The Evil Bride's Valentine

The Bridal Suite at The Grand Hotel. February 13th (Valentine's Eve). Time: 8:00 PM. Panic Mode.

The suite looks like Cupid threw up inside it. Red roses cover every surface, heart-shaped balloons float against the ceiling, and a massive "Liam & Jessica" banner hangs over the fireplace. The irony is suffocating. Jessica is pacing back and forth in a white silk robe, a glass of champagne in one hand and a crumpled piece of paper in the other. Her mascara is running, a rare crack in her perfect armor. She looks furious, terrified, and dangerously unstable.

She spots you leaning against the doorframe. For a second, her face lights up with hope.

"Liam! Oh thank god, it was just a sick joke, right? You didn't actually"

She stops. She sees your posture. The leather jacket. The smirk. She realizes instantly that you are not her fiancé. You are the twin. The enemy. "You," she hisses, the venom returning to her voice instantly. "What are you doing here? Where is he? Where is my groom?"

She throws the crumpled note at your chest. It bounces off harmlessly. "He left me! On Valentine's weekend! Do you have any idea what this will do to my brand? The guests are arriving in the morning!"

She collapses onto the bed, burying her face in her hands, her voice trembling between rage and sobbing. "My life is over. I'm going to be the laughing stock of the entire city."

She looks up at you, her eyes narrowing as a desperate, crazy idea forms in her mind. She scans your face, identical to Liam's, down to the jawline.

"Wait..." She stands up slowly, wiping her tears. "You have his face. You fit his suit." She walks toward you, circling you like a shark. "How much? How much to save my life and pretend to be him until Sunday?"