The Mafia's False Wife: A Dangerous Deception: Chapters 1–5

Zarrie Sophie Scott’s POV

“You’re marrying Riley Zane Frost.”

Mom’s voice shattered the silence hanging over the dining room.

The chandelier above the Scott family dining table seemed to hum with unease, and a heavy, fragile stillness settled once more — broken only by the nervous clinking of silverware. Dad sat at the head of the long mahogany table, his brow furrowed as he stared into his untouched plate of bacon. Mom sat beside him, her usual graceful posture slightly slumped, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

Across from them sat Zaddie and me. Zaddie tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, her vivid brown eyes flashing with barely contained defiance. I picked at my breakfast, my gaze darting between my parents and my sister, while a cold knot of fear tightened in my stomach.

“Let me guess — this is where you tell me marrying Riley Zane Frost is somehow supposed to be good for me?” Zaddie said, her tone sharp with sarcasm.

Dad sighed, running a weary hand through his thinning hair. “Zaddie, please. This is not how we wanted things to happen, but you know how bad it has become. I’ve spent months trying to understand how everything collapsed so quickly. Contracts disappeared, investors withdrew overnight… None of it makes sense. We’ve tried every alternative we can think of.”

“Except selling the business or fighting back!” Zaddie retorted, her voice rising.

“Why is marrying me off to someone with such a reputation the only solution you can come up with?”

“It’s not just ‘someone,’ Zaddie,” Mom interjected, her voice clearer and firmer now. “Riley Zane Frost is the heir to the Frost Syndicate — powerful, influential, and capable of protecting what is ours. His backing could save everything we’ve worked for over three generations. Your future, Zarrie’s future too.”

My heart sank at the mention of my name. Even though I knew this conversation was coming, it still hurt to hear it laid out so plainly. I understood the desperation driving them, but I also saw the pain in Zaddie’s eyes — the fear of being trapped in a life she didn’t choose.

“So I’m just a bargaining chip?” Zaddie challenged, her voice trembling slightly, more hurt than angry. “A sacrifice to save the family name?”

“That is not how we see it,” Mom said softly, leaning forward.

“We want you to be happy, but we also have a duty to protect our family. Mr. Frost is respected, despite the rumors. He can offer you safety, stability, and a life beyond anything we can give you now.”

“Safety and comfort don’t matter if I lose my freedom!” Zaddie fired back. “I won’t be locked away in some gilded cage, expected to smile and play the perfect wife while my own dreams rot.”

Mom’s expression hardened, though her tone remained steady.

“Zaddie, listen to me. This is no longer a request. The agreement has been signed. You will marry Mr. Frost.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Mom’s words settling heavy in the air. Zaddie stared at her, her face flushing with anger and disbelief. My heart ached watching her; I knew how fiercely independent she was, and the thought of her being forced into this felt unbearable.

“When?” she asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

“As soon as arrangements can be made,” Dad replied, taking on the practical weight of the decision.

“His grandfather, Moon Frost, is pressing for speed. We met the wedding planner this afternoon, and we must begin selecting your gown.” Zaddie let out a bitter, hollow laugh.

“A planner? A gown? You really think you can dress this up and make it feel like a fairytale? I am not a doll to be paraded for the benefit of others.”

“Zaddie, please,” Mom pleaded, her eyes glistening. “For all of us. Just this once.”

With a sharp screech of wood against marble, Zaddie pushed her chair back and stood. “I can’t do this. I won’t do this.”

Before anyone could reply, she turned and stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing rapidly up the stairs.

Silence returned, heavier than before. Mom rubbed her temples, looking exhausted. “This will be harder than I thought.” Dad nodded grimly.

“She has to understand what is at stake. If this falls through, we lose everything.”

I remained quiet, my mind racing. I hated seeing my sister so broken, but I also knew the truth: I had seen the ledgers, the unpaid bills, the letters from creditors. There truly was no other way I could see — not yet, anyway. I felt caught between loyalty to my sister and duty to my family.

“Zarrie?” Mom turned to me, her voice softer.

“You’ve always been able to reach her. Can you talk to her? Help her see the reason?”

I hesitated. Zaddie listened to no one when her mind was set. But I could not refuse.

“I’ll try,” I said gently.

“But I can’t promise she will agree — you know Zaddie.”

“Thank you,” Dad said, giving me a tired nod.

“Just help her understand the reality of our situation.”

“I can’t promise anything.” I stood and left the dining room, feeling as though I were walking toward a storm. The weight of the family’s fate seemed to rest on my shoulders, even though it was not my choice to bear it.

I found Zaddie in her bedroom, pacing back and forth across the floor. The room that usually hummed with music, sketches, and laughter felt cold and empty now. She stopped when she heard me, her eyes red-rimmed, a mix of rage and despair written across her face.

“Are you here to lecture me too?” she asked, her voice raw.

I shook my head and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

“No. I just want to listen.” Zaddie let out a long, shaky breath and turned away, staring out the window.

“They’re selling me, Zarrie. Trading my life to save a company. It feels like everything I want — my fashion designs, my freedom… Zeke — none of it matters.”

“I know it doesn’t feel fair,” I said softly, moving closer.

“But what happens if you refuse? The business collapses, we lose the house, our reputation… everything we’ve ever known.” Zaddie slumped onto the edge of her bed, her shoulders dropping.

“I know. I’ve thought about it. But I can’t marry a stranger, especially one with a reputation like his. And you know about Zeke, right?” I nodded. Of course I knew — the rising international model she had been seeing in secret, the man she loved more than anything, the one our parents would never accept.

“I know how you feel,” I said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently.

“I understand more than you think.” We sat in silence for a long moment, two halves of the same heart, bound by blood and fear and love.

“We’ll find a way,” I told her, though I wasn’t yet sure how.

“There has to be another way out of this mess.” Zaddie looked up, and for a second, a flicker of determination returned to her eyes.

“What if there is?” Before either of us could say more, a high, piercing scream rang out from downstairs — followed instantly by the sound of shattering glass and a heavy crash.

We froze, locking eyes in alarm.

“Something’s wrong,” Zaddie breathed.

Zarrie Sophie Scott’s POV

These past few days have been a whirlwind of wedding preparations. Mom, ever the meticulous planner, threw herself fully into every detail. The phone never stopped ringing, appointments shifted constantly, and the house stayed busy with florists, caterers, and dressmakers coming and going.

But through all the chaos, Zaddie moved with a distant, quiet grace — as if she were only physically present. She attended every meeting, nodded at every suggestion, but her eyes remained faraway, her spirit slowly fading. I tried to reach out, but she would only brush me off; her silence hurt more than any argument ever could.

Today was the wedding dress fitting — a milestone Mom had been looking forward to for weeks. I found Zaddie in her room, staring blankly out the window, her face pale and drawn.

“Zaddie,” I said softly, knocking on the open door. “Mom’s waiting downstairs.”

She turned, her eyes empty. “I can’t do this, Zarrie. I just can’t.”

“I know it feels impossible,” I said, stepping inside and taking her hand.

“But what choice do we have right now? Do you want me to talk to her again?”

“It won’t change anything,” she whispered, her voice thick with despair.

“Does anyone even care how I feel?”

“Of course we do,” I replied, squeezing her fingers gently.

“But we’re all trapped in this together, trying to find a way through.”

“Together?” She pulled her hand away, her voice sharp with frustration.

“It feels like I’m the only one who has to give up my whole life. Everyone else just stands by and watches me walk into a cage.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“If there were another way to protect you, I’d choose it in a heartbeat. You know that.” For a moment, hope flickered in her gaze.

“Then run away with me. Let’s leave everything behind and start over somewhere new — just you and me.”

My heart ached. Part of me wanted nothing more than to say yes. But I knew the truth: we couldn’t just walk away. If we did, our family would lose everything.

“I wish we could,” I said, my voice heavy with regret. “But we both know it’s not that simple.” Her expression hardened, and she turned back to the window.

“Then there’s nothing left to say.”

“Zaddie…” I called softly, but she didn’t respond. I left her room and found Mom waiting downstairs, her face lined with worry.

“Is she coming?” she asked, her voice tight.

“She’s on her way,” I said, forcing a small smile. “She just needs a minute.”

Mom nodded, though doubt lingered in her eyes. She knew Zaddie’s heart wasn’t in this, but she was determined to see it through.

The drive to the boutique was quiet, the tension thick enough to cut. Zaddie sat in the back, staring out the window, her posture making it clear how much she resented this whole arrangement. Mom tried to make small talk, but Zaddie only answered in short, one-word replies.

The shop itself looked like something out of a fairytale — rows of shimmering lace and tulle gowns glowing beneath crystal lights. But to Zaddie, it was just another reminder of the life being forced upon her.

She stood before the mirror as the stylist adjusted a simple yet elegant white A-line gown. The dress should have made any bride glow, but on Zaddie, it only highlighted how distant and unwilling she felt.

“So, what do you think?” Mom asked, her voice a little too bright.

Zaddie shrugged. “It’s not me.”

“Give it a chance,” Mom said, her smile faltering.

“You’ll look beautiful on your wedding day.” Zaddie’s eyes flickered to mine in the mirror for only a second before she looked away again.

As the stylist led us toward the fitting rooms, Zaddie stopped short.

“I need some air.” Before Mom could protest, she turned and hurried out the door, disappearing into the busy street. Mom stared after her, a mix of frustration and helplessness on her face.

“I’ll go after her,” I offered.

“Let her go,” Mom said gently.

“She needs time to clear her head. We can talk later.” I nodded and sat beside her. There was no point in pushing her now — it would only make things worse.

“Come on,” Mom said with a weary sigh.

“Let’s just get this done.” For the next hour, we moved through the motions. Mom insisted on seeing several designs, searching for something that might feel right. But as she turned to admire one particularly elaborate gown, she suddenly stopped, her eyes glistening with tears.

“I know this isn’t fair to either of you,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I know I’m asking for so much. But I truly don’t know any other way to save what we’ve built.”

“The Frost family has their own reasons for wanting this marriage arranged quickly,” she added. “They need Riley settled and secure, and they believe Zaddie’s confidence and spirit make her the perfect match.”

“And what if she isn’t the right fit?” I asked softly.

“What if forcing this only brings more trouble?” Mom sighed, dabbing her eyes.

“I know it’s hard. But sometimes we have to make hard choices for the good of everyone. This isn’t just about the business — it’s about keeping our family safe, our home, and our future intact.” She took my hands in hers. “I need you to be strong, Zarrie. Help your sister get through this. We have to stand together.”

“I will,” I promised, though my chest felt tight with uncertainty.

I stepped outside to look for Zaddie, hoping to bring her back before Mom finished. I spotted her just around the corner, her back turned, phone pressed tightly to her ear.

“Zeke… we can’t wait any longer,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“We have to leave before it’s too late.” I froze in place, the words hitting me like a blow. My throat went dry, and I couldn’t bring myself to call out — I just stood there, listening, as the secret I’d feared began to unfold right before my eyes.

Zarrie Sophie Scott’s POV

The eve of the wedding was a night of restless anticipation. The house hummed with last-minute preparations, yet a heavy, suffocating silence hung over everything — a stark contrast to the joy and celebration that should have filled the air. Zaddie was still missing, and the worry etched deep into Mom and Dad’s faces was impossible to ignore.

I tried to keep myself busy, arranging flowers and checking the guest list, but my mind kept drifting back to my sister. Where was she? Was she safe? Happy? I couldn’t shake the feeling that this choice, while hers, had already set something irreversible in motion.

As the hours dragged on, the uncertainty became too much to bear. I slipped away from the commotion and made my way to Zaddie’s room. The door stood slightly ajar; I pushed it open gently and stepped inside.

The space was a vivid reflection of her personality — walls lined with colorful sketches, shelves stacked with books, and designer clothes and bags scattered across the furniture. But tonight, it felt hollow, drained of her usual energy and warmth. I walked slowly, touching familiar belongings, searching for any sign, any clue of where she had gone.

Then my gaze landed on a small white envelope resting on her desk, addressed to me in her bold, looping handwriting. My heart skipped a beat. I reached for it with trembling fingers, tore it open, and unfolded the letter.

My Dearest Zarrie,

If you’re reading this, it means I couldn’t go through with it. I tried — I really did — but I can’t marry anyone but Zeke. My heart belongs to him alone, and I cannot spend my life bound to a stranger just to please everyone else.

I know this will cause chaos, and I am so, so sorry for leaving you and our family in this position. But I have to follow my heart. I have to be true to myself.

Zeke and I are leaving tonight. We don’t have a fixed destination, but as long as we are together, it will be enough. I hope, one day, you can understand.

Please tell Mom and Dad I love them more than anything, but I cannot live the life they planned for me. I need to find my own path.

And Zarrie… please take care of yourself. I know this is the most selfish decision I have ever made, but you are the strongest person I know. I have faith you will find a way through this. I love you more than words can say.

Love always,

Zaddie

Tears blurred my vision as I clutched the paper to my chest. Two conflicting feelings warred inside me: relief that she was safe and with the man she loved, and a sharp, heavy ache for the freedom she had chosen — and the mess she had left behind. She deserved happiness, yes, but now the consequences of her choice fell squarely on our shoulders.

My mind raced. What were we going to do? How could we explain this to the Frost family? The wedding was tomorrow, and every agreement, every promise, every chance of saving our business rested on it.

I knew I had to tell Mom and Dad, but I dreaded their reaction. This would feel like the end of everything they had worked so hard to protect.

I found them in the living room, hunched over seating charts and floral arrangements, their faces lined with exhaustion and worry. They looked up the moment I entered.

“Zarrie?” Mom asked, her voice tight with anxiety.

“Have you heard anything from Zaddie?” I took a steadying breath and held out the letter.

“I found this on her desk.” Mom took it, her hands already shaking as she began to read. Her face drained of color line by line, and by the time she finished, her knees buckled. Dad caught her before she could fall, his expression shifting from confusion to white-hot shock.

“This can’t be happening,” Mom whispered, her voice breaking.

“How could she do this to all of us?”

“And she ran away with this… Zeke?” Dad growled, his voice thick with disbelief and rising panic. “Who even is he? Does she not understand what this means?” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.

“Someone she’s cared about for a long time. She’s always been private about her personal life — you know how she is. She keeps her world separate from ours.” I paused, sympathy softening my tone.

“I know this hurts, but maybe… maybe this was the only way she could stay true to herself. She was never going to be happy living the life we all expected.” Dad ran a hand roughly through his hair, pacing the room like a caged man.

“Do you two have any idea what we’re facing? The Frost family doesn’t just do business — they keep their word, and they expect everyone else to do the same. People don’t simply walk away from agreements with them. If we break this contract, bankruptcy will be the least of our problems.”

“We’re already on the edge of ruin,” Mom added, her voice trembling as she leaned against Dad. “If we call off the wedding now, they will crush us completely. Our name, our assets, everything — gone in a single day.” Silence settled over the room, heavy and suffocating. Then, as if a switch had flipped in my mind, I knew exactly what had to be done. It was reckless, dangerous, and probably the craziest idea I had ever had — but it was the only way.

“I’ll do it,” I said, my voice steady and clear.

Mom and Dad stared at me, their eyes wide with shock.

“What do you mean?” Mom asked, her voice trembling.

“I’ll marry Riley,” I repeated, the decision solidifying in my chest.

“I’ll take Zaddie’s place.” The words hung in the air, heavy and final. They exchanged glances, a mix of disbelief, fear, and faint hope flickering across their faces.

“Zarrie, no,” Mom said, shaking her head urgently.

“You can’t just step into her shoes. Riley Zane Frost is heir to the Frost Syndicate — he is not an ordinary man. Only someone with a strong, unyielding personality could ever stand up to him. You’re too gentle, too careful…”

“I don’t have a choice,” I cut in gently but firmly.

“We don’t have a choice. If this wedding doesn’t happen, we lose everything. This is the only lifeline we have left.” Mom reached for both my hands, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Are you absolutely sure? This isn’t something you can undo easily. If he finds out the truth before everything is settled… God only knows what will happen.” I looked back at her, feeling a mix of terror and fierce determination.

“I’m sure. I have to do this.” She nodded, wiping her eyes and straightening her shoulders.

“Then we have to be perfect about this. No mistakes. We can’t let anyone suspect — especially not Riley himself.”

“We’ll work out every detail,” Dad added, his voice regaining its usual firmness, though edged with worry.

“We’ll tell everyone Zaddie is feeling unwell, too nervous to receive guests. We’ll buy time, and we’ll keep looking for her. For now, Zarrie — you become her.” I nodded, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. It was a lie, a dangerous game of pretend — but it was our only chance.

“We have to be so careful,” I warned, my voice quiet but sharp.

“Riley Frost is powerful, sharp, and not easily fooled. If he catches even the smallest inconsistency, this whole plan falls apart, and we all pay the price.”

“We will be,” Mom assured me, squeezing my hands. “We’ll help you remember everything — her habits, her preferences, even the way she speaks and holds herself. No one will know the difference.” The rest of the night passed in a blur. I sat up long after everyone else had gone to bed, going over every detail I could think of — how Zaddie walked, how she laughed, what she liked and disliked. I had to become her, at least for as long as it took to keep our family safe.

When the first pale light of dawn began to seep through the curtains, I looked across the room at Mom and Dad. They looked exhausted, but their eyes held a glimmer of hope now — hope I had given them, at the cost of my own freedom.

“I’m so sorry you have to carry this burden,” Mom said softly.

I shook my head, reaching out to touch her arm.

“Don’t be. It’s my choice. We’re family — this is what we do.”We stood together in the growing light, knowing we were about to step into a web of lies, secrets, and danger.

Tomorrow, I will walk down the aisle wearing my sister’s name. And if Riley Zane Frost discovered the truth? I wasn’t sure whether our family would lose everything — or whether I would lose myself first.

Zarrie Sophie Scott’s POV

The morning of the wedding day, bright and sunny, as if celebrating a union built on a lie. I felt a mixture of anxiety and fear in my gut. It was today. Today, the world would see me as Zaddie Serene Scott, and I would marry the young mafia boss Riley Zane Frost.

I stared at my reflection in the gym mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back. My hair was styled in Zaddie's signature waves, and my makeup was expertly applied to mimic her features. I wore her wedding dress, a breathtaking creation of lace and silk. However, it felt more like a costume, a disguise I was trying to embody.

Mom bustled into the room, her face a mask of forced cheerfulness. "Zarrie, darling, you look absolutely stunning! Just like your sister."

The compliment felt like a punch to the gut. "Thanks, Mom," I managed, my voice barely a whisper.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.

"I have no choice, right?" I replied, forcing a smile.

The hours that followed became a whirlwind of activity. Hairdressers, makeup artists, and dressmakers buzzed around me, their voices a mix of instructions and compliments. I moved through the tasks, trying to focus on each one, but my mind kept drifting back to Zaddie. Where was she? Was she safe? Had she even considered the chaos she had left behind?

As I was being helped into the dress, Mom took my hands, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and desperation. "Remember, Zarrie, you have to be strong. You have to be Zaddie. For us, for the family."

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. "I know, Mom. I'll try to do my best."

A Premier Hotel, a grand estate overlooking the city, was the chosen venue. As the car glided through the gates, a strange feeling settled over me – like entering a gilded cage. The grounds were flawlessly set up, gardens bursting with color, yet the beauty felt... distant, somehow unreal.

The bridal suite was a haven of luxury, yet a sense of being trapped clung to me. I paced, a knot of nerves tightening with each step, waiting for the moment I would have to face the young mafia boss.

Finally, the time came. Mom gave me a final pep talk, adjusted my veil, and led me to the door. "Remember," she whispered, "You're Zaddie. Confident, radiant, and I just want you to know that your Dad and I are proud of you, okay?"

The church doors loomed before me, and I knew there was no turning back.

I took a deep breath and shakily stepped forward, the aisle stretching before me like a spotlight on my deception. The soft silk chiffon of my A-line gown swirled around my legs with each step, light and airy, almost as if it moved on its own. The lace overlay on the bodice caught the soft morning light, glinting faintly, while the thin satin belt hugged my waist just enough to make me feel... elegant.

My veil hid my nervousness yet intensified the butterflies in my stomach.

As I walked, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me. What were they all thinking? The weight of their gazes felt unbearable – I'd always hated being the center of attention. But then Mom's words, whispered just before I walked, echoed in my mind: You're not Zarrie now, you're Zaddie. The music swelled, and I began my walk down the aisle, my eyes fixed on the good-looking guy waiting for me at the altar.

Riley Zane Frost.

He was way more impressive in person. He was taller than I expected, broad-shouldered, with tanned skin and an effortless, commanding presence. His dark hair was neatly styled. But it was his eyes that really grabbed me. His eyes, a deep, piercing brown, held a hint of something unreadable. He exuded power, a quiet confidence. He just had this vibe, this quiet power that made me feel both intimidated and intrigued. Like he knew something I didn't, and I desperately wanted to find out what it was. He wasn't trying to impress anyone, but he just did, effortlessly.

As I drew closer, I could see the subtle details of his face – the strong jawline, his tired eyes fixed straight on me. He was undeniably handsome, but there was also a coldness about him, a guardedness that made me wary. He looked every bit the young mafia boss everyone whispered about.

He watched me approach, his expression giving nothing away, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. As far as I know, he met Zaddie once or twice already. Did he see her in me, the woman he thought he knew? Or did he see a stranger, an imposter, trying to take her place?

When I reached the altar, he barely glanced at me. "Hi," I reluctantly uttered, my voice barely audible. He simply nodded in response, his voice a low, clipped tone that revealed nothing. He effortlessly took my hand; his touch was firm.

The ceremony passed in a blur. I repeated the vows, my voice trembling, trying to channel Zaddie's confidence and grace. I focused on Riley's hand in mine, trying to draw strength from his presence, but I was nervous he might sense it.

And then came the moment I had been dreading: "You may now kiss the bride."

A flutter of panic gripped me. This was it. This was the moment my charade would be tested. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the kiss, for the intimacy I wasn't ready for. Riley stepped closer, and I barely noticed the guests around us. His hand reached for the edge of my veil, lifting it with a slow, careful grace that felt almost ceremonial. My heart leapt, and for a split second, I caught a flash of his eyes—dark, calculating, unreadable.

He didn't smile. He didn't soften. He merely held my gaze, intense and unwavering, like he was measuring me, weighing every thought and intention. I felt exposed under the weight of his scrutiny, but also... strangely seen.

"You're nervous," he said, his voice low. He leaned in close enough that I could almost taste the mint of his breath. His lips barely moved as he spoke.

"I—" I faltered, unsure what to say, my words caught in my throat.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, cold and analytical. "Relax," he murmured, voice calm yet firm, each syllable carrying authority. "Not now."

He didn't press further, didn't force me forward. Instead, he released my veil entirely, letting it fall back gracefully. My chest tightened as I realized he had just asserted control over the moment, and over me, without a word. The guests cheered, oblivious to the silent tension that had passed between us, but I felt it keenly—an invisible boundary, a test of composure.

I forced myself to keep moving, focusing on my steps, on the soft rustle of the gown around my legs, on the steady beat of my own heart. But even as I tried to center myself, I couldn't shake the feeling that Riley had already marked me—studied me—and that his cold, meticulous presence would shadow every step of this wedding, every moment of this charade.

The reception was a whirlwind of congratulations, toasts, and forced smiles. I tried to act like Zaddie, smiling with guests, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of being scrutinized.

My parents were among the first to approach us as we stepped away from the altar. Mom enveloped me in a hug, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "My darling, Zaddie," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You look absolutely radiant. We're so happy for you both."

Dad clapped Riley on the shoulder, his expression more reserved. "Take good care of our daughter, Riley," he said, his voice firm but warm.

Riley's eyes met Dad's with a sharp, unwavering intensity. "I will," he said, voice low and measured, almost clipped. No smile, no softness. Just a silent assurance that left no room for doubt.

As the night wore on, my worry for Zaddie grew. Mom and Dad kept giving me reassuring glances, but I could see the anxiety in their eyes. They hadn't heard from her. She was still out there, somewhere, and we had no idea if she was safe.

I caught Riley watching me several times throughout the evening, his expression giving nothing away. I studied him, desperate to read his thoughts, but couldn't tell if he suspected anything. He was a closed book, a mystery I was desperate to solve.

"Sir, your parents are waiting for you and your wife at the main table," a broad-shouldered man whispered to Riley.

And as I walked away with him, into the darkness, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Had I made the right decision? Was I strong enough to pull off this charade? And what would happen when Riley finally decided to claim what he thought was his? Would my secret survive the night?

Zarrie Sophie Scott’s POV

The limousine purred to a halt before the imposing gates of the Frost mansion. It wasn't just a house; it was a fortress of stone and steel, a monument to the family's power. As we drove up the long, winding driveway, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. This wasn't a home; it was a statement to generations of wealth and power. The imposing façade of the house seemed to loom over me, a silent promise of the life I was about to enter. Or rather, the life Zaddie was supposed to enter.

Riley stepped out of the car, his movements fluid and controlled. He didn't offer me his hand, didn't even glance in my direction. He simply waited, his presence radiating an aura of cold command. I took a deep breath and followed him, trying to project an air of confidence that I didn't feel.

The front doors were opened by Mrs. Foster, a woman with a severe face and an even more severe demeanor. She was the head housekeeper, the matriarch of the staff, and her eyes missed nothing. "Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Frost," she said, her voice crisp and professional. "I trust your wedding was satisfactory?"

Riley simply nodded as a response. "Mrs. Foster, this is Zaddie."

Mrs. Foster's gaze swept over me, assessing every detail of my appearance. I could feel her scrutiny, her silent judgment. "Welcome to the Frost mansion, Mrs. Frost," she said finally, her voice softening slightly. "I hope you will be comfortable here."

"Thank you," I replied, trying to meet her gaze without flinching.

As we entered the mansion, I was struck by its sheer scale. The foyer was vast, with a soaring ceiling, marble floors, and a grand staircase that seemed to disappear into the shadows. The air was thick with the scent of old money and unspoken secrets.

"The east wing is yours," Riley said, his voice cutting through the silence. "It includes the master suite, a private study, and a sitting room. Mrs. Foster will show you around."

He turned and walked away, disappearing down a long corridor without another word. I watched him go, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. This was it. This was my new life.

Mrs. Foster led me through the mansion, her footsteps echoing on the polished floors. The east wing was even more opulent than the rest of the house, filled with priceless antiques, original artwork, and luxurious furnishings. It was beautiful, but it was also cold and impersonal, a museum rather than a home.

The master suite was enormous, with a king-sized bed, a fireplace, and a balcony overlooking the gardens. The bathroom was equally lavish, with a Jacuzzi tub, a walk-in shower, and a vanity stocked with expensive toiletries.

"Mr. Frost has excellent taste," Mrs. Foster said, her voice neutral. "Is there anything else you require, Mrs. Frost?"

"No, thank you," I replied. "I think I have everything I need."

She nodded and turned to leave, pausing at the door. "If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask," she said, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. "We're here to serve."

I watched her go, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Her words were polite, but her tone was a warning. I was a guest in this house, and I would always be an outsider.

As the days passed, I tried to adjust to my new life, to find my place in the Frost mansion. I spent hours exploring the house, wandering through its endless corridors, its hidden rooms, its secret passages. I learned the names of the staff, the routines of the household, the unspoken rules of the family.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was living a lie. I was pretending to be Zaddie, but I wasn't her. I didn't have her confidence, her charm, her ability to navigate the treacherous waters of the Frost family.

I also worried about my parents. Had they seen Zaddie? Did they know that I was impersonating her? I longed to call them, to reassure them that I was okay, but I knew that any contact could put them in danger.

One evening, as I was sitting in the library, trying to read a book, Riley entered the room. He didn't knock, didn't even acknowledge my presence. He simply walked over to the fireplace and stared into the flames.

After a long silence, I decided to break the ice. "So," I said, trying to sound casual, "I was thinking about redecorating the sitting room. Maybe something a little less...stark?"

He turned, his expression unreadable. "Do what you want with the house," he said, his voice flat. "Within reason."

"Within reason?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"It means," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, "that I won't have you tearing down walls or replacing the antiques with beanbag chairs."

I chuckled, surprised by his unexpected humor. "No beanbag chairs, I promise. But maybe a few more flowers? I noticed some are missing."

His brow furrowed. "Flowers?"

"Yes," I said, "I put a few in my room, and they disappeared. I like having them around."

He stared at me for a moment, as if trying to understand my fascination with something so trivial. "I'll have Mrs. Foster look into it," he said finally.

"Since we are talking about boundaries, I have a few ones of my own."

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

"I expect privacy," I said. "I want to be able to come and go as I please, without being followed or questioned. And I want the freedom to pursue my own interests, without interference."

He considered my demands for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Those seem reasonable," he said finally. "As long as they don't interfere with my own...activities."

"They won't," I said, meeting his gaze head-on.

"But I have one condition." I was waiting for the next words he was about to say.

"What is it?" I asked, intrigued.

"You can do whatever you want with this house, but do not ever enter my room." He said, his voice hardening slightly.

I met his gaze, trying to decipher the seriousness in his eyes. "Okay," I said, my voice equally firm. "We have an agreement, then?"

"We have an agreement," he confirmed. I immediately felt nervous as my eyes met his.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." He turned and walked out of the library, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

"Wait," I stopped him, reluctantly I pursed my lips.

"and one more thing—no other women. I mean…" He furrowed his eyebrows and seemed processing what I have said before a smile etched on his face.

"Just so you know, I'm not into sharing." I reasoned out. I personally don't know where my confidence came from to say that.

"Good. Neither am I." He firmly responded.

I sank into one of the leather armchairs after watching him making his way out, letting out a long breath I felt I’d been holding since the wedding. We had rules. We had boundaries. For the first time all day, the tight knot in my chest loosened just a little.

Then my phone buzzed once in the pocket of my dress — quiet, but impossible to miss.

I pulled it out quickly, half-afraid of what I’d see. The screen glowed with a single text from Mom, sent just moments ago.

"We found a lead on where Zaddie is."