The Rehearsal Clash

The Knight Building’s rooftop garden looked like something out of a glossy lifestyle magazine.

Strings of fairy lights were draped along wrought-iron trellises, and clusters of white roses surrounded a marble arch where, in just two days, I would be standing in front of an officiant with Adrian Knight at my side.

At least, that was the plan.

Sofia had brought me early to the rehearsal, chirping about “getting familiar with the space” while subtly guiding me away from the catering staff and photographers. I wore a simple cream dress she’d picked out—something “classy but unassuming” as she called it. My heels kept catching in the wooden slats of the deck, but I forced myself to walk like I belonged there.

The first person I spotted was Adrian, standing near the arch in a dark tailored suit, speaking to a man I recognized from online articles—Hugo Knight, his younger brother. Hugo was the more relaxed-looking version of Adrian: same sharp cheekbones and dark hair, but his posture leaned casual, his smile easy.

When Adrian saw me, he excused himself from Hugo and crossed the garden. “You’re early.”

“Sofia insisted,” I said.

His gaze swept over me once, deliberate. “You look… right for this.”

Before I could respond, a cold, lilting voice cut through the air.

“So this is her.”

I turned to see Miranda Knight approaching. She was tall, poised, and immaculate in a deep burgundy dress that probably cost more than my car. Her blonde hair was twisted into a chignon, and diamonds glittered at her ears. The faintest smile curved her lips, but her eyes were ice.

“Miranda,” Adrian said coolly. “This is Emma Carter. My fiancée.”

Her gaze skimmed over me like I was a menu item she had no intention of ordering. “You’re… not what I expected.”

“I get that a lot,” I said evenly.

One of her eyebrows arched ever so slightly. “Do you mind if I speak to you alone, Miss Carter?”

Adrian’s jaw tightened, but I nodded. “It’s fine.”

She led me to a quieter corner of the garden, away from the hum of staff and clinking glassware.

“I’ll be blunt,” she said. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Marrying Adrian?”

“Entering this family,” she corrected. “We’re not kind to outsiders.”

“I’m not asking for kindness,” I said. “Just space to breathe.”

Her smile sharpened. “That’s the thing—you won’t get it. Not from the media, not from the board, and certainly not from me. I know why you’re here, Miss Carter. And I won’t let you ruin everything we’ve built.”

“I’m not here to ruin anything,” I said, my voice steady. “This is a one-year arrangement. Then I’m gone.”

Miranda’s eyes narrowed. “One year can do plenty of damage.”

She brushed past me before I could respond, heels clicking against the deck. I let out a slow breath, forcing my shoulders to relax before I turned back to the rehearsal space.

The officiant arrived—a dignified older man named Reverend Hale—and the small group assembled to run through the ceremony. There was Hugo, Miranda, a handful of Adrian’s associates, and no one from my side of the family. Sofia explained it was “better for optics” if the guest list was kept to Knight-approved attendees.

We practiced walking down the aisle, where I was meant to pause just before the arch so Adrian could take my hand. He did so now, his grip firm but warm.

“You’re pale,” he murmured.

“I just had a lovely heart-to-heart with your stepmother,” I whispered back.

His eyes flicked briefly toward Miranda. “Ignore her.”

“That’s… not going to be easy.”

“Then focus on me.”

I glanced up at him, and for a moment, the rest of the garden faded. His expression was unreadable, but there was a steadiness there—something I could lean on if I chose to.

After the rehearsal, Sofia ushered me toward the exit, but Hugo intercepted us.

“Emma, right?” he said with a grin. “I hear you’ve agreed to marry my brother. Brave choice.”

“Thanks… I think.”

He glanced at Adrian across the garden. “Don’t let him scare you. He means well—most of the time.”

“That’s comforting,” I said dryly.

Hugo’s grin widened. “If you ever need a translator for Knight-speak, I’m your guy.”

I wasn’t sure if he was joking, but there was an openness in his tone that I hadn’t felt from anyone else here—except maybe Sofia.

In the car ride back to the estate, Adrian was quiet until we hit a red light.

“What did Miranda say to you?” he asked.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“That’s not an answer.”

I looked out the window. “She warned me this family isn’t kind to outsiders. And that she won’t make it easy for me.”

His jaw flexed. “She won’t. But she’s not the one you’re marrying.”

“Right,” I said. “I’m marrying a man who’s marrying me for business reasons.”

His gaze flicked toward me, sharp. “And you agreed. Remember that.”

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

Back at the estate, I found Sofia waiting in the foyer with a garment bag.

“Final fitting,” she announced, leading me upstairs. “Tomorrow is media day, so you’ll need to be ready for photos.”

“Media day?” I asked, stepping into the guest suite that had been transformed into a mini dressing room.

“Just a brief announcement. We’ll release one photo of you and Mr. Knight to confirm the engagement. It will help control the narrative.”

“Control the narrative,” I repeated, trying not to feel like a pawn.

Sofia zipped open the garment bag to reveal my wedding dress. It was breathtaking—simple lines, delicate lace at the sleeves, and a skirt that flowed like water.

“Try it on,” she said.

As I stepped into the dress, the reality of it all hit me in a way it hadn’t before. This was happening. In less than forty-eight hours, I’d stand in front of the world as Mrs. Adrian Knight.

And somewhere deep down, a part of me wasn’t sure if I was ready—or if readiness even mattered anymore.

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