Chapter 3 The unexpected but expected wedding

Allison entered the living room to find a small group already seated around the sleek glass coffee table. Three people, all dressed in variations of sharp black and navy, laptops open, tablts in hand

Kyle stood at the windows, back straight, arms crossed-already in CEO mode.

The woman at the center rose when Allison walked in. "You must be Allison. I'm Dana Marks, head of PR for Wilson Global. Congratulations-this is the fastest engagement rollout we've ever had to spin."

"Thanks?" Allison said, unsure if it was a compliment.

Dana smiled thinly and gestured for her to sit. "We've drafted talking points, mapped out your social media presence, and scheduled your first official photo shoot as a couple for next week. Until then, we're focusing on building a narrative."

"What kind of narrative?" Allison asked, settling onto the edge of the couch.

"Fairytale meets ambition," Dana replied without missing a beat. "You're the grounded girl-next-door who captured the heart of Manhattan's most unattainable bachelor. It's charming. Relatable. Strategic."

Kyle's gaze flicked toward her, unreadable.

Allison forced a nod. "And if I don't play along?"

Dana's smile cooled. "Then the tabloids write your story for you."

The message was clear: play the part, or be devoured.

Thirty minutes later, Allison excused herself, claiming she needed air. She slipped into the study, shut the door, and pulled out her phone. Her thumb hovered over her mom's name for a beat.

Then she tapped Call.

Rose answered on the first ring. "Allison?"

"Hi, Mom." Her voice cracked-just a little.

"Oh, honey. Are you okay? I've seen the news. Everyone has. I-" Rose hesitated. "You look beautiful. But I know that smile."

Allison slumped into the leather chair by the desk. "They've already built a version of me I don't even recognize."

"Then don't let them decide who you are," Rose said gently. "No matter how much money is involved, you're still you. You still have a choice."

Allison swallowed hard. "I'm not so sure anymore."

There was silence for a moment.

"You're strong," her mother said. "Stronger than I ever was. Just don't lose yourself trying to be what they want."

Allison blinked fast, willing away the tears. "I'll try."

"You don't have to be perfect," Rose whispered. "Just be real. Even if it's only with yourself."

When the call ended, Allison sat in silence for a long moment, staring at the city beyond the glass.

Real.

She could do real-even in a fake marriage.

Especially if it was the only thing that could keep her grounded.

By nightfall, Allison stood at the top of a marble staircase in a gown that shimmered like moonlight, her fingers wrapped lightly around Kyle's arm.

Below them, the gala buzzed with New York's elite-politicians, CEOs, celebrities. Waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne. Flashbulbs flared at the entrance.

"You remember what to say?" Kyle murmured without looking at her.

"Yes," she said, her voice steady. "Smile. Laugh softly. Pretend I belong."

He glanced at her, eyes scanning her face. "You look like you do."

She didn't answer. They began their descent.

All heads turned when they entered. Whispers rose around them like a tide.

"There she is-"

"That's her?"

"Did you see the ring?"

"God, she's gorgeous-but no way this is love."

Allison's smile didn't waver.

Kyle played the part flawlessly-offering her his hand as he introduced her to old-money families and sharp-eyed investors. He was polished, practiced. This was his world, and he wore it like armor.

She, on the other hand, felt like a glass sculpture on display-admired, inspected, and one wrong step away from shattering.

Then came her.

Tall, elegant, wrapped in red satin and familiarity.

"Vanessa," Kyle said evenly. "Didn't think you'd be here."

"I'm on the board now," she replied coolly, ignoring Allison for a beat too long. "And this must be your new... bride."

"Fiancée," Allison corrected, offering a hand. "Allison Grant."

Vanessa took it with a smile that never reached her eyes. "Lovely. You're a bold choice."

"Thank you," Allison said sweetly. "He needed someone who could keep up."

Kyle's lips twitched, but he said nothing.

As Vanessa drifted away, Allison muttered, "That's her, isn't it?"

He didn't reply, but his silence said enough.

Hours later, after endless handshakes, shallow conversations, and staged photos, they finally escaped to the terrace. The city glittered below them-beautiful and distant.

Allison leaned on the railing, her voice low. "I get it now."

"Get what?"

"Why you hide behind all this. It's easier to perform than to be real."

He looked at her then-really looked. "It's safer."

Allison didn't argue.

"I don't need safe," she said softly. "I need honest. At least in private."

Kyle nodded once, slowly. "Then we'll keep that between us."

A truce. A fragile thread of something real.

Inside, the cameras waited. Outside, they stood as two people pretending to be something they weren't-yet.

The next morning, the headlines were merciless.

"Kyle Wilson's New Flame: Strategic or Scandalous?"

"Charity Gala or PR Circus? Socialites Weigh In on Allison Grant"

"Vanessa Langford Reacts to Kyle's Surprise Engagement-Sources Say She Was Blindsided"

Allison stared at her tablet, still in her robe, coffee going cold in her hands.

The picture they used wasn't awful-she and Kyle laughing on the terrace, heads tilted just close enough to hint at intimacy-but the caption twisted the narrative.

"From Nobody to Fiancée-Who Is This Mystery Woman, and Why Now?"

She clicked the tablet off.

Kyle was in the kitchen, dressed in running gear, pouring a protein shake like nothing had happened.

"Did you see?" she asked, more tired than angry.

"I did."

"And that's it?"

He looked up, meeting her eyes. "It's noise. They don't know you."

"They don't want to," she murmured.

Kyle stepped closer, leaving his shake on the counter. "You did well last night."

"I played a role."

"And you played it better than most."

His voice had softened. Almost like he meant it.

She looked up at him, searching for something-validation, truth, anything unscripted. "Do you ever miss it? A life that wasn't... this?"

He hesitated. "Sometimes."

It was the most human thing he'd said since the contract.

The silence between them stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then he did something unexpected.

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm not good at this," he said quietly. "But I see you trying. And I notice."

The words lingered in the space between them, warm and unpolished.

Allison swallowed hard. "Thank you."

For a moment, it wasn't about heirs or contracts or cameras. Just two people on opposite sides of a storm, trying not to drown.

Then his phone buzzed. Another meeting. Another distraction.

Just like that, the moment was gone-but not forgotten.

Later that afternoon, Allison was still reeling from the headlines when Kyle called her into his office.

She found him seated behind a massive black marble desk, scrolling through his calendar. He looked calm-too calm.

"Sit," he said without looking up.

She folded her arms. "You sound like a CEO, not a fiancé."

He smirked. "Sometimes I forget there's a difference."

"Clearly."

He finally looked up, eyes sharp but unreadable. "We're moving the wedding."

Allison blinked. "What?"

"Next week."

She stared at him, certain she'd misheard. "You mean next month."

"One week," he repeated. "Saturday. My parents already approved the venue."

Her breath caught. "You already-? Without asking me?"

"We need to control the narrative," Kyle said flatly. "The longer we wait, the more stories they invent. A sudden wedding forces a reset. We shape the conversation."

Allison shook her head, half-laughing in disbelief. "Do you hear yourself? This isn't a merger, Kyle. It's my life."

"You agreed to this," he reminded her. "Terms. Heir. Three years."

"Yes," she snapped, "but I didn't agree to be steamrolled."

His eyes softened, just slightly. "I didn't do this to hurt you. I did it to protect you. Us."

She stepped back, rattled, trying to gather her thoughts. "One week isn't enough time."

"It's plenty," he said. "My team's already on it. Designers, florists, everything. You won't have to lift a finger."

"That's not the point."

He stood, rounding the desk. "Allison. This is happening. The world's watching. We either look united-or we fall apart."

Her pulse pounded. The ground beneath her felt less steady than ever.

But deep down, a part of her-small, traitorous-whispered that maybe the faster it all happened, the less time she'd have to second-guess everything.

Still, she met his gaze and said, "One week, Kyle. You better be sure. Because once we do this, there's no undoing it."

He nodded once. "I am."

She walked out before he could say anything else, her heart a storm of nerves, disbelief-and something dangerously close to anticipation.