ed to anymore. Covington. A name that once meant something in New England, now just a faded echo. My upcoming marriage

oking for a companion. Not a wife, not a partner, a "companion." The whispers painted him as a monster, disfigured,

all, anxious circle, Tho

me,

-sister

who embodied all the social ambition our family desperately craved. I was th

an found me in the dusty conservatory, where I was sketching the

, his usual smooth

ice urgent, taking my

lope, tonight

y heart giving a s

what are you

st trust me. Please, Av

grand romantic gesture to sweep me away from the suffocating w

aid

dn' t know, a justice of the peace who looked bored. I

t smelled of stale cigarettes and re

, pacing, "she was

know. The whole wo

ir. "This changes everything. You have to tell everyone we wer

oom t

Why,

er, if her sister is married to the man she was supposedly seeing, it creates a scandal. T

y true wife. We' ll have to deal with some awkwardne

He wanted me as a shield, a convenient, deniable wife, while h

heap ring on my finger su

barely a whisper. "To be your public e

t' s not like that. It' s to prot

Ethan? A rich man? Or pr

uth. This wasn't love, this was a trans