The morning light spilled across the Cross mansion in soft gold, touching every surface like it knew how important the day was supposed to be. Ava stood in front of the mirror while Clara fussed over the final details of her outfit. a cream dress paired with simple gold earrings. Nothing flashy, nothing out of place.
"Smile, but not too much," Clara said as she adjusted Ava's collar. "You're here to support, not outshine. They'll want to see how well you fit beside him."
Ava forced a small nod, her reflection betraying the storm she felt inside. Every day since she'd moved in, her life had been shaped into something she didn't recognize, fittings, rehearsed smiles, and perfectly scheduled meals. Today was the press appearance. The day the world would see Damian Cross's fiancée for the first time.
She barely touched her breakfast. Her nerves twisted too tightly in her stomach.
Charles appeared by the doorway. "The car is ready, Miss Sinclair."
Clara gave her a once-over, clearly satisfied. "Let's go. Mr. Cross is waiting."
Ava's steps echoed through the long marble hallway. When they reached the front entrance, she saw him, Damian, standing beside the car, his suit perfectly pressed, his expression unreadable as always. Cameras hadn't even started flashing yet, but he already looked like he belonged to that world: confident, composed, untouchable.
His gaze slid to her as she approached. "You're late."
She met his eyes for only a second. "Good morning to you too."
His lips twitched faintly, almost a smirk, before he opened the car door for her. She hesitated, caught off guard by the gesture, but climbed in without a word. she just had to get through the day and the wedding madness.
The ride was silent except for the hum of the engine. Clara sat across from them, scrolling through her tablet, probably reviewing every question that might come up during the appearance.
"You'll only need to smile," Clara said without looking up. "A few introductions, a handshake or two, and a short statement beside Mr. Cross. Nothing else."
Ava nodded, this was the nth time she was hearing the same thing and she wanted to say that it had been laminated in her head but she simply said . "I understand."
Damian's voice broke the silence. "If you're nervous, don't show it. The press can smell fear faster than blood."
Her eyes flicked to him, her look completely calm and composed unlike her, of course he was. he was probably used to things like this "That's comforting." She replied finding it hard to hold her tongue.
He almost smiled, but didn't. "It's the truth."
the rest of the ride flew back into silence. Clara eyes was on her tablet and Damian's on his phone while ava stared out the window watching as the streets disappeared. her heart was racing in her chest. she knew it was all for show, but she had to do a good job, she needed everything to work out perfectly for Lily.
When the car pulled up outside the event center, a wave of camera flashes suddenly bursted out like lightning. Ava blinked in surpise, she was momentarily stunned by the sheer brightness and noise, it was worse than she had expected. Reporters shouted questions from behind the barriers "Mr. Cross! Over here!" "Is this your fiancée?" "When's the wedding?"
Her heart pounded, but Damian's hand was suddenly at her back, steadying her. "Just walk," he muttered low enough that only she could hear.
So she did.
His touch was firm and guiding. To anyone watching, they looked like the perfect couple, poised and polished. Ava lifted her chin slightly, keeping the small smile Clara had drilled into her face.
Inside, the chaos quieted. A small group of journalists and photographers waited near the press podium. Everything had been arranged by Damian's PR team, every word, every backdrop, every gesture rehearsed to perfection she just had to go with the flow and not mess things up.
Clara directed Ava to her spot beside him and she kept reminding herself to walk slowly, she had to appear calm and composed.
"Remember," clara whispered as she walked by her "you're here as support. Not the story."
The next thirty minutes passed in a blur of questions and polite answers. Damian handled them with the ease of someone used to public attention. he sounded calm and confident, every of his sentence calculated. When someone asked about the engagement, his gaze shifted briefly toward Ava.
"She's been a great support," he said, his voice smooth. "And I'm lucky to have her by my side."
The words sounded perfect. But something in his tone, the way he said lucky made her glance at him. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes lingered just a bit too long before he turned away. lucky? she wanted to scoff. he probably thought she was everything but that, how would the press react if they found out the motive behind this sham marriage, they would probably have more than a field day..
The photographers swarmed again for pictures. Damian reached out, his hand brushing hers, guiding her closer. For a moment, the world dimmed behind the camera flashes.
She hated that her pulse reacted when his hand grazed hers.
When it was over, she finally exhaled. "Was that convincing enough?" she asked quietly as they exited through the back entrance.
"More than enough," he replied, not looking at her.
Clara was already on a call, talking logistics for the next event, so Ava slipped away toward the courtyard for a moment of quiet. she wasn't sure she could take any more of the camera flashes.
She leaned against a marble column, closing her eyes.
It was strange, how exhausting pretending could be.
She'd thought the fittings were overwhelming, but this, being paraded in front of strangers was worse. Every smile felt rehearsed and every word scripted.
For a moment, she wondered what Lily would think if she saw her now wearing a designer dress, standing beside the man she blamed for everything.
Her chest tightened.
She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the footsteps behind her until a smooth voice broke the silence.
"You must be Ava."
She froze, the sound catching her off guard. Slowly, she turned.
A man stood a few feet away, dressed in a tailored suit that looked expensive but effortless. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his calm expression held the kind of confidence that came from power, the kind she'd seen in Damian.
"Sorry," she said carefully, adjusting her composure. "Do I know you?"
He smiled faintly, polite but unreadable. "Not yet. But I know who you are."
There was something about the way he said it that made her uneasy. He wasn't one of the journalists or staff she could immediately tell.
There was something sharper behind his tone, something deliberate.
She straightened, the same instinct that always told her when to be cautious kicking in. "I don't think we've been introduced."
The man extended a hand. "Scott," he said smoothly. Then, after a beat "Scott Cross."