CHAPTER FOUR
1135 Words
The morning sun poured through the tall windows of Lila’s room, but she didn’t move.
She lay curled beneath the plush covers, one arm shielding her eyes. Every muscle in her body ached from tension, and her mind hadn’t stopped racing since the confrontation with Damien the night before.
But sleep wouldn’t come. Not with the pressure of Friday night looming over her.
The gala.
Two hundred guests. A hall full of socialites, CEOs, reporters, and critics. And every single one of them would be watching her.
Not because they cared who she was—but because she had somehow become Mrs. Damien Blackwood.
She didn’t belong in their world. She wasn’t glamorous. She wasn’t polished. And she certainly wasn’t trained for high society.
The moment she slipped, they’d smell the truth on her.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
“Come in,” she called out, sitting up and brushing her hair behind her ears.
The door opened to reveal a slim woman in her mid-thirties with sharp cheekbones, glasses, and a clipboard in hand. She wore a sleek black dress and a faint air of judgment.
“Miss Hart?” the woman asked, eyeing her.
“Lila,” she corrected softly.
“I’m Elise. Mr. Blackwood’s assistant. I’ve been assigned to help you prepare for the gala. We have four days to turn you into someone the public believes is his wife.”
Lila raised a brow. “That’s quite a job title.”
Elise didn’t smile. “I don’t joke about my work. Shall we begin?”
The next three days were a blur.
Mornings began with speech coaching and etiquette lessons. How to smile without seeming fake. How to stand without fidgeting. How to walk in heels without wobbling like a newborn deer.
Afternoons were wardrobe fittings. Damien had hired a luxury stylist to curate a temporary “image” for Lila—complete with designer dresses, heels, jewelry, and accessories that probably cost more than her student debt.
They didn’t ask her opinion. They just dressed her like she was a mannequin.
The first time she stepped in front of the mirror wearing a floor-length black silk gown, she barely recognized herself.
Her shoulders were bare, her hair swept up in soft curls, a diamond necklace catching the light at her collarbone.
She looked… elegant.
But she didn’t feel like herself.
“Better,” Elise said flatly. “Still needs posture work.”
Lila sighed and turned back to the mirror. “Do any of these people care about who I am at all?”
“You’re not supposed to be you,” Elise said matter-of-factly. “You’re Mrs. Blackwood now. That’s a role. Play it well.”
And that’s what it was—a role.
Every lesson, every fitting, every correction was just rehearsal for a grand performance. But even if she pulled it off, Lila couldn’t shake the fear that someone would look into her eyes and see the girl underneath—the one with calloused hands and unpaid bills, not diamonds and designer shoes.
On Thursday evening, she finally saw Damien again.
She was in the drawing room, trying to balance in four-inch heels while sipping tea and practicing small talk with Elise. She’d just recited a line about the Blackwood Foundation’s latest scholarship fund when she heard the door open.
Damien entered, dressed in charcoal slacks and a gray shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His tie hung loose at his collar as if he’d just finished a meeting.
His gaze swept over her—and paused.
For the first time, he seemed to look at her.
Not with scrutiny.
But with something that almost resembled… surprise.
Lila stood straighter under his stare, resisting the urge to shrink into herself.
“Elise,” Damien said. “Leave us.”
Elise nodded stiffly and exited, heels clicking down the hall.
Once they were alone, he stepped further into the room.
“You’ve changed,” he said.
“Into someone else?” she asked quietly.
“No. Just… someone I didn’t expect.”
She searched his face. “Is that a compliment?”
“I don’t give compliments,” he said flatly.
“Of course not,” she murmured, setting her teacup down. “That would make you seem human.”
His mouth curved—just a little. “The dress suits you. And the heels.”
“So I’m your trophy wife now?” she said, forcing a smile. “Do I pass inspection?”
He walked over to the window, hands in his pockets. “You’ll do fine. The media will eat it up. The contrast. The underdog story.”
Lila’s stomach turned. “You’re using me as a brand refresh.”
“I’m using you as a shield,” he corrected. “They don’t get to ask why I’m not dating supermodels anymore. Or why I’ve been dodging boardroom questions about my personal life.”
“And I’m just your answer,” she said bitterly.
“You agreed to this.”
She nodded. “I did.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Damien turned, his expression unreadable. “Tomorrow night isn’t just about smiling for the cameras. You’ll meet real people. Ones who can ruin reputations with a single rumor.”
“I’ve been judged my whole life,” she said softly. “Just not by people who wear diamonds while doing it.”
He watched her for a moment. “You’re stronger than you look.”
“You’re colder than you act.”
That surprised him—and it showed.
But instead of denying it, Damien gave a slight nod.
“Wear the silver dress. It photographs better under the chandeliers.”
And with that, he left.
Friday came too fast.
Lila stood in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection in disbelief.
The dress was silver silk, off the shoulder with a fitted waist and a slit that revealed just enough leg to make her nervous. Her hair was pinned into soft waves. Her makeup was flawless, smoky but subtle. Her lips were painted red.
A knock came at the door.
This time, it was Damien.
He stood there in a black tuxedo, crisp and immaculate. She’d never seen someone look so polished. So untouchable.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then his eyes met hers, and something flickered there—brief but real.
“Ready?” he asked.
She inhaled deeply. “No. But let’s go anyway.”
He extended his arm. She hesitated, then took it.
His hand was warm. Solid. Steady.
As they descended the grand staircase, photographers waited at the base, cameras already flashing through the mansion’s open doors.
Lila’s heart pounded.
This was it.
The curtain was rising.
Time to become the billionaire’s wife.
- Writer
