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The thought sends a thrill through me that I quickly push down. Not yet. I can't let myself feel the freedom yet, not when I still have to get through tonight. Not when Gio is downstairs waiting, probably checking his watch and wondering what's taking me so long.

I slide the heavy engagement ring onto my finger, feeling its familiar weight settle against my skin. Three carats of flawlessdiamond that might as well be a chain. One more night of wearing it. One more night of pretending it means something to me other than obligation and expectation.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway makes me straighten my shoulders. Showtime.

"Come in," I call, arranging my face into the pleasant expression that's become second nature.

Gio enters without knocking, which should annoy me but doesn't surprise me. Nothing about my space has ever been off-limits to him, not since the engagement. He's dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that probably costs more than most people make in a month, his dark hair styled exactly right, not a single detail out of place. He looks like what he is—a man who owns everything he touches.

His eyes sweep over me in that way that makes my skin crawl, assessing, cataloguing, claiming. I force myself not to step back.

"You look perfect," he says, crossing to where I stand. "Absolutely perfect."

"Thank you." I keep my voice warm, friendly. The voice of a woman who's happy to see her fiancé. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

He reaches for my hands, lifting them to examine my appearance more closely. His fingers are cold against mine, and I have to concentrate on not pulling away.

"The dress is ideal for tonight. Sophisticated but not conservative. You'll make exactly the right impression on the investors." He releases one of my hands to touch the diamond necklace at my throat. "This complements the ring beautifully."

I nod, playing along. "I wanted everything to be perfect for tonight. I know how important this reception is."

"It is important." His hand settles on my waist, possessive and firm. "These investors have the potential to changeeverything for Worthington Sports. With their backing, we could expand nationwide within five years."

I let him guide me toward the bedroom door, matching his pace even though every instinct screams at me to run. Tomorrow. I just have to make it through tonight, and then tomorrow, Reign and I will disappear. No more pretending. No more performing.

"Tell me about the investors," I say as we walk down the hallway. It's easier to focus on logistics than on the weight of his hand on my back. "What should I know?"

"Scott Duncan runs a private equity firm out of San Francisco. Conservative, traditional values. He'll appreciate seeing a stable couple." We reach the top of the stairs, and Gio pauses. "Rachel Morrison is new money, tech industry. She responds well to confidence and innovation."

I nod along as he continues briefing me, memorizing names and details I'll never need to remember past tonight. The information slides through my mind like water, meaningless now that I know I won't be part of this world much longer.

"You're quiet today," Gio observes as we descend the staircase. "Everything alright?"

The question catches me off guard. I've been so focused on acting normal that I haven't considered whether normal for me includes being more talkative.

"Just thinking about tonight," I say, which isn't entirely a lie. "I want to make sure I say all the right things."

He stops at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face me fully. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones in what anyone watching would think is a tender gesture.

"You don't need to worry about that. Just be yourself." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "The woman I fell in love with is perfect exactly as she is."

The words should be romantic. They should make me feel cherished, wanted. Instead, they make me want to laugh. He didn't fall in love with me. He fell in love with the idea of me—the Worthington name, the family connections, the way I look on his arm at events like tonight. He's never seen the real me, never wanted to.

But Reign has. Reign sees everything I am and wants it all.

"That's sweet of you to say," I manage, letting him see what he expects—gratitude, affection, the soft pleasure of a woman hearing exactly what she needs to hear.

He leans down and presses his lips to mine, a claiming more than a kiss. I don't pull away, don't resist, but I don't respond either. I simply endure it, counting the seconds until he releases me.

"Ready?" he asks against my mouth.

"Ready."

The drive to the reception venue passes in comfortable silence, at least on the surface. Gio reviews his notes on his phone while I watch the Cooper Heights scenery roll past the tinted windows. The familiar streets, the manicured lawns, the perfect houses hiding imperfect lives. Tomorrow, I'll see all of this in my rearview mirror for the last time.

"Remember," Gio says as we pull up to the Worthington Arena, "tonight is about building relationships. Let them see how happy we are together, how solid our partnership is."

Partnership. Not love, not romance. Partnership. At least he's honest about what this is.