Chapter 32

Maya’s POV

Today’s the day. To be honest, I feel far more petrified than excited—or even happy. Is this what they call cold feet? Or is this simply the standard bridal pre-ceremony jitters? Most brides marry for love, for that pink-and-white childhood fantasy. Me? I’m walking down the aisle for revenge, at least officially—just a formality, a prologue to our real agenda.

“He insisted on this,” I muttered inwardly, staring at my reflection in the gold-framed mirror.

But the woman in the glass isn’t Maya Carter. She’s Laura Hoffmann: platinum blonde hair swept into an elegant updo, emerald-green contacts—although my naturally blue eyes are turning the lenses a faint teal—and the most stunning champagne-hued wedding gown, embroidered with intricate gold filigree. I don’t look like me, which is precisely the point. The last thing I need is someone re