Melissa's POV.
I don't even know how long I knelt there, the harsh fibers of the rug digging into my skin as my brain struggled to process what Mr. Langton had just said.
Before I could even formulate a response, the heavy study doors opened. Mrs. Langton walked in, her face pale and her eyes red, looking like she hadn't slept in days. But her posture was rigid. Unyielding.
I scrambled to my feet, my voice shaking. "Please, Ma'am. I can't do this. I can't become her. I'm not Helen. You're asking me to lie, to pretend, to deceive someone into marrying me. I'm not capable of doing something like that."
She didn't flinch. She folded her arms across her chest, her face completely unreadable. "Then we are not capable of helping you, either."
I looked between the two of them, stunned. "But my mother… You know what she means to me. She worked for you all her life. She practically raised Helen like her own. Doesn't that count for something?"
Mr. Langton let out a tired, dismissive breath. "It did. But this isn't about loyalty or history anymore. This is about necessity. Our family's name, our entire legacy—they're tied to this marriage. We can't let everything collapse just because of a tragedy."
Mrs. Langton's voice turned to ice. "Do it for us. Or at least, do it to repay everything we've done for you. The food. The roof. The school Helen made sure you attended. All of it."
I felt my heart crack open. I had lived in their daughter's shadow for years, but I had never expected this level of cruelty. They were calculating every little kindness they ever gave, adding it up and slapping it back in my face like a debt I had to pay with my life.
My fingers dug into the fabric of my cheap skirt. "You're asking me to live in a lie. What happens when he finds out? What happens to me?"
"Then don't let him find out," Mrs. Langton said simply.
I stared at her, seeing only a desperate, terrified woman masking her panic with power. She was terrified of this groom. Terrified of what Helen had left behind. Her plan was incredibly fragile, and she had placed the entire weight of it on my shoulders.
"We can't help you unless you help us," Mr. Langton said, his tone final. "It's a choice, Melissa. Yours."
No. It wasn't a choice. Not when my mother was lying in a hospital bed struggling to breathe, and no one else in the world was willing to help.
"We will leave you for a moment to think it through," Mr. Langton said. "If we return and find you still here, we will take it as your answer."
They left, and time passed in fractured, blurry pieces. I wasn't sure how long I stood there in the quiet study before they returned, trailing their family lawyer behind them. He placed a thick contract on the desk like this was a standard corporate transaction.
I picked up the pen with trembling hands. The typed pages blurred through my tears.
"If I back out…" I murmured, my voice hollow as I scanned the ruthless clauses. "'…if I speak the truth, if he finds out I'm not Helen…'"
Mrs. Langton stepped closer.
"Your mother will go to jail. You remember the theft three years ago? The diamond necklace from my vanity? We never pressed charges—but it was enough." She tilted her head, her eyes devoid of warmth. "If you make us look like fools today, I promise you, she will spend her final days behind bars. We will find the evidence we need. Do not test us."
My blood ran completely cold.
"Okay," I whispered.
I didn't know when I signed it. My hand moved like it belonged to a corpse. When they handed me the cashier's check for the hospital, my fingers were totally numb. I didn't thank them. I just turned and walked out.
*
The wedding day arrived like a suffocating fog. I never thought my wedding would feel like a hostage exchange. But it did.
It was a small, quiet ceremony at a private registry office. No flowers. No music. No guests from the groom's side. Just Helen's parents and me, waiting in a sterile, freezing room.
"It won't last," Mrs. Langton had hissed at me while zipping up my dress earlier. "He just needs a bride on paper for now. Keep your head down."
I stood there in a heavy cream dress that wasn't mine, tailored to Helen's measurements but slightly too loose on me.
My hands were sweating.
I gripped the bouquet until my knuckles turned white.
My mother was currently in surgery. The Langtons had paid the deposit. I had sold myself, but my mother was going to live. All I had to do was survive this room. All I had to do was say "I do."
Then, the heavy wooden doors clicked open.
He walked in.
Tall. Completely composed. Dressed in a sharp, dark suit cut just for him.
The moment I saw his face, my heart stopped.
I knew him.
The realization hit me in violent waves—the unreadable dark eyes, the faint scar, the way he moved like the air itself bent to make way.
The man with the stray cat. The man from the snowy street.
The suspected Mafia Kingpin.
I couldn't breathe. The room started to spin.
Wait. He was Helen's groom?
I frantically glanced at Helen's parents. They were staring straight ahead, their faces pale and slick with sweat. They had told me Helen's groom was a billionaire heir. Was this the truth Helen had been running from?
They hadn't just asked me to pretend. They had dressed me in white and fed me to a wolf.
The Kingpin walked up to the altar in dead silence. He didn't look at the officiant. He didn't look at the Langtons. His dark eyes locked entirely on me.
Without a single word, he reached out and grabbed my wrist.
He yanked me roughly toward his chest.
A cold, hard weight pressed against my ribs from inside his jacket—a gun.
My stomach dropped.
Behind him, his assistant moved with terrifying speed, slamming the heavy double doors shut and throwing the deadbolts. The loud CLACK echoed like a gunshot.
"No one leaves," the Kingpin said. His voice was completely calm.
Mrs. Langton let out a strangled sob.
"If anyone reaches for a phone," he added, not looking at them, "they won't make it out of this room."
My wrist burned in his iron grip.
"I know how tricky you both can be," he said, finally turning his dark, lethal gaze toward Helen's parents. "I had my men check the flight records last night. I know the bride didn't make it off that plane."
The color completely drained from Mr. Langton's face. They were caught.
"Speak. Tell me who you tried to replace her with. Now is your only chance to confess. Or I bury you both right here."
It didn't sound like a threat. It sounded like a promise.
The cold metal pressed harder into my side. My vision swam. He was going to shoot me. Right here. In this fake dress.
Then, he slowly turned his head. His eyes dragged over my face, stripping away the makeup, the veil, the lie. A flicker of something dangerous and confused sparked in his eyes as he recognized me.
He leaned in close, his chest hard against mine, his lips brushing my ear.
"You," he murmured, his voice a dark, rough whisper. "You saved my cat. That's the only reason I'm giving you a chance."
My breath hitched.
Why was he giving me a chance? Mercy? Curiosity? Or some twisted amusement? Either way, I was trapped in his orbit.
"Tell me the truth," he demanded softly, his grip tightening. "Who the hell are you?"