Isabelle stared at Varnie, her coffee cooling in her hands. His proposal hung in the air like a reckless dare. Marry him? A man she’d just met, who’d nearly run her over? It was absurd. But as she looked into his eyes, half-desperate, half-hopeful, something clicked. She needed a way back into the world that had been stolen from her. A new name, a new face, a new life. This could be her chance.

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “Let’s say I’m in. What’s the deal?”

Varnie’s brows shot up, like he hadn’t expected her to bite. “Okay, wow. Uh, three months. That’s all I need. Just enough time to dodge this arranged marriage my mom’s pushing. We sign a contract, make it official at the courthouse, and play the part in public. You get the money, and I get my life back. No feelings, no mess.”

Isabelle tilted her head, studying him. “And what do I get, exactly? Besides coffee and near-death experiences?”

He grinned, a little sheepish. “Name your price. A house, a car, a bank account. I’ve got resources. You need something to start over, right? I can tell you’re running from something.”

Her stomach twisted. He didn’t know half of it. Olivia’s smug face flashed in her mind, then Thomas’s cold kiss on her forehead. They’d taken everything, her company, her home, her father. She needed power, influence, a way to strike back. Varnie’s offer was a door she could walk through as someone else. Someone they wouldn’t see coming.

“Fine,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m Zelinda. Zelinda Hart.”

“Zelinda Hart,” he repeated, testing the name. “Sounds like a woman who means business. Deal.” He stuck out his hand again, and this time, she shook it.

The next morning, they were in the courthouse. Isabelle, now Zelinda, stood beside Varnie in a simple white dress she’d picked up from a boutique the night before. Her heart pounded, not from nerves about the marriage, but from the weight of her new identity. Zelinda Hart. A name she’d chosen in the quiet of Stella’s guest room, staring at her son’s sleeping face. A name that felt sharp, like a blade.

Varnie looked surprisingly put-together in a navy suit, though his tie was slightly crooked. He caught her eyeing it and shrugged. “Not every day you marry a stranger.”

She smirked. “Better fix that tie before your mom thinks I’m marrying a slob.”

He laughed, adjusting it quickly. The ceremony was short, just a few words from a bored officiant and a quick signing of papers. No rings, no vows, just a contract. Three months, she reminded herself. Three months to rebuild, to plan, to make Olivia and Thomas pay.

When they stepped outside, the sun was too bright, and Zelinda shielded her eyes. Varnie glanced at her. “Ready to meet the family?”

She exhaled, smoothing her dress. “Let’s get this over with.”

The drive to Varnie’s parents’ estate was long, winding through hills dotted with mansions. Zelinda stared out the window, her mind racing. She’d spent the night mapping out her next steps. With Varnie’s money, she could hire investigators, dig into what Olivia and Thomas had done after her “death.” Maybe even uncover what really happened to her father. A heart attack, the secretary had said. But after everything, she didn’t trust a single word.

“You okay?” Varnie’s voice broke her thoughts. “You’re quiet.”

“Just thinking,” she said, glancing at him. “Your parents… they’re intense?”

He snorted. “My mom’s a hurricane in heels. My dad just nods and signs checks. And Susan, the fiancée I’m dodging, she’s… polished. Like a showroom car. Perfect, but cold.”

Zelinda nodded, filing that away. She could handle polished. She’d been polished once, too, before the world broke her.

The Walker estate loomed ahead, all glass and stone, sprawling across manicured lawns. Varnie parked, and they walked up the steps to the massive front door. Zelinda’s pulse quickened, but she squared her shoulders. She wasn’t Isabelle anymore. She was Zelinda Hart, and she had a role to play.

The door swung open before they could knock. A woman in her late fifties stood there, her auburn hair swept into an elegant updo, her eyes sharp as knives. “Varnie,” she said, her voice dripping with disapproval. “You didn’t call.”

“Surprise,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Mom, this is Zelinda. My wife.”

The word landed like a grenade. His mother’s face froze, her lips parting slightly. Then her eyes snapped to Zelinda, scanning her from head to toe. “Your wife?”

Zelinda extended a hand, her smile cool but polite. “Zelinda Hart. Nice to meet you.”

Mrs. Walker ignored the hand, turning back to Varnie. “What is this nonsense? You can’t just, married? To her?”

“Love moves fast,” Varnie said, his tone light but firm. “We met, we clicked, we made it official. Done deal.”

Before his mother could respond, a man in a crisp suit appeared behind her, Varnie’s father, Zelinda assumed. He had Varnie’s jawline but none of his warmth. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice low.

“Dad, meet Zelinda. My wife,” Varnie repeated, his arm brushing hers for emphasis.

Mr. Walker blinked, then nodded slowly. “I see. Well, come in. Let’s… talk.”

They stepped into a living room that screamed wealth, marble floors, chandeliers, art that probably cost more than most people’s homes. A woman in her late twenties sat on a cream sofa, her blonde hair sleek, her dress a soft shade of lavender. Susan, Zelinda guessed. The arranged fiancée. Her eyes flicked to Zelinda, cold and calculating, like she was sizing up a rival.

“Varnie,” Susan said, standing gracefully. “This is unexpected.”

“Life’s full of surprises,” he replied, his tone dry. “Susan, this is Zelinda. My wife.”

Susan’s smile was tight, like it hurt to hold it. “Charmed,” she said, her voice all silk and venom. She didn’t offer a hand.

Mrs. Walker gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Both of you. Explain this… situation.”

Zelinda sat beside Varnie, her posture perfect, her face calm. She’d played these games before, in boardrooms and ballrooms. She knew how to look like she belonged.

“It’s simple,” Varnie said, leaning back. “I met Zelinda, and we fell in love. Got married yesterday. No need for an arranged marriage when I’ve already got the real thing.”

Mrs. Walker’s eyes narrowed. “Love? Varnie, you’ve never mentioned this woman. And now you’re married? Do you expect us to believe this?”

“It’s true,” Zelinda cut in, her voice smooth. “We kept it quiet because we wanted it to be ours. Just us. No press, no fuss.”

Susan tilted her head, her smile sharp. “And what do you do, Zelinda? Besides… marrying in a hurry?”

Zelinda didn’t flinch. “I’m in consulting. Strategy, branding. I help businesses grow.” It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. She’d built an empire once. She could play the part.

“Consulting,” Susan repeated, like she was tasting the word and found it sour. “How… versatile.”

“Enough,” Mr. Walker said, his voice cutting through the tension. “Varnie, you’ve made your choice. But you know this affects the merger. Susan’s family…”

“I don’t care about the merger,” Varnie said, his voice hard. “I’m not a chess piece. I married Zelinda because I wanted to. End of story.”

Mrs. Walker’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This is reckless, Varnie. You’re throwing away a future we’ve planned for years.”

“Maybe I want my own future,” he shot back.

The room went quiet, the air was filled with unspoken arguments. Zelinda felt Susan’s eyes on her, but she kept her gaze on Varnie, playing the supportive wife. Inside, her mind churned. This was her way in, a new name, a new life, backed by Varnie’s wealth and influence. She could use this to dig into Olivia and Thomas, to unravel their lies. But she had to be careful. One wrong move, and her cover could crack.

“Well,” Mr. Walker said finally, standing. “It’s done. We’ll deal with the fallout. Congratulations, I suppose.”

Mrs. Walker didn’t speak, just stared at Varnie like she could will him to change his mind. Susan excused herself, claiming a headache, her heels clicking as she left the room.

Zelinda and Varnie didn’t stay long after that. The conversation fizzled into awkward small talk, and soon they were back in his car, the estate shrinking in the rearview mirror.

“That went… about as expected,” Varnie said, loosening his tie. “You were good in there. Handled Susan like a pro.”

Zelinda shrugged, staring out the window. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

He glanced at her, curious, but didn’t push. “I’ll drop you off wherever you’re staying. Where to?”

She gave him Stella’s address, her temporary home. The drive was quiet, the tension from the meeting lingering. When they pulled up to the small beach house, Zelinda turned to him. “Thanks for the ride. And the… marriage.”

He grinned. “Anytime, princess. Three months, right?”

“Right,” she said, stepping out. “See you around, Varnie.”

As she walked to the door, his phone rang. She paused, glancing back. His face darkened as he answered, his voice low. “What do you mean, nothing? You’ve had weeks. Keep looking. I need answers.”

He hung up, running a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. Zelinda watched him for a moment, wondering who or what he was searching for, what secrets he was chasing. But she had her own to protect. She turned and walked inside.