Chapter 1
Isadora
"Hold still, baby."
Alex gently gripped my left wrist.
Today marked six months since we'd started dating. The top floor of Rockefeller Center had been cleared out entirely. The massive space held no other diners—just one long table at the center, decorated with white roses flown in specially, and two barely touched Beef Wellingtons.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan's night skyline unfurled like an enormous canvas.
But right now, I couldn't care less about the view.
Because Alex was down on one knee in front of me. He pulled a black velvet box from inside his suit jacket. The moment he opened it, the jewel inside blazed under the lights.
I covered my mouth. I was so happy I could've passed out.
"Isadora," Alex looked up at me, his eyes deep with feeling, as if in that moment I was the only person in the world. "Over the past six months, I've felt that meeting you was the greatest blessing of my life. Will you marry me?"
My eyes burned. A sob caught in my throat. How could I possibly say no? There would never be another man who loved me the way Alex did.
For the past six months, he had known that I always forgot breakfast, so he made sure his private chef delivered a low-fat meal to me every morning.
When I fell ill, he put off a multimillion-dollar business meeting and stayed by my side all night.
Even when I woke up at three in the morning, he was still sitting there.
A man like Alex, with his status and everything he had, was willing to do so much for me. How could I still question whether his feelings were real?
I nodded through my tears, my voice trembling. "Yes."
A perfect smile spread across Alex's handsome face. He took my left hand and slowly slid the massive custom pink diamond ring onto my finger.
I held my breath, watching it glide past my fingertip. But when the band reached my knuckle, it caught. I froze. Alex's grip was firm—he didn't seem to notice the slight resistance and kept pushing.
"Ah—"
Sharp pain shot through my knuckle. I flinched instinctively.
"What's wrong, baby?" Alex noticed my stiffness and asked with concern, his gaze still tender.
I looked at his face, full of anticipation, and swallowed the cry of pain that had risen to my lips.
In such a perfect proposal scene, if I made a scene about the ring being too small, it would ruin everything.
Besides, Alex had flown to Antwerp himself to select this diamond. I couldn't spoil his gesture now.
"Nothing." I forced a smile and rested my left hand naturally in his palm. "Just overwhelmed. My fingers went numb for a second."
"Silly girl." Alex stood and kissed my forehead gently, then pulled me into his arms.
My chin rested on his shoulder, but sharp pain kept pulsing from my ring finger. He held me so tight, so deeply, I couldn't tell what was suffocating me more—the ring or his drowning love.
It's fine. I told myself. Just a small price to pay for happiness. I'd get used to it.
"Miss Morrow, please keep your chest lifted and don't let your back collapse." Emily swept her critical gaze over me, her assessment cold.
I sucked in air instinctively, forcing my spine straight. Another wave of compressed pain shot through my chest. I almost cried out.
Just hang on, Isadora. The wedding's tomorrow. I repeated it like a mantra.
These past months, I hadn't had a single day off. As the bride marrying into the Walker family, I'd been assigned a packed schedule of training. Every morning at six, Emily—Alex's specially hired image consultant—appeared at my bedroom door right on time.
Now I stood in the private fitting room at St. Patrick's Cathedral. One wall was covered by an enormous mirror. The woman staring back felt both familiar and foreign.
My naturally wavy brown hair had been straightened and smoothed through multiple salon treatments until the curl was nearly invisible.
My face wore the most refined makeup—cheekbones carved high with contour powder, lips painted an almost nude shade.
Emily said this was the sophistication New York's elite pursued, though I still couldn't grasp its beauty.
The white silk haute couture wedding gown I wore—handmade over six months by a Parisian atelier—clung to my body.
To achieve an extreme hourglass silhouette, the dress had a built-in whalebone corset.
When Emily and two maids laced me up, they'd practically stood on my heels, yanking backward with all their strength.
I could feel my ribs forced inward. Each breath pulled in barely any air. My lungs ached.
I held myself rigid, staring at my reflection. Though my body trembled slightly, looking at the luxurious train, the hand-embroidered pearls catching the light, anticipation swelled inside me despite everything.
After tomorrow's wedding, I'd be Alex's legal wife. This was all temporary. As long as I could stand beside the man who loved me, face whatever came together, it was all worth it.
"Hey, Emily, it's nine o'clock at night."
The fitting room door swung open. Lia walked in carrying two boxes of hot cheese pie from the corner shop.
She set them on the coffee table and dusted off her hands.
"The bride deserves a midnight snack the night before her wedding, right?
Besides, that ancient Walker family rule about the bride and groom not seeing each other has already trapped Alex on the other side of the Manhattan Bridge. Give Isadora a break."
Emily's expression darkened. She glanced at the boxes, then at me, her tone dismissive.
"Miss Morrow, as the future Mrs. Walker, your social circle may require some appropriate filtering.
I hope this high-calorie food doesn't destroy your waistline.
Since your friend has arrived, tonight's etiquette lesson ends here.
I trust you remember everything I said."
She gathered her folders with a haughty air and strode out with the two maids.
As the door closed, the suffocating atmosphere finally began to lift.
"God, she's finally gone." Lia rolled her eyes dramatically and flopped onto the sofa with zero grace. "Isadora, I honestly don't get why you're putting yourself through this. That woman just looked at me like I was a bag of trash."
"Come on, Lia, she's just doing her job." I gathered my heavy skirts and sank onto the sofa beside her.
"Quick, get this armor off. I can't breathe just looking at you." Lia moved closer, fumbling to help me with the dress.
When the whalebone corset finally loosened, air rushed into my lungs. I couldn't help coughing violently.
"Jesus, Isadora, what happened to your hand?"
Lia had started pulling the sleeve down when her eyes locked on my left hand. I tried to pull back instinctively, but she was faster, grabbing my wrist.
"What the hell is this?" Lia's face filled with disbelief. "Isadora, are you insane? This ring is obviously the wrong size! Look what it's done to your finger!"
"Shh, keep your voice down, Lia." I quickly covered her mouth with my right hand, glancing nervously at the closed door. "There are staff on duty outside."
"I don't care about any staff!" Lia shook off my hand, looking at me with frustration. "Look at your hand—it's swollen! Come on, we're going to Alex right now. This ring needs to be resized immediately, or just cut off! Is he blind? It's been two months, and he hasn't noticed?"
"No, Lia, don't!" I grabbed her hard, stopping her from leaving. The most important lesson from bridal training: don't burden Alex with problems.
"Why not? How hard is it to resize a ring?" Lia stared at me, her voice full of anger and hurt.
For a moment, I felt ashamed of what I was about to say. "Forget it, Lia. He's just been so busy. He runs the entire Walker empire. He only sleeps four hours a night. He didn't mean it—he's just overwhelmed. I don't want to bother him with something like this."
"Oh my God." Lia sighed, deep helplessness in it. My face burned for some reason. I looked down, unable to meet her eyes. But then she hugged me tight. "Fine. But promise me you won't let yourself suffer anymore."
I leaned into her shoulder, thinking of Alex's attentive care, his sweet smile when he proposed. I nodded hard. He would never let me suffer.
Late that night, the Upper East Side mansion district lay eerily quiet. Occasionally, the rustle of leaves from Central Park drifted through the window. I was lying in the luxurious silk bed—easily six feet wide—imagining tomorrow's wedding when my phone buzzed violently on the nightstand.
The screen showed a familiar name. Mom.
I grabbed the phone and answered.
"Hello, Mom?"
"Oh, my darling Isadora!" My mother's warm, familiar voice came through.
"Mom, did you make it to New York? Is the hotel okay?" I asked with concern. Alex had arranged the most luxurious five-star hotel in Manhattan, but I'd been worried they'd feel uncomfortable.
"We're here, sweetheart. The people Alex sent were so thoughtful.
That car was like a little house." Mom laughed, but then her tone slowed, carrying a thread of worry.
"Isadora, your father and I saw news coverage of your wedding on TV.
My God, that cathedral, all those politicians and celebrities attending...
We got the etiquette manual at the hotel today.
Just looking at it made our heads spin."
I bit my lip. Alex had sent my parents an etiquette manual? He hadn't mentioned that to me.
Silence on the other end, then the sound of a chair scraping. Someone sat down next to Mom.
"Isadora," my father's steady voice came through.
"Your mother and I have never seen anything like this in our lives.
Alex is a good man, and he's been more than generous to us.
But, sweetheart, your old man only wants to know one thing—are you alright being in a place surrounded by cameras and bodyguards? "
Hearing that, I froze. Then a wave of inexplicable hurt surged up from somewhere deep. Tears spilled out suddenly.
I had no rational control over it. These past months, I'd practiced every smile to perfection to maintain the flawless image. And Dad's question was like suddenly unbuckling the tight restraints I'd been wearing.
"Dad, I'm fine. Alex takes really good care of me." I sniffed, trying to make my voice sound cheerful. "You don't need to worry."
"That's good then. Get some sleep—you're going to be the most beautiful bride tomorrow. Your mother and I will be there first thing in the morning."
After hanging up, I pressed the phone to my chest and curled up under the wide covers.
After tomorrow, Alex's and my life would find its rhythm. I'd still take two days a week to go back to the flower shop in Brooklyn, kick off these ankle-torturing heels, and spend time with those beautiful bouquets.
Alex loved me so much. He'd understand. Everything would be fine.
I told myself over and over.
Without realizing it, the sky turned pale. Listening to the wind rustle through the trees outside, I finally closed my eyes.
Tomorrow would be the most perfect day of my life.