Nora's POV
"I can't do this."
I stood in front of my apartment mirror, staring at a stranger. The red dress Elias had sent fit perfectly. My hair was styled. My makeup was flawless. I looked like the old Nora—the socialite who attended charity galas and smiled for cameras.
But my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Two weeks ago, Helena Rothschild had stormed into that conference room with lawyers and threats. Two weeks of hell trying to prove Elias's "marriage contract" was signed under false pretenses. Two weeks of his mother and my father circling like sharks, waiting for us to break.
We hadn't broken. Yet.
But tonight was the test. The charity gala at the Plaza Hotel—the same place my engagement party had imploded six months ago. The place where my old life died.
Now I had to walk back in there and pretend to be happy.
My phone buzzed. Elias: I'm downstairs. Take your time. We don't have to do this if you're not ready.
Except we did have to do this. Helena's lawyers had given us an ultimatum: prove the engagement to Nora was real and established before the Helena contract, or face a lawsuit that would destroy what little Elias had left.
Tonight, in front of New York's elite, we had to sell the lie that we were madly in love.
I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs.
Elias waited beside a black car, and my breath caught. He wore a tuxedo like he was born in it. His dark hair was styled back. His scarred hands were the only imperfection in an otherwise perfect picture.
When he saw me, something flashed in his eyes. "You look—" He stopped, seeming to search for words. "You look like you could destroy me."
"That's the plan, isn't it?" I tried to joke, but my voice shook. "Destroy our families?"
"I meant me specifically." He opened the car door. "Get in before I forget this is pretend."
The drive to the Plaza took fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of Elias holding my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to. The fear was loud enough.
When we pulled up to the hotel, photographers were everywhere. Flashbulbs exploded like lightning.
"Ready?" Elias asked.
"No," I admitted.
"Good. Me neither." He squeezed my hand. "But we're doing it anyway. Together."
We stepped out of the car, and immediately the questions started.
"Dr. Bennett! Is this your fiancée?"
"Nora Chen! How does it feel to be back at the Plaza?"
"Are the engagement rumors true?"
Elias ignored them all. He put his arm around my waist—protective, possessive—and guided me through the crowd. His body was a shield between me and the cameras.
Inside, the ballroom looked exactly like it had six months ago. Crystal chandeliers. White tablecloths. Wealthy people in expensive clothes pretending to care about charity.
My stomach twisted. "I'm going to be sick."
"No, you're not." Elias turned me to face him, his hands on my shoulders. "Look at me, Nora. Not them. Just me."
I focused on his golden-brown eyes. Steady. Sure.
"We're in this together," he said quietly. "Every second. If you need to leave, we leave. If you need me to punch your father, I'll punch your father. You're not alone this time."
Something in my chest loosened. "You'd actually punch him?"
"I'd pay for the privilege." His small smile made me laugh despite everything.
"Okay," I breathed. "Let's do this."
We walked into the crowd, and immediately people swarmed us. Elias introduced me to everyone—doctors, businesspeople, society matrons who remembered me from before.
"This is my fiancée, Nora Chen," he said to each person. "She's a nurse at St. Catherine's. Brilliant, compassionate, and far too good for me."
He praised my work. My dedication. My kindness with patients. Never once mentioned my scandal or my father. Just talked about me like I was someone worth celebrating.
And people listened. They smiled at me. They congratulated us. Some even apologized for believing the rumors about me six months ago.
It felt like vindication. Like resurrection.
Then I saw him.
My father stood across the room, champagne in hand, watching me with cold calculation. Beside him were Vivian and Marcus, whispering together like conspirators.
My throat closed up.
"Breathe," Elias murmured in my ear. "I see them. I've got you."
Richard Chen started walking toward us, his face a mask of fake pleasantness.
"Elias. Nora." He smiled, but his eyes were ice. "What a surprise seeing you both here."
"Richard." Elias's voice could have frozen fire. He stepped slightly in front of me. "I wasn't aware you'd been invited. This is a charity event for legitimate businesses, after all."
Someone nearby gasped. Direct insult in public—unheard of in these circles.
My father's smile tightened. "Careful, Bennett. We're business partners now. You wouldn't want to damage our relationship."
"Relationship?" Elias laughed coldly. "You mean the hostile takeover my mother arranged to manipulate me? That relationship?" He leaned closer, his voice dropping but still audible to those nearby. "I've seen the FDA investigation reports, Richard. Chen Pharmaceuticals has been hiding clinical trial deaths for three years. How long before that becomes public knowledge?"
My father's face went white, then purple. "You're bluffing—"
"Am I?" Elias pulled out his phone, showing my father something I couldn't see. "These are redacted, of course. But I have connections in federal agencies. The full reports are—enlightening."
Richard looked at the screen, and I watched him realize he'd been outmaneuvered. In front of dozens of witnesses, Elias had just publicly accused him of federal crimes—with evidence.
"This isn't over," my father hissed.
"No," Elias agreed. "It's not. But you're going to walk away now and leave my fiancée alone. Or tomorrow morning, those reports become very un-redacted on the front page of every newspaper."
My father looked at me. Really looked at me. I saw the moment he realized I wasn't his weak daughter anymore.
"You'll regret this, Nora," he said quietly.
"I regret nothing," I replied. My voice didn't shake. "Except wasting twenty-eight years trying to earn love from a man who doesn't have a heart."
He walked away. Vivian and Marcus followed, both of them shooting me hateful looks.
The nearby crowd erupted in whispers.
"Did you hear what he said?"
"FDA investigation?"
"Poor Nora—no wonder she left that family."
Elias took my hand. "Dance with me. Now. Before they start asking questions."
He pulled me onto the dance floor as music started. His scarred hands found my waist. Mine went to his shoulders. And suddenly, we were waltzing.
"You had actual evidence," I whispered. "You weren't bluffing."
"I never bluff when it comes to protecting you." His eyes were intense. "Your father has been breaking laws for years. Someone needed to hold him accountable."
"You're dangerous," I breathed.
"Only to people who hurt you." He spun me, and I felt dizzy—from the dance or from him, I couldn't tell. "You're good at this. Dancing."
"My mother taught me before she died. She loved to dance." The memory made my throat tight.
"Tell me about her," Elias said softly. "Tell me something real. Something not part of our fake story."
So I did. I told him about my mother's laugh. About how she'd dance with me in the kitchen. About how she'd made me promise to be strong, to survive.
And Elias listened like my words were precious.
"You're keeping your promise," he said. "She'd be proud of you."
Tears pricked my eyes. "You're good at this," I whispered. "Pretending."
"So are you," he replied. His hand tightened on my waist, pulling me closer. "Almost like we're not pretending at all."
The words hung between us. True and terrifying.
The music slowed. We swayed together, and I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. Fast. Nervous. Real.
"Elias—"
"I know," he interrupted. "I know this is supposed to be fake. I know we agreed to six months and then walk away. But Nora—" His voice cracked slightly. "I don't think I can pretend anymore."
My heart stopped. "What?"
"Every time I touch you, it's real. Every time you laugh at my terrible jokes, it's real. Every night when I go home alone and wish you were there—that's real." He looked at me with devastating honesty. "I'm falling in love with you. Actually falling. Not pretend."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
"You don't have to say anything," he added quickly. "I know this wasn't part of the deal. I know you probably don't—"
I kissed him.
Right there, in the middle of the dance floor, in front of everyone. I kissed him like I'd been drowning and he was air.
When we broke apart, the entire ballroom was watching us. Cameras flashing. People whispering.
And then, from the entrance, came a slow clap.
We turned.
Helena Rothschild stood there, smiling like a cat with a mouse.
"Bravo," she called out, her voice carrying across the silent room. "What a performance. You two almost had me convinced." She walked forward, heels clicking against marble. "But here's the problem with fake engagements—they fall apart when someone brings proof."
She held up her phone, turning it toward the crowd. On the screen was a video.
Of Elias and me in that hospital conference room two weeks ago.
"—pretend to be his fiancée to stop the arranged marriage. In exchange, he'll give her lawyers to fight her father—"
My voice. Clear as day. Explaining our fake engagement to the camera.
Helena had recorded us. Somehow, she'd recorded everything.
"You see?" Helena continued, addressing the crowd. "They admitted it themselves. This engagement is fraud. A scheme to avoid Elias's legal obligations to me." She looked at Elias with triumph. "I have lawyers waiting outside. You're coming with me, darling. And you—" She turned to me with pure hatred. "You're going to jail for fraud and conspiracy."
Security guards appeared at the entrance. Police officers with them.
This wasn't just a social ambush. It was a legal trap.
Elias grabbed my hand. "Run."
"What—"
"I said RUN!"
We ran.
Through the ballroom, people screaming. Through the kitchen, chefs jumping aside. Out the back entrance into an alley.
Behind us, I heard Helena screaming orders. Heard footsteps pounding.
We reached the street. Cars everywhere. No escape.
"This way!" Elias pulled me into the subway entrance. We jumped the turnstiles, ignoring shouts. A train was pulling up.
We dove through the closing doors just as police burst onto the platform.
The train pulled away. Through the window, I saw Helena standing there, her face twisted with rage.
We'd escaped. Barely.
Elias and I collapsed against the subway wall, gasping for breath. Other passengers stared at us—the man in a tuxedo and woman in an evening gown, looking like we'd escaped a wedding.
"She recorded us," I gasped. "How did she—"
"I don't know." Elias's face was pale. "But she has proof now. Proof that our engagement was fake from the start."
"What do we do?"
He looked at me, and in his eyes I saw something shift. A decision being made.
"We make it real," he said. "Right now. Tonight."
"What are you talking about?"
Elias pulled me close, his scarred hands framing my face. "Marry me. Not fake. Not pretend. Actually marry me. Tonight. Before Helena's lawyers can file anything. Before our families can stop us."
"That's insane—"
"Yes." He smiled, desperate and wild. "Completely insane. But I meant what I said on that dance floor. I'm in love with you, Nora Chen. For real. And if we're going to survive this war with our families, if we're going to have any chance at all—we need to be legally bound. Actually married. No more pretending."
The subway rattled through the tunnel. Strangers watched us. And I had to make a choice.
Trust this man completely. Or lose everything we'd fought for.
"Okay," I whispered. "Let's get married."