious," Luna said, looking up at Grayson with a sweet smile. "But he insisted on buying me a new dress."

"Did he?" Mr. Miyamoto raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yes. And then he asked for my number." She leaned against Grayson's side. "I said no."

The younger Miyamoto laughed out loud. "You rejected Grayson Vaughn?"

Grayson's jaw tightened, but his smile remained. "She played hard to get."

"I played honest," Luna corrected. "I told him I wasn't interested in arrogant rich guys who think money solves everything."

A heavy silence fell. Luna wondered if she'd gone too far off script.

Then Mr. Miyamoto threw back his head and laughed. "No wonder you married her! A woman who is not impressed by the great Grayson Vaughn? Priceless!"

The tension broke. Even Grayson's smile seemed less forced as they took their seats.

"So," Takashi asked, "what do you do, Mrs. Vaughn?"

"Art restoration," she replied, reaching for her water glass to hide her nervousness.

"Any current projects?"

Luna froze. Mrs. Patel hadn't prepared her for follow-up questions.

"Luna's between projects at the moment," Grayson cut in smoothly. "The wedding preparations took priority."

"Of course," Mr. Miyamoto nodded. "And children? Soon, perhaps?"

Luna choked on her water.

"We're enjoying being newlyweds," Grayson said, patting her back with more force than necessary. "But yes, family is important to us both."

The rest of brunch passed in a blur of small talk and forced smiles. Luna stuck to safe topics, letting Grayson field the business questions. By the time the Miyamotos left, her face hurt from smiling.

The second they were alone, Grayson's hand dropped from her waist like she'd burned him.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"What was what?"

"That story! Wine on your dress?"

Luna shrugged. "It seemed more believable than 'love at first sight.' No one falls for the ice king routine that fast."

"Ice king?" His eyes narrowed.

"Would you prefer 'robot'? Or maybe 'calculating business machine'?"

A muscle jumped in his jaw. "The point of this arrangement is to make things smooth, not complicate them with elaborate stories."

"They bought it, didn't they? Even checked my background against that photo they had."

Something flickered across his face. "You handled that well."

Was that... a compliment?

"Speaking of backgrounds," she said, crossing her arms, "art restoration? Really? I don't know anything about art."

"You'll learn the basics. Marcus has arranged a crash course."

"When?"

"This afternoon. After the photoshoot."

Luna blinked. "What photoshoot?"

"For the society pages." He checked his watch. "And you're late for that too."

"You can't just schedule my entire life without telling me!"

"I can, actually." His voice was calm. "It's in the contract you signed this morning."

"I haven't signed any—"

Mrs. Patel appeared with a folder. "Your contract, Mrs. Vaughn. Mr. Marcus had it delivered an hour ago."

Luna snatched it and flipped through pages of legal jargon until she found a signature line—with her name already on it.

"I didn't sign this," she said, face heating.

"Marcus had your signature from the marriage license," Grayson replied. "Section twelve, paragraph three. Check your schedule."

She flipped to the back pages. A full calendar blocked out in fifteen-minute increments. Art lessons. Etiquette training. Public appearances.

"This is insane," she whispered.

"This is business," he corrected. "Two hundred thousand dollars' worth of your time, to be exact."

Luna wanted to argue, but the number stopped her. Two hundred thousand. Freedom from Damien forever.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Where's this photoshoot?"

"East garden. Five minutes." He turned to leave, then paused. "By the way, that dress... suits you."

Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving her confused and oddly flustered.

Mrs. Patel cleared her throat. "This way, Mrs. Vaughn."

"Can you just call me Luna?" She sighed, following the woman back into the mansion. "Mrs. Vaughn makes me feel like I'm playing dress-up."

"That's precisely what you're doing," Mrs. Patel replied, but Luna caught the hint of a smile. "And doing it surprisingly well."

Luna thought of Grayson's face when the Miyamotos laughed at her story. For just a second, he'd looked almost human.

"Don't get used to it," she told herself. "Three months. Take the money and run."

But as she headed to the garden for yet another performance as Mrs. Vaughn, Luna couldn't shake the feeling that she was stepping into something far more dangerous than a fake marriage.

She was stepping into Grayson Vaughn's world. And people like her didn't survive in places like this.