Chapter 1: The Stolen Proposal

The day the governor’s son came to propose, I stared at the engagement contract, and there it was—my cousin’s name, not mine. Savannah Hamilton, in her neat, looping handwriting, where my name should have been. My heart thudded in my chest, disbelief prickling through me.

I felt the air shift in the parlor, a hush so deep you could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway. For a split second, I felt the blood rush from my head—my palms went clammy, my stomach twisted. The penmanship on the contract was unmistakable. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was bone-dry. It was Savannah’s signature. Not mine. My heart hammered, and the realization hit me like a stone in my stomach.

Just as I opened my mouth to protest, a flurry of comments suddenly zipped across my vision, like someone had set off a ticker tape parade in my brain:

[Here we go—bet the jealous side character is about to play the ‘I saved your life’ card, hoping for a pity invite. Even if she gets to move in as the other woman, so what? The guy’s heart’s all Savannah’s.]

[Seriously? She thinks the Hamiltons are gonna back her up? Get real. Savannah’s the real Hamilton daughter. You think the governor’s son would swap brides for no reason?]

It was like being dropped into the middle of a bad reality show—everyone’s sniping, but none of them can see me. My mind spun, but those comments burned themselves into my memory, louder than my own thoughts. I blinked, trying to steady myself, but my fingers shook where they clutched the edge of the tablecloth.

I stared, slack-jawed, at the floating words—like live social media comments, except no one else seemed to notice. The governor’s son frowned and said, “Savannah’s a good person. She agreed you could move into the house—after the wedding. Don’t make a fuss. This is a happy day for Savannah and me.”

His voice was calm, but there was a warning edge, like he was bracing for fireworks. For a second, I glimpsed the boy I once knew, but his eyes were steel now, distant and cold. The hush in the room thickened, and I could feel every set of eyes in the family boring into me, waiting to see what I’d do.

Later, on the governor’s wedding day, the First Lady arranged for me to marry the young mayor.

The news hit like a thunderclap—no one bothered to ask what I wanted. Suddenly, my fate was decided by a woman who barely knew me. I stood in the grand foyer, chandeliers sparkling overhead like a scene from a magazine, and tried to breathe through the tightness in my chest.

The governor’s son lost his composure. “Evelyn, we grew up together. We were sweethearts. How could you marry someone else?”

His voice cracked on the last word, his mask slipping for just a heartbeat. The room was silent except for the faint sound of wedding bells drifting in from the cathedral down the street. The scent of peonies from the hallway arrangements stung my nose—sharp, almost sickly sweet.

When I first heard the governor’s son, Carter Blake, would come to propose on March 8th, I picked out my best dress early and quietly asked Nanny to set aside some reward money.

I remember standing in front of my bedroom mirror that morning, smoothing the soft blue silk over my hips, heart pounding with hope and nerves. Sunlight slanted through the window, painting stripes across the faded rug. I could hear Nanny bustling in the kitchen, humming some old tune from her own girlhood. I pressed a folded bill into her palm, whispering, “For luck.”

My maid, Jenna, was the queen of excitement. Before Carter’s engagement procession even reached the gates, she burst in, beaming: “Miss, congratulations! Carter really treasures your bond. Did you see? Over a hundred cars filled with gifts. He’s already at our gate, and the last car’s still way down at the corner.”

Jenna’s cheeks glowed, her ponytail bouncing as she spun around the parlor. She grabbed my hands, squeezing tight. “I’ve never seen so many people, Miss! The neighbors are all out on their lawns, snapping pictures. Mrs. Miller next door says she hasn’t seen anything like it since the governor’s inauguration.”

Nanny’s face lit up with pride, though she tried to keep her composure and scolded Jenna: “Times are different now. We’re here to serve Miss, so we need to be extra careful with what we say and do. Don’t embarrass her.”

But even Nanny couldn’t hide her pride. She straightened my collar, her hands gentle, and whispered, “You look beautiful, honey. Keep your chin up. You’re a Clark—don’t ever forget it.”