"This is your decision?" my mother asked under the moonlight, voice sharpened like an accusation.
"It is my decision," I said. "I'm not asking for approval."
"You don't understand what you're offering," Lucille said. She rubbed her hands together like she was trying to smooth a crease in fate. Denise stood beside her, lips curved into a smile that looked practiced in a mirror.
Denise's smile was all teeth. "Keira, think. Nguyen Holdings could buy our hospital wing twice over. Brooks will host them. The cameras will eat this alive. You save our name, you save our fortunes."
"I won't save you for free," I said.
Lucille made a small sound. "Of course not free. You will—"
"I owe you nothing," I cut in. The words landed cleaner than I expected. Denise's smile faltered for a beat. The two of them had rehearsed every angle. They had not rehearsed defiance.
Lucille took a step closer. "You grew up here. Denisa—" she corrected herself with a sweetened, false tenderness— "Denise is the face we picked. You will step in. You'll be the substitute bride."
I laughed once. "Substitute. Like a bandage."
"Keira." Lucille's voice turned thin. "The scandal if we refuse—Brooks will pull the hospital's donors. Summit will suffer. Your father—"
"Stop," I said. "Don't name him."
Denise flinched. She had the look of someone startled that a conversation had a surface she couldn't smooth over. "Don't be
