Chapter 2

Bonnie locked the door to the bridal suite, the heavy bolt sliding home with a satisfying thud. It wouldn't hold Itzel and Erwin for long, but she only needed a few minutes.

She reached under the voluminous skirt of her wedding dress, her fingers finding the clasps for the heavy crinoline cage. She undid them with practiced ease and kicked the cumbersome hoop skirt away. Then, she slipped off her satin heels and put on a pair of simple white flats she had insisted on having as a backup.

She couldn't let Arlington Townsend walk into that ceremony blind. A public humiliation would enrage him, and that rage would fall squarely on her and the Galvan family. Her only leverage, her only chance at gaining his trust, was to warn him.

She opened the door a crack, peering into the hallway. Guests in their Sunday best milled about, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. She waited for a gap, then slipped out, hugging the wall and moving down a less-trafficked side corridor.

Signs pointed the way to the groom's room, tucked away on the opposite side of the chapel. Two men in dark, impeccably tailored suits stood guard outside the door. They were built like refrigerators, their faces impassive.

One of them stepped forward as she approached, blocking her path with a polite but firm arm. "Ma'am, Mr. Townsend is not to be disturbed."

Bonnie didn't flinch. She met his gaze directly, her voice steady and clear. "I'm the bride. It's an emergency."

The guard hesitated, his professional calm wavering for a fraction of a second. He spoke quietly into a microphone on his wrist. "Sir, Ms. Galvan is here. She says it's an emergency." A moment later, a crisp, cold voice crackled through his earpiece.

"Let her in."

The guard stepped aside.

Bonnie pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dim, the air cool. And there he was. Arlington Townsend.

He was sitting in a high-tech wheelchair, his body silhouetted against the light from a stained-glass window. His long, elegant fingers rested on the armrest, perfectly still. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, were fixed on her, deep and unreadable. A chilling aura of absolute stillness surrounded him, a stark contrast to the chaos of her own rebirth.

A man with sharp features and an even sharper suit, Riley Page, stood beside him, his expression a mixture of suspicion and disapproval.

Bonnie walked towards Arlington, her flats making no sound on the thick Persian rug. She stopped a few feet in front of him, deliberately keeping her gaze level, refusing to show the pity or disgust he must be so used to seeing.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was like gravel and ice. "Are you here to say goodbye?"

So, he'd already heard the rumors. Or perhaps he was just that perceptive.

"No," Bonnie said, her tone direct. "I'm not running."

A flicker of something-surprise, maybe-crossed his features. His fingers tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest. He was assessing her.

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. "I'm here to warn you."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"In a few minutes," she continued, "when the priest asks if I take you as my husband, Erwin Woods is going to burst in and try to stop the wedding."

Arlington's gaze swept over her face, searching for any sign of a lie, any hint of a cruel joke. He found none.

"You know this," he stated, not a question. "So why aren't you with him? Why are you telling me?"

"Because Erwin Woods is a worthless piece of trash," Bonnie said, the words sharp and honest. "And I need the power of the Townsend name to save my family."

The blunt, transactional nature of her confession seemed to disarm him. He despised hypocrisy, and she had just laid her cards on the table.

A ghost of a smile, cold and sharp, touched his lips. "And what do you want from me?"

"Your cooperation," she said. "When he makes his scene, I need you to back me up. Don't let him succeed. And protect my father's dignity."

Just then, the deep, resonant chime of the church bells began to toll. The ceremony was about to begin.

Arlington held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes seeming to strip away every layer of her pretense, seeing the desperate, determined core beneath. He seemed to be re-evaluating everything he'd ever heard about the timid, flighty Bonnie Galvan.

He turned his wheelchair toward the door. As he passed her, his voice was a low command.

"Don't disappoint me."

Bonnie watched him go, the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time that day. She had gambled, and the first hand was a win.

Riley Page moved to push the wheelchair, but Arlington waved him off, maneuvering it himself. Bonnie fell into step behind them as they moved toward the main hall, a silent, unlikely pair of allies heading into battle.