Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

MARIGOLD

W ell, this sure got away from me quickly.

Half an hour ago, I was Marigold Reed, the same insignificant girl I've always been. And now, I'm Marigold soon-to-be Bancroft. A lie, but one the entire public was about to believe. And if the world believed it, didn't that make it true to some degree? Where was the line?

The panic started to settle in as Zayn and I walked back to his car. My heart was pounding, and my thoughts raced, trying to piece together the series of events that led me here. How had I gone from a simple waitress and bank teller to being on the brink of announcing a fake engagement to Zayn Bancroft, one of the wealthiest men in the city?

As soon as we reached the car, Zayn started talking about announcing our engagement next week. "We'll need to get the details right," he said casually, as if this was all perfectly normal. "Get some photos taken, settle on a few ideas for the wedding."

"What wedding?" I gasped, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"Our fictional one." He winked, like this was all some grand joke we were both in on.

"You want me to actually marry you?"

"What did you think I was proposing?"

I shook my head. I really thought our marriage was going to be fake in all ways.

"You strike me as a daisy sort of girl. But Bancrofts are too rich to have daisies at their wedding. How do you feel about white and yellow roses as a compromise?"

The world spun. I couldn't think straight. Wedding? Flowers? I was going to hurl.

I sank down onto the curb, putting my head between my knees, desperate to stave off the overwhelming nausea that surged through me. This was all happening too fast.

I didn't care how I was dressed. If I didn't sit down, I would have collapsed.

Zayn hesitated for a moment, then sat down beside me, placing a tentative hand on my back. "Hey, it's not real, remember?" he said, his voice gentle, as if he was trying to soothe a wild animal. "It's just a PR stunt. The wedding will never happen. There won't be a marriage license or anything like that."

That was a relief.

Kind of.

"It's a staged wedding?"

"Yes," he said. "We'll call it off when the time is right."

"We?" I managed to choke out. "If this is to clean up your reputation, won't I have to dump you? I'm supposed to be the bad guy, so you look like the victim in the situation. That's the goal, right?"

He paused, thinking about it. "I suppose so."

I sighed, wondering what I was getting myself into.

"Who is going to believe that a nobody like me would break up with a Bancroft like you?" I couldn't help the bitterness in my tone. This entire situation felt like a cruel joke. No one would believe I would dump him. They were going to have a hard time believing he ever proposed marriage in the first place.

He looked thoughtful.

"If we're going to lie, we have to be smart about it," I said. "I'm not interested in coming out the other side of this as a villain for the world to hate. Not even half a million dollars is worth that to me. I have integrity."

"We can make it mutual," he offered, his voice tentative, as if he wasn't entirely convinced of his own suggestion.

I shook my head. "I don't see how that will work either," I said, frustration bubbling up inside me.

"We have time to figure it out," he said. "You'll just have to trust me on this. It'll be okay."

The word "trust" hung between us, heavy and uncertain.

"I need to go home," I said finally, pushing myself to my feet. "I need to clear my head."

Zayn stood up with me, his expression still concerned. "I'll drive you."

"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "Absolutely not. It's bad enough you found me at work."

"I don't think that's bad."

"Speaking of, how exactly did you find me?" I asked curiously.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I called Elaine and Carlos," he admitted. "They pointed me in the right direction."

My jaw dropped. "You what?" I sputtered, my eyes wide with disbelief. "You called Elaine and Carlos?"

"They were happy to help," he said, his grin widening.

I glared at him. "You're unbelievable."

"They're your friends, aren't they?" he said, still amused. "They just wanted to make sure you were okay."

I couldn't believe this. "I'm going to give Elaine a piece of my mind," I muttered under my breath.

Zayn just laughed. "I'm sure you will."

"I'm leaving."

"I need your number," he said. "Wife."

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't going to give it to him until I remembered the money now in my account. We exchanged numbers.

"Let me give you a ride," he said.

"No. I need to be alone. I don't know if I like you right now."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. I'll call you."

I made my way to the subway, my mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. As soon as I was on the train, I pulled out my phone and called Elaine.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hey, what's up?"

"What's up?" I echoed, my voice rising in pitch. "Elaine, why did you tell Zayn where to find me?"

She laughed, clearly not taking me seriously. "Oh, come on, Marigold. It was funny."

"Funny?" I repeated, incredulous.

"You made me lie to all my guests the night of my wedding!"

I paused. She had a point.

"Let's say we're square now. Deal?" she said, still laughing.

I sighed, knowing she was right. "Fine," I grumbled.

"So, how did it go?"

"Terribly," I said, rubbing my temples.

I wanted to tell her about the arrangement but held back. She would think I was nuts. Or a whore.

"Are you on the subway?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm on my way home."

"What? I would have thought you would be with Zayn."

"No."

"Did you not want to see him?" she asked with concern.

I sighed, pressing the heel of my palm into my temple. "It's complicated, Elaine. Very complicated."

"Complicated?" she asked, her tone cautious now. "How so?"

"I can't really talk about it, yet," I muttered evasively.

She paused on the other end of the line, a silent understanding passing between us. "All right," she said finally, though her voice held a note of suspicion. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know." I blinked at the blur of stations passing by in the subway window. "I just need some time to process, is all."

"Fair enough."

"I'll talk to you later," I said. "My stop is coming up. You enjoy your new husband."

As the subway came to a halt, I gathered my belongings and stepped off onto the platform. The city seemed eerily quiet as I emerged from the underground station, lost in thought.

When I finally got home, I felt like I was moving on autopilot. I changed out of my work clothes, took a long shower, and then collapsed onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling as the day's events replayed in my mind.

I wished I could call the one person who would be the compass in a moment like this.

My mother.

Just thinking about her made my heart squeeze. She was long gone, and there was no one else in my life who could fill that role. I closed my eyes and imagined how the conversation might go in my head.

"Mom," I whispered into the quiet darkness of my room. "I've really done it this time. I've gotten myself into something I don't know how to get out of."

I could almost hear her voice, soft and warm, like a comforting blanket. "Marigold, you always manage to find yourself in the most interesting situations."

I smiled, a bittersweet ache in my chest. "Yeah, this one takes the cake."

Her laugh echoed in my mind, light and full of love. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice trembling. "I'm in way over my head. I'm pretending to be engaged to this guy—Zayn Bancroft—just to help him clean up his reputation. But it feels so… wrong."

"Of course, it feels wrong," she would say, always the voice of reason. "Because it is wrong. But sometimes, darling, life throws you a curveball, and all you can do is swing."

I sighed, sinking deeper into the memory of her voice. "But what if I miss?"

"Then you'll deal with it, just like you always do. But you won't miss, Marigold. You never do."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I let her imagined words wash over me. I missed her so much. I missed her wisdom, her guidance, the way she always knew what to say to make everything seem a little less daunting.

"It's a bad idea, isn't it?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "It's probably going to end horribly wrong."

"It might." She would say, never one to sugarcoat the truth. "But it will be a wonderful adventure."

I let out a shaky breath, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over me. "Yeah, I guess it will."

"Just promise me one thing," her voice would say, serious now.

"Anything," I whispered.

"Don't lose yourself in all of this. Remember who you are and why you're doing this."

I nodded, even though there was no one there to see it. "I promise."

The room was silent again. A wave of exhaustion crashed over me. My mind was still racing, but the panic had subsided, replaced by a quiet determination. I wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but I knew I had to see this through. I couldn't back out now, not when I'd already agreed to this insane plan.

But I could do it on my own terms. I could make sure that, no matter what happened, I came out of this with my integrity intact. I wouldn't let myself be swept away by the madness of it all.

Was I selling my soul?

Maybe.

Was it worth it?

It was a hell of a lot better than sleeping on the streets. The money gave me a chance to reset. I had no intention of squandering it. I would never have that kind of money again. I was going to use every penny to set myself up to do something amazing. I didn't know what that was yet, but I had some time to do the right thing.

I was going to do the whole fake wedding.

I couldn't believe it. After the stunt I pulled in Mallorca, I really never thought I would ever do something so ridiculous again. And here I was jumping right back into same situation, but the stakes were much higher.

It would probably be a good idea to know exactly who I was fake marrying. I got up and grabbed my laptop that was old enough to be in a museum, but it still worked. It wasn't going to win any speed contests but I wasn't a gamer. I didn't need speed or fancy bells and whistles.

I typed Zayn Bancroft into the search bar. I needed to understand the man I was now supposedly engaged to.

There was no shortage of information about the man. He was clearly far more famous than I thought. The more I read, the more I realized how carefully curated his public image was. He was the perfect blend of charm, sophistication, and philanthropy—everything the media loved to fawn over.

But lately, the media was not so kind. The whispers of scandal, the rumors of affairs, the stories that painted him as ruthless in business and cold in his personal life. It was clear that his reputation needed some serious damage control, and I was the pawn he'd chosen to help him do it.