Chapter 1
St. Augustine's Inn, Royal Chamber. “Mom... what if my sister refuses to marry him? Isn’t it too extreme to just drag her here?” The young woman clutched the older woman’s arm, her face a mixture of concern and defiance. “What’s extreme about it? We’re doing this for her own good. If we don’t, how will she ever agree to marry Lord Vincent Grey?” The older woman glanced toward the figure sprawled on the bed, her eyes lacking warmth. “But… will Sister resent us for it when she wakes up?” The young woman bit her lip, hesitating. “Eventually, she’ll see we mean well. She grew up in the slums. If we hadn’t brought her to Lockwood Hall, not only would marrying into a wealthy family be a dream, but mingling with high society would be out of reach! The Grey family is noble in Seaford; marrying into them guarantees her a comfortable life. Isn’t that what's best for her?” The woman squeezed her daughter’s hand, her voice steady. “Besides, if she doesn’t marry, who will tackle Alistair Blackwood for you? The Hawthorne family is no joke. If your sister marries into that family without knowing the right etiquette, she could embarrass us all!” “You were raised to be the perfect lady by Mom, far more suited for Alistair than your sister. Didn’t he say he preferred you last time? Don’t you want to marry him?” Eleanor Lockwood, lying on the bed, stirred from her slumber, overhearing the scheming whispers of her mother, Flora Bannister, and her sister, Isabella Lockwood. A sharp pang of despair pierced her heart. Why, why were they doing this to her? Just because she didn’t shine as brightly as Isabella? They had switched her at birth. Growing up in the filth of the slums, she knew hunger and the cruel hand of an abusive father, while Isabella enjoyed all the luxuries that should have been hers. It wasn’t until she turned sixteen that she was retrieved from Lockwood Hall. She had wished for a warm, loving family, but the reality was a cruel illusion. Her parents had never accepted her as their daughter, always favoring Isabella who was polished to be a debutante, more capable of securing a rich husband, which brought pride to the Lockwood name. Yet, despite all of this, she never held a grudge against them or her sister. She never considered that they might not be satisfied knowing she had a boyfriend, that they would drag her unconscious to a hotel and force her to marry this loser, just to pave the way for Alistair and Isabella. How ironic! Tears streamed down her cheeks. Eleanor was engulfed in a terror and helplessness she had never encountered before. She struggled to sit up, only to discover her limbs bound and duct tape gagging her mouth. She noticed she was dressed in a wedding gown that was completely foreign to her. They were determined to make her marry that Lord Vincent! No, she wouldn’t let them achieve their goal. Footsteps echoed outside the door, and the voices of Isabella and Flora faded as they exited the room. Moments later, the door swung open, and in swaggered the rather portly Lord Vincent Grey, wearing a sleazy grin and eagerly rubbing his hands together. Eleanor’s eyes widened in horror as she squirmed against her bindings. “Why the panic? Don’t turn away now; come here and let me hold you!” Lord Vincent sneered. “My dad’s the head honcho at Grey Enterprises. Marrying me means you get the good life—everything your heart desires.” “You, a girl from the slums, should be elated at this opportunity!” With that, he ripped the tape from Eleanor’s mouth and lunged at her. Feeling utterly powerless, she suppressed her nausea and struggled to stay calm. “If I have to marry you because my parents promised it, I’ll accept. But can you at least untie me first?” “Oh, you're good at flattering me,” he said with a smug grin, believing it was better to keep her tied up. But he relented, untying her, then lunged toward her hungrily. To his surprise, Eleanor seized the moment, biting down hard on his arm. He yelped in pain, abruptly tossing her aside. Seizing the brief window of opportunity, Eleanor scrambled to the window and leapt out! She would rather die than marry this pathetic man or play the role they had scripted for her! Lord Vincent’s face blanched as he dashed to the window, poking his head out to yell, “Have you completely lost it? Jumping from the fifth floor? Seriously?!” In that instant, as she leaped, Eleanor felt an exhilarating sense of freedom wash over her. Sunlight enveloped her and she felt liberated. Suddenly, she was caught by a cascading white veil, pink roses scattering around her, wrapping her in a floral embrace. “Splash!” She landed hard in the Serpentine Wells, the petals swirling around her. At that moment, a hand emerged before her, reaching down to pull her up. Still disoriented, Eleanor instinctively flinched in fear. The owner of the hand chuckled, “Looks like our bride is a bit shy and isn’t keen on being rescued.” “Our Goddess truly knows how to make an entrance—so unique, her guests will be left waiting in suspense.” “She is stunning, although it’s a shame we just wasted a pool, haha!” The man’s playful banter drew laughs from the surrounding crowd. Eleanor snapped back to reality, horrified to realize she had crashed someone else’s wedding?! She found herself in an elaborate hotel garden, infused with luxury and taste. If she remembered right, this was a private area of the hotel, accessible only for significant spending. To hold a wedding here was a rare luxury. Had she just ruined someone’s big day? In a panic, she sprang to her feet, her face aflame with embarrassment, and instinctively made to flee. The emcee gallantly stopped her, “Hey, does our bride want to play hide and seek? The groom is waiting!” Laughter bubbled up once again from the guests. Not far away stood Alistair Blackwood, clad in a pristine white suit, his facial expression severe, having witnessed Eleanor's fall from the hotel window. His brow knitted in concern as he spoke in a low voice, “This can’t keep happening. I won’t be left here forever waiting for you. If you choose your career over love, I wish you the best. Just know I won’t be here forever.” Someone on the other end of his phone seemed to protest, but he ignored them, hanging up as he strode toward the pool.
Chapter 2
“Come here.” The man's voice was deep and melodic, carrying an unmistakable authority that made it hard to refuse. His handsome face bore a hint of coldness as he lowered his gaze, towering over Eleanor Lockwood. Her throat tightened as she stammered, “I’m sorry, sir, for interrupting your wedding…” Alistair Blackwood hesitated for a moment, taken aback that she, having fallen the hardest, was the one apologizing. Seeing her remain silent, he bent down and lifted her out of the water. The officiant started a round of teasing, and soon the gawking guests began to join in, drawn to the spectacle. The atmosphere was light and cheerful, but Eleanor Lockwood felt like she was dying of embarrassment. With her hands clutching his shirt collar, she lowered her voice, saying, “I didn’t mean to ruin your wedding. You don’t have to worry about me. Just put me down; I can walk on my own.” She struggled to free herself from Alistair Blackwood’s embrace, pulling up her already soaked skirt as she wobbled away. Suddenly, a crowd gathered around the garden gates, led by Flora Bannister and Isabella Lockwood, flanked by several bodyguards. “Let us in! We need to talk to someone urgently!” “This area isn’t open to just anyone!” a guard barked, blocking their path. “Get lost; you're wasting our time!” All eyes turned toward the ruckus, and Eleanor's heart raced as she recognized Flora’s voice—it was bad news. Even though Flora was held back by the security, her determination showed that she wasn’t going to leave until she got inside. If Eleanor went out now, she could be facing yet another forced confrontation! After a brief internal struggle, she turned to Alistair and said, “I’m really sorry for disrupting your day, but could you help me just this once?” “My parents want me to marry someone I don’t want to. I can’t find anyone else to help me; you’re my only option.” Water dripped from her, her body trembling slightly, looking like a frightened little rabbit. Seeing the redness in her eyes stirred something in Alistair Blackwood. He glanced coldly at the onlookers before saying in a low voice, “I can help you, but there’s a condition: You have to pretend to be my bride and help me finish this wedding.” “Whether it's acting or being the real deal, if you agree, I won’t only scare them away but also fulfill any requests you have. How’s that sound?” Years of living in Lockwood Hall had taught Eleanor Lockwood patience and the art of compromise. She didn’t have any strong desires; Alistair’s later promises didn’t really sway her. She just wanted to escape this predicament. It seemed he was the only person she could turn to right now. “Fine, I’ll do it,” she replied, offering her name. “I’m Eleanor Lockwood.” “Alistair Blackwood,” he stated coldly, giving a slight nod to his bodyguards. Recognizing the cue, the guards swung open the grand gates to the garden! Wasn’t this inviting trouble? As Eleanor opened her mouth to protest, Alistair, unfazed by her drenched clothes, firmly held her hand. “Don’t be scared.” Just then, Flora and a few others rushed in, her eyes wide with concern. “Oh my God, I was so worried! I can’t believe you fell in! We need to get you to the hospital and check if you’re okay!”
Chapter 3
Eleanor Lockwood let out a cold laugh. If she hadn’t heard those words with her own ears, she might have thought she was dealing with a doting mother. “I'm not going back with you, and I’m definitely not marrying that Lord Vincent Grey. So just give up!” Isabella Lockwood approached her sister, her voice soft and soothing. “Eleanor, I promise I’ll explain everything later. Let’s just get out of here for now.” Flora Bannister quickly nodded in agreement. “Exactly, the groom and guests are still waiting. We can't let them think we’ve made a scene.” Eleanor tugged at Alistair Blackwood’s sleeve, speaking in a low voice. “I don’t know him. They’re forcing me to do this. Please, can you help me get rid of them?” She wasn’t sure if Alistair would believe her, but he was her only hope at that moment. Alistair gently took her hand, a thin smile forming on his lips. “So you’re barging in here to take her away, expecting that the House of Blackwood is just going to sit back and let it happen?” Flora and Isabella exchanged bewildered glances. The House of Blackwood... there was only one in Seaford, and it was the only one capable of hosting a wedding here! This little meddler seemed to be just a quiet girl, yet somehow had become entangled with the House of Blackwood. If this spiraled out of control, it could only lead to more trouble down the line. Flora took a bold step forward, furrowing her brow. “Mr. Blackwood, I mean no offense, but that is my daughter. Today is her wedding day, and I must take her home.” A murmur spread through the audience. “Wait, she’s not Lady Genevieve Fairchild? I thought she was! Isn’t she Alistair’s real girlfriend?” “They say Alistair has stood her up twice just to be with Lady Genevieve—now it seems he’s switched to this one instead!” “Maybe this woman is the real deal, and Lady Genevieve is just a cover-up.” “But who are these people? Is Alistair actually stealing her away?” Ignoring the gossip, Eleanor spoke clearly. “I just want to be with him. Leave us alone.” “Did you hear that?” Alistair’s piercing eyes narrowed dangerously. “She said to get lost.” His presence was formidable; even a mere glance was enough to convey authority. Flora trembled slightly, trying to muster her courage. “Are you trying to drive me crazy? We’ve worked so hard for your wedding, and now you want to push me away?” She continued, her voice shaking with emotion. “I want you to be happy, so I made this decision for you! It feels like you’re stabbing me in the heart!” The crowd buzzed with speculation, each one waiting to see what Eleanor truly wanted. The only person unaffected by the chaos was Alistair, who looked on with disdain and mockery. “Let them leave.” He turned to Eleanor, his voice devoid of regret. Flora and Isabella fought against the bodyguards, calling out for Eleanor's name. Alistair quietly covered her ears and whispered, “Go change your dress.” In a flash, Eleanor slipped into a fresh, stylish gown that fit her perfectly. Standing before the crowd again, she looked exquisite, her delicate features framed by a dress that equally suited her charm. Alistair shifted his gaze back to the crowd, declaring for all to hear, “From now on, Eleanor is my wife.” Throughout the ceremony, Eleanor moved like a puppet, mechanically following the officiant’s lead. In her heart, only one question lingered: Did Lydia Hawthorne truly no longer care for her, or had she lost her place in Lydia’s heart altogether?
Chapter 4
The wedding was over, and as soon as they stepped backstage, Alistair Blackwood let go of her hand. He had remained stoic during the ceremony, but now his expression was even colder. In the quiet room, Alistair's phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the caller ID before turning to Eleanor Lockwood, his voice emotionless. “Stay put. Someone will take you home in a bit.” He didn't wait for Eleanor's response and hurried off, his purpose clear. “What’s going on?” he answered the call, his tone icy. “You really got married? This isn’t some joke?” Lady Genevieve Fairchild’s voice came through, nearly breaking under the weight of her emotion. Their wedding had attracted massive attention, with dozens of cameras and drones capturing every moment, and it was already trending online, stirring gossip and speculation. “What was I supposed to do?” Alistair replied, barely caring. “It was always going to be this way.” “But you loved me! We were meant to be! Why couldn't you just wait for me?” Lady Genevieve's voice cracked, her sobs almost making her speech unintelligible. “I—I’ll quit everything and come back. Just marry me! I love you!” A fleeting darkness crossed Alistair’s face as he lowered his voice. “Once the arrow is released, there’s no going back. It’s too late.” Lady Genevieve’s composure shattered completely; the dignified facade she typically maintained crumbled as she cried out desperately. Alistair frowned, listening to her wails without a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. From Eleanor's vantage point, she could only see Alistair’s profile—tall, elegant, a picture of aristocratic beauty. He had said someone would take her home, but she didn’t even know where home was anymore. She was a castaway from her family, aimless and lost. Today, he chose to marry her, but it felt more like a last resort than a true commitment. The one on the phone was probably the real bride of this wedding. Suddenly, Eleanor felt like a superfluous presence in this moment. She walked out of the backstage area in a daze, her mind foggy. Just when she thought she might lose herself in the haze, a hand grabbed her shoulder. “Eleanor!” a voice called, laced with concern. “You really married into the House of Blackwood? You don't care about me anymore?” She turned to see a handsome face, worry etched in his eyes. A flicker of hope ignited in Eleanor’s heart, but it quickly turned to dread as he lowered his voice. “What about you? Are you really with Isabella Lockwood? Did you know this was going to happen?” Lydia Hawthorne’s expression shifted, a storm of emotions flashing across his face. He anxiously gripped Eleanor's shoulders, trying to explain. “It's not what you think. This was my family's decision. I can't inherit the company unless I marry Isabella.” “I’ve fought so many battles just to be with you, but I have no choice! Only Isabella can inherit the Lockwood fortune. I may not like her, but can I really dictate the course of my life?” His words rang hollow in the stark reality of his compliance. Eleanor felt a sharp pain pierce her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the flood of tears. She had no claim to her father’s legacy, as the flesh-and-blood daughter. The people she once trusted most—her family and the man she loved—saw her only as a means to an end, treating her like a dispensable tool. “I truly love you! Please, don’t go through with the marriage. Wait for me! Once I inherit the company, I’ll come for you,” Lydia said earnestly, desperation coloring his plea.
Chapter 5
“Does it mean I have to marry Lord Vincent Grey if I don’t marry Alistair Blackwood? Lydia Hawthorne, I can’t believe you’d stoop this low. If you don’t love him, why pretend? Just tell him you want to break up instead of dragging me into this mess!” Eleanor Lockwood held back her hurt, her voice icy. “My engagement to Alistair is a done deal. Go ahead and be with whoever you want, it’s not my problem. Let’s part ways, and never mind each other again.” With that, she turned on her heel and strode away. Lydia Hawthorne, in a panic, clutched at her sleeve. “Please don’t go! Just hear me out!” Her shirt was laced around the collar and cuffs, delicate and fragile. In her haste, Lydia pulled too hard, tearing a large section of Eleanor's collar. Eleanor gasped, instinctively covering her chest to avoid an embarrassing reveal. “Sorry, Eleanor! I’m just... I’m terrified of losing you. Please don’t leave me!” Lydia continued to hold onto her hand. At that moment, a tall figure approached from a distance, striding forward decisively. With an emotionless expression, he draped his suit jacket over Eleanor’s shoulders, firmly gripping her wrist and yanking her toward him. Eleanor stumbled and fell into his embrace. “Trying to steal someone on my turf? You’re the first to try that.” Alistair Blackwood’s haughty demeanor bore a flicker of anger as he spoke in a low tone. Lydia’s expression shifted, but she stood her ground, refusing to shrink back. “Mr. Blackwood, hello. Eleanor is my girlfriend. It’s only natural for me to take her with me.” “Natural? The fact that I’m standing here is both a matter of affection and principle.” Alistair’s gaze shimmered dangerously, a depth of intensity underlying his words. “Did you ask me first before trying to take her?” His words were barely out when a group of bodyguards surged forward, forming a barrier around Lydia. Panic flashed across Lydia’s face as she lowered her voice. “Eleanor, is he forcing you? Just say the word, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of here.” “Lady Fairchild and Isabella are worried about you, too. They’re afraid you’ll make a mistake. Just listen to me, okay?” At that point, Eleanor couldn’t take in anything he was saying. She was acutely aware that those two didn’t have her best interests at heart, and asking her to go back was surely a trap. She took a step back, her face set in rejection. Alistair Blackwood seemed to catch on instantly. “If you want to leave, then leave. If not, I’ll have to make sure you’re kept away from here.” The bodyguards advanced ominously, ready to act at a moment’s notice. Lydia trembled, fear clear in her eyes. “Eleanor, you’re just destroying your own life!” She raised her voice, desperate and heartbroken. Yet Alistair had already wrapped his arm tightly around Eleanor’s shoulder, turning his back on her as he walked away. “It’s all sorted out. I’ll arrange for someone to take you back later.” Not long after, Alistair’s expression shifted back to its familiar coldness, as if he intended to return her. Eleanor shook her head. “I don’t have anywhere to go. I used to live at home, but I’ve had a falling out with them.” Looking at her expression, Alistair's resolve softened significantly. “Then come to my place. The wedding’s done, so we’ll at least be seen as a legal couple.” Eleanor let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Though she didn’t want to burden him, she truly had no other options. Aside from Alistair, she had no idea who else she could rely on. Before long, he led her to Hacienda del Medio. At the entrance hung a small sign that was completely out of place against the villa's décor, scrawled in a playful, child-like font: “The Northflower Cottage.” Naturally, that referred to Alistair, while the “” hinted at the real bride. Everywhere she looked around the living room and bedroom were the unmistakable signs of femininity—her presence was evident. The level of organization revealed just how much thought had gone into preparing. Eleanor couldn’t help but feel a swell of emotions, sighing lightly. “It’s such a shame you couldn’t marry the woman you love. If she knew you planned all this so thoughtfully, she’d probably regret her choice, wouldn’t she?”
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