Chapter 3: It's an Honor to Marry in My Place

Back at the Bennett estate, Isla took a steadying breath and walked straight into the wolf's den. "Where is my grandmother?" Isla's soft face had gone hard as frost. "Isla, you filthy little tramp your neck is covered in hickeys! You didn't even show up for your exam yesterday. Which man did you run off to a hotel with?" "You're getting married today. If you dare cause one ounce of trouble for this family, I will break both your legs myself." Regina Bennett jabbed a finger at Isla, spitting the words like venom. Isla was fairly sure the man from last night had left a mark on her throat. She could feel it. But none of that mattered right now. She looked at her aunt already curling her lip with open hostility and said, ice-cold, "What did you do with my grandmother? Release her right now or I'm calling the police." Isla made a show of reaching for her phone. Bianca stepped forward and knocked it clean out of her hand. "Isla. Tsk, tsk. You look absolutely trashy after a night like that." Bianca smiled sweetly. "But honestly, who cares. The Vales only want a wife in name anyway. Even if you did lose your virginity last night, that useless Vale heir will never know the difference the man can't even perform. He's paralyzed, remember?" "A used-up nobody marrying a broken cripple. Honestly? Match made in heaven." Bianca covered her mouth, giggling. That smile, to Isla, looked exactly like a snake sizing up its next meal. "The Vale family wants you. That's not my problem to fix." "Isla! One more word out of you and I will rip your mouth open myself. Try me. I could have your grandmother in a coffin within the hour she's old, nobody would even ask questions." Regina's voice climbed to a shriek. Isla's glare could have cut glass. The Vale family had offered an obscene dowry to marry into the Bennetts. Before any of this, there had only ever been one daughter promised Bianca. Then, out of nowhere, the story changed: Bianca had "fallen suddenly ill," too unlucky to marry, and Isla was shoved into her place instead. The woman standing in front of her right now was in perfect health. Not a single symptom in sight. Isla knew exactly what this really was. But if she fought it, they'd hurt her grandmother. So she had no choice. I hate them. I hate every single one of them. I'd drag them all down with me if I could. "Isla, sweetheart, the Vales are old money real royalty. It's basically a miracle a backwoods nobody like you gets to marry in. You should be thanking us." Isla laughed, sharp and humorless. "If it's such a miracle, why don't you marry him?" Old money or not, everyone in three counties knew the Vale heir was cruel, vicious, and that every woman who'd ever gotten close to him had ended up destroyed. If the deal were really that good, it wouldn't have landed on her lap. "Fine. Since you want to make this difficult." Regina snapped her fingers. "Guards take her upstairs, get her into the dress, get her in the car." Across town, Grayson had just stepped out of the shower when his phone rang. Marcus. "Sir, it's your wedding day. Where are you?" Marcus's voice was tight with urgency. Grayson's tone turned to ice. "I don't have time for this." Before Marcus could hang up, a maid's voice cut in from somewhere behind him, panicked. "Oh God he's coughing blood! He's going into shock again!" Grayson heard every word of it. "Get a doctor. Now." "The doctor left to prep medication, he's not back yet" "Get him to the hospital. I'm on my way." Grayson's voice was flat, cold, already moving. Riding in the back of the Rolls-Royce Phantom, Isla knew this was a one-way road. The Bennetts had promised if she went through with the marriage in Bianca's place, her grandmother would be safe. Untouched. Her grandmother was the only family she had left. Her whole world. She couldn't risk her. At least he's disabled, she thought grimly. Maybe I can actually survive this. The car glided to a stop outside a hillside estate somewhere up in the Bel-Air hills, all glass and stone and money. Through the window, Isla watched two men who looked like security lift someone in a wheelchair into a van. She couldn't get a clear look, but it was definitely a man. Is that him? The Vale heir? Everyone outside looked frantic. Something had clearly gone wrong. Isla sat frozen, watching the van pull away. Only two or three staff remained on the lawn. She let out a slow breath of relief. I prayed for a miracle, and here it is. Looks like the groom's got problems of his own. At least I don't have to face him today. The driver opened her door. Isla stepped out carefully, lifting the hem of her gown. The dress was flawless white silk, thousands of hand-set crystals along the hem catching the California sun like scattered stars. Even with the cheap, tarnished jewelry Bianca had "generously" handed down, nothing could dull the quiet elegance radiating off her. The estate had clearly been decorated for a real wedding. And yet apart from the staff bowing politely there wasn't a single guest. Not even the groom. "Madam, this way, please." A middle-aged butler gestured toward the staircase. Isla looked up at the sweeping spiral stairs, lowered her eyes, gathered her skirt in one hand, and started climbing, her long veil trailing behind her. Last night had left her legs unsteady, walking a little stiff thankfully the dress hid it, the same way it hid the marks on her throat. Screech Tires cut through the quiet. A black Bentley skidded to a stop in the courtyard below, the driver's posture radiating urgency. Grayson killed the engine, checked his phone once, jaw tight, then shoved the door open and stepped out. The second his dress shoe hit the gravel, something white caught the edge of his vision. Through the windshield, through the estate's floor-to-ceiling windows, he saw her a figure in a pure white gown, standing at the top of the staircase, hand resting on the rail, her profile catching the light like something untouched by the world. If he hadn't seen exactly how bold, how reckless she'd been the night before, he never would have believed this quiet, almost delicate-looking girl was about to become his wife. Isla heard the tires screech to a stop below. Her heart lurched. Is he back already? Did something go wrong on his end and now it's fine? She stopped at the top of the staircase, gathering her skirt, and looked back over her shoulder. A black car sat parked in the courtyard below. A polished black leather shoe stepped firmly onto the gravel.