Chapter 3: The Return of the Heiress

I swallowed, fingers twisting the dress. "Um, next…"

My voice faded. Nerves were eating me alive. I couldn’t look at him.

He loosened his tie and said, "I’m a guy, you know. I have needs."

He said it like he was talking about the weather. I felt my cheeks go nuclear. Was he serious?

Before I became a stand-in bride, I’d done my homework. Newlyweds don’t just play cards all night.

I’d Googled everything—wedding night tips, how to fake confidence, what not to say. Still, nothing could’ve prepared me for the real thing. Yikes.

Carter was seriously hot.

Even better up close. His jawline could cut glass. Those eyes? Forget it. I almost forgot how to breathe.

He had a body to match.

Let’s just say, he didn’t skip leg day. Or any day. Every inch of him was sculpted. Unreal.

Six-two, abs for days, and…well, let’s just say I wasn’t getting the short end of the stick. Not even close.

I tried not to stare, but come on. My face was on fire. Was this how all marriages started, or just mine?

The next morning, I woke up hugging the blanket, just…questioning my life choices. Seriously.

Sunlight poured in. I lay tangled in sheets, replaying everything. Was this really my life now? Wild.

Carter hugged me from behind. "What’s wrong, babe?"

His voice was rough with sleep, his arms heavy and warm around me. For a second, I just let myself melt.

"I didn’t know I was this kind of person."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Oops.

His voice was low, still sleepy. "Hm?"

He sounded amused, like he’d heard it all before.

I mumbled, "I actually slept with my husband on our wedding night… How am I so bold…"

I buried my face in the pillow, dying inside. Who even was I?

He pressed me back down, gentle but insistent.

"Second day’s fine too." He grinned. Savage.

Back then, I didn’t think anything was wrong.

It was all new, exciting. I kept telling myself I was just acting, but sometimes I forgot where the script ended.

Maybe because it was my first time, but I was a little hooked too.

I’d never felt so alive. Or so out of my depth.

Six months with Carter, then one day I just…snapped out of it.

It hit like a cold splash to the face. I was living a lie. Eventually, the truth would catch up to me. No escaping it.

Wait.

I’m not even his wife.

The realization was sharp, almost painful. I wasn’t Charlotte. Just a girl with her face.

It had been six months since the wedding.

Six months of pretending. Sometimes I wondered if I’d ever get back to the real me.

In the morning, I’d head to work at the Whitmore company.

Designer suits, endless meetings, fake smiles. Every day was a balancing act. Exhausting.

Before I left, Carter and I always kissed goodbye.

It became our little ritual—one quick kiss at the door, his hand warm on my back. For a second, I could almost believe it was real.

"Babe, I’ll pick you up today. Don’t run off."

He said it with a smile, but there was an edge. I nodded, promising. "Mm-hmm."

I gave him a mock salute, trying to lighten the mood. He just shook his head, half-smiling.

The first time Carter picked me up, I’d gone to the food court for a corn dog, chatting with the vendor and not checking my phone.

It was a Friday, the place packed. I lost track of time, talking hot sauce with the guy at the counter. My phone buzzed in my bag, ignored.

When I finally looked, there were a ton of missed calls and messages from him.