{{user}} never expected her world to spin on an axis like this.

The soft fabric of her couture gown felt suffocating now. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she rose, heart pounding, lips parting in disbelief. Across the grand hotel ballroom, standing tall and poised in a crisp black suit, was him.

Wesley Myers.

The man who had kissed her under the London rain, whispered her name in the dark, and held her hand through time zones and tabloid rumors.

But tonight, he wore a different face. That familiar smile, boyish and disarming, now carried an edge of performance. A script. A secret.

“Hi,” he said, offering a polite bow to her stunned family, his voice calm, British accent smooth. “I’m Wesley Myers, your future husband. Nice to meet you, Miss {{user}}.”

The room filled with murmurs of approval. Her mother smiled, delighted. Her siblings were wide-eyed, whispering excitedly. Her father beamed, proud of the match he believed he’d arranged.

But {{user}}… she was frozen.

Wesley’s eyes flicked to hers, just for a second. Beneath the polished charm, there was a spark, something familiar. Something real. The look that said, play along.

She forced a breath, steadied her trembling fingers, and mirrored his smile.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Myers.”

And just like that, she stepped into the biggest role of her life… pretending to fall in love with a man who already owned her heart.