THE PERFECT EXCHANGE

The Sacrifice

Emma’s pov

"I need time to think," I whispered.

"We don't have time!" Dad's grip on my shoulders tightened. "The engagement party is in two days, Emma. Two days to prepare you, to get you ready, to make you into the bride Zayn Lancaster expects. Every second we waste is a second closer to losing everything."

I closed my eyes, feeling the trap closing around me. There was no escape. No way out.

Lily had run away and left me to clean up her mess, just like she always did. And I, the dutiful daughter who never caused problems, was going to fix it.

"If I do this," I said slowly, opening my eyes to meet Dad's desperate gaze, "I want something in return."

His expression shifted, became wary. "What do you want?"

"My own bank account. Money that's mine, that you can't touch or control." I'd watched my mother become financially dependent, powerless in her own life. I wouldn't let that happen to me. "And I keep painting. I don't care what society expects from Mrs. Zayn Lancaster. My art is mine, and I'm not giving it up."

Dad nodded immediately. "Done. Anything else?"

I thought about it. About the life I was about to walk into, the stranger I was about to marry, the lie I was about to live.

"I want the complete truth about the company," I said. "Every debt, every creditor, every detail. If I'm sacrificing my life to save Monroe Industries, I deserve to know exactly what I'm saving."

Dad hesitated, then nodded again. "After the engagement party. Once the deal is secure, I'll tell you everything."

"Before," I insisted. "I want to know now.

Before I walk into that party and lie to Zayn Lancaster's face."

We stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Dad sighed.

"We owe seventeen billion dollars to various creditors," he said flatly. "Banks, investors, business partners. Some of them are getting impatient. Some of them are threatening legal action. The man you heard last night? He represents a group of investors who want their money back immediately. They've given us sixty days before they start liquidating our assets."

My stomach turned. "Seventeen billion. How did it get that bad?"

"Bad investments in overseas markets. A development deal that fell through. Partners who took their money and ran." He rubbed his face with both hands. "I kept thinking I could fix it. That the next deal would save us. But every move I made just dug us deeper."

"And Zayn Lancaster's investment would cover all of it?"

"More than cover it. He's offering one hundred and thirty-six billion, enough to pay off every debt and rebuild the company from the ground up. But only if the marriage happens. Only if his family and our family are united."

I felt sick. I was worth billion dollars to my father. That was my value. The difference between bankruptcy and salvation.

"Okay," I heard myself say. "I'll do it."

Dad's relief was palpable. "Thank you, Emma. Thank you so much. You're saving us. You're—"

"Don't," I cut him off. "Don't thank me. Don't pretend this is some noble sacrifice. I'm doing this because I have no other choice. Because you and Lily have backed me into a corner where saying no means watching everything burn."

I turned and walked out of Lily's room, leaving my father standing there alone.

The next two days were absolute hell.

Mom and a team of stylists descended on me like a swarm of bees. They raided Lily's closet, pulling out dresses and shoes and jewelry. Everything was too big on me. Lily was taller, curvier, more conventionally beautiful in every way. Her clothes hung on my smaller frame like I was a child playing dress-up.

A seamstress was called in emergency. She worked through the night, taking in waists, shortening hems, making Lily's wardrobe fit my body. I stood like a mannequin for hours while she pinned and tucked and sewed.

A hair stylist came the next morning. She studied my face, comparing it to photos of Lily on her phone.

"Your hair is different," she muttered. "Lily's is lighter, more golden. Yours is darker, more brown."

"Can you fix it?" Mom asked anxiously.

The stylist nodded. "Highlights. Lots of them. And we'll style it the same way Lily wore it at her meeting with Zayn. He'll recognize the look."

So I sat for four hours while the stylist bleached and colored and styled my hair into something that resembled Lily's. When she finally spun me around to face the mirror, I barely recognized myself.

A makeup artist came next. She painted my face with more makeup than I'd ever worn in my life. Dramatic eyes, contoured cheeks, red lips. By the time she finished, I looked like a stranger. Like someone trying very hard to be Lily and almost succeeding.

"You look beautiful," Mom whispered, tears streaming down her face.

I looked like a fraud.

The day of the engagement party arrived too quickly. I woke up feeling sick to my stomach. This was really happening. In a few hours, I would walk into a room full of Manhattan's elite and pretend to be my sister. I would meet Zayn Lancaster for the first time and lie to his face.

The dress they'd chosen was one of Lily's favorites. Silver, elegant, sophisticated. It fit perfectly after the alterations, hugging my body in ways my usual paint-stained jeans never did. The stylist came back to do my hair and makeup, recreating the look from yesterday.

When I finally looked in the mirror, I saw Lily staring back at me. Or at least, a close approximation. Someone who could pass as Lily Monroe if you didn't look too closely.

"Remember," Dad said as we prepared to leave. "You're nervous, excited, a little overwhelmed. That's natural for a bride at her engagement party. Let me do most of the talking. Just smile and be gracious."

"What if he asks me questions about our meeting?" I asked. "The meeting I wasn't at?"

"Keep your answers vague. You were nervous that day, everything was a blur. Most people's memories of first meetings are fuzzy anyway."

Mom adjusted my necklace with trembling fingers. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry this is happening to you."

But she didn't tell me not to go. She didn't tell Dad this was wrong. Because she needed this just as much as he did. Her entire lifestyle depended on me walking into that party and lying.

The Lancaster estate was even more impressive in person. Massive iron gates opened to reveal a sprawling mansion that looked like something from a movie. Modern architecture, all glass and steel and sharp angles. Luxury cars lined the circular driveway. Through the enormous windows, I could see people in expensive clothes, holding champagne glasses, laughing and talking.

We walked inside, and I felt every eye turn toward us. The whispers started immediately.

"Is that Lily Monroe?"

"She looks different."

"Something's changed about her."

Dad's hand gripped my elbow tightly, steering me through the crowd. Mom walked on my other side, her practiced smile firmly in place. We looked like the perfect family, united and happy. Nobody could see the cracks beneath the surface, the lies we were all carrying.

Then I saw him.

Zayn Lancaster stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the room. He was talking to an elegant older woman who could be his mother. Even from across the crowded room, his presence was overwhelming. He was taller than I'd expected, probably six-three or six-four, with broad shoulders that filled out his perfectly tailored black suit. His dark hair was styled back from his face, showing off sharp, angular features that could have been carved from stone.

But it was his eyes that made my breath catch. Ice blue, cold and assessing, scanning the room like a predator watching prey. Those eyes landed on me, and I felt the impact like a physical blow.

Recognition flickered across his face, followed immediately by confusion. His brow furrowed slightly. He said something to his mother, his eyes never leaving mine.

He knew. Somehow, impossibly, he already knew I wasn't Lily.