Chapter 1: I’ll Marry the Man in a Coma

“Fine, I’ll marry him.”

There was a beat—a split second where my own words echoed in my ears. Did I really just say that? The declaration landed in the room like a dropped glass, bringing the whole shouting match in city hall to a dead stop. Charlotte Ashford, the governor’s daughter, who’d been locked in battle with the city council, froze, her hand still up, whatever point she’d been about to make totally forgotten.

For a second, all I could hear was the click of her heels on the marble as she spun around, her face carved with disbelief. “How could the mayor’s eldest daughter marry—wait, what did you just say?”

I stood my ground. My voice didn’t waver. “I said, if Savannah can’t marry him, then I will.”

Everything went dead quiet. Even the courthouse clock seemed to stop. Every eye was on me. The air felt electric, like static before a storm. It felt like the whole town was holding its breath.

Charlotte’s frown deepened. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Autumn—”

But I cut her off, chin up, defiant. “I’ve admired Jackson Whitaker for a long time. So what if he’s in a coma?”

Bored with the spectacle, I turned on my heel and strode out of the grand chamber. The train of my sundress whispered behind me. My heart was thumping, but my face stayed a perfect mask.

Suddenly, someone shouted behind me, raw and desperate. “But didn’t you say you’d only ever marry me!”

He blurted it out, his face darkening, all composure gone. The words just hung there between us, heavy as summer thunder. Great. Just what I needed.

I paused with my back to him, letting the moment stretch. Then I turned, flashed a crooked, mocking smile. “Not for a long time.”

My words stung. I could feel his gaze burning between my shoulder blades as I walked away. I didn’t look back.

“Sis, Sis, wait up! Sis!” Savannah’s voice chased after me. Her shoes clacked across the floor behind me.

She caught up, breathless and pink-cheeked, her bright eyes swimming with tears. She looked heartbreakingly young, clutching my sleeve like it was the only solid thing in a world gone crazy.

“Sis, are you really going to marry Jackson? But he’s still in bed, hooked up to IVs every day—no one even knows if he’ll ever wake up…”

I looked down at her—she was so much smaller, always fragile next to me. I always felt too big, too sharp-edged to be the comforting type.

“Yes.”

Savannah’s voice trembled. “I really don’t understand why Dad insists on marrying one of us off to him. Jackson’s done so much for the town, and he deserves respect, but if you marry him, Sis, aren’t you just… just going to be a widow…”

I cut her off. “That’s how you keep people loyal, Savannah. Don’t bring it up again.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “But Sis, I thought you only loved Marcus? Since when did you fall for Jackson?”

I shrugged, a little too quickly. “You aren’t me. How would you know?”

She pressed on, voice small but stubborn. “Have you two even met before?”

I shook my head. The truth was sharp and cold.

Savannah’s voice softened, apologetic. “Oh, right, Sis, I’m sorry… Remember at the Fourth of July fair, when we both fell in the lake? I didn’t expect Marcus to save me…”

I cut her off, the memory stinging. “No need to bring that up.”

“Marcus really likes you, Sis…”

I scoffed. “Then maybe I’ll go ask Dad to marry me off to Marcus.”

She stammered, totally caught off guard. “Uh, well, that’s…”

I let a sly smile curl at my lips. “So that’d leave you to marry Jackson for my sake. You willing to make that sacrifice, Sis?”

She blushed, eyes darting away. “I… Of course I am, but Sis, I thought you… liked Jackson?”

I stared at her for a long moment, then let out a dry, hollow laugh. “Yeah.”

From across the courthouse lobby, I caught a glimpse of Marcus—tall, reserved, his eyes shadowed. He must have heard every word.

So I raised my voice, just to be sure he heard me. “At the Fourth of July fair, you gave Marcus a friendship bracelet, and he accepted it.”

I let the words hang, a little too loud. “I thought you two were already trading bracelets and poems in private, so why is everyone asking today if Marcus loves me, or if I love Marcus, acting like it’s some unrequited longing?”

Marcus’s jaw twitched, a flash of something complicated passing over his face. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

I straightened my shoulders. My voice was clear. “I wish you two a long and happy life together.”

My name is Autumn Ashford, daughter of the current mayor and his late wife. The title tastes foreign in my mouth now. But it’s all I have left.

Savannah is the current mayor’s daughter, my only sister by blood, though the town always whispered we weren’t really sisters. We were the two Ashford girls—one always in the sun, the other forever in the shade.

The current mayor’s wife—my aunt—is my mom’s sister. When my mother was ousted, she was just a nobody, a shadow in the corner of every family photo.

Dad despised me, especially after my mother was accused of having an affair with a security guard. She was dragged from her bed and, on the spot, took her own life. The scandal was the talk of every Sunday dinner and PTA meeting for months.

With that crash, my privileged life, my future of endless riches, toppled in an instant. I remember the sound most. The sickening finality.

I grew up draped in designer clothes and jewelry—flashy enough that I hardly looked like a proper mayor’s daughter. Reckless, spoiled, disliked by all. My closet was a monument to a life I’d lost before I even knew what it meant.

The night my mother killed herself, I barged into her funeral parlor and cursed her for two hours straight. My voice echoed off the polished wood and marble—a child’s rage against a mother who’d left her behind. I remember the sting in my throat, the rawness of it.

I blamed her for her lack of restraint, for ruining my reputation. I blamed her for her shamelessness, for dragging me down with her. I blamed her for everything. The anger burned so hot I thought it might burn the whole place down.

Dad wanted to dump her body in a pauper’s grave, but after hearing my tirade, he coldly buried her in the family plot. I never knew if it was out of guilt or pride—or maybe just to shut me up. Either way, it was done.

His affection for me dried up in an instant. I became a ghost in my own house.

And me? I was a heartless, greedy girl obsessed with glory and wealth. Everyone treated me like a joke. The staff whispered behind my back, and my old friends drifted away, one by one.

The current mayor’s wife, my aunt, pitied me and would send me things from time to time. I was grateful and always spoke up for her. Seeing how well we got along, the city council didn’t object when Dad made her the new first lady. It was politics, sure, but it was also survival.

Jackson Whitaker was a decorated Marine captain from our town, always stepping up whenever trouble hit. Born to a military family, his entire clan had died in service. Folks called him a hero, but he was always just Jackson to me.

Recently, he was ambushed during a rescue mission, stabbed through the chest. Though he survived, he hasn’t woken up since. His photo on the mantel was always surrounded by fresh flowers and old medals. The sight of it always made my stomach twist.

Dad, remembering his service and feeling sorry for his loneliness, decided to marry his favorite, the younger daughter—Savannah—to Jackson. Local troublemakers, hearing of Jackson’s grave injury, were regrouping for another attack, threatening to seize half the county. The town needed a symbol, and Jackson—unconscious or not—was perfect for the role.

To calm the people, Dad was determined to marry Savannah to Jackson. It was as much about politics as it was about family. No way around it.

Marcus, the city’s academic golden boy, was dead set against it. He was the kind of guy who could argue his way out of a speeding ticket or into a scholarship, and he wasn’t afraid to stand up to the council.

I watched coldly as this charming, brilliant scholar argued with everyone for my sister’s sake. He had that look in his eyes—the kind that said he’d go to war for her. It made me sick and jealous all at once. I hated that look. I wanted it for myself.

Did he ever stop to think—if Savannah doesn’t marry, who will? He’s too clever not to have thought of it.

So I decided to play the good person and help them out. If I was going to be the villain, I might as well do it on my own terms. Why not?

I dusted off my sleeves and stepped forward, heart pounding. For a second, I thought, here goes nothing. “Fine, I’ll marry him.”

The moment the words left my mouth, there was no taking it back now. I felt the eyes of the entire room burn into me, and for a second, I felt powerful.

Everyone was shocked. I could see it in their faces—the disbelief, the fear, the relief. I wondered if any of them would thank me. Probably not.

Marcus spun around to look at me, his eyes full of doubt and surprise. There was betrayal there, too, and it stung more than I wanted to admit.

For the next few days, I prepared for my wedding in peace at the Ashford estate. It was a strange calm—like the hush before a tornado.

Dad, for once, came to see me. He knocked once, then let himself in, standing in the doorway like a judge. He didn’t say anything at first.

“Do you regret it?” he asked, his tone as flat as the Kansas plains.

I looked him in the eye. “If I said I only agreed to spite Marcus and now regret it, would you call the whole thing off?”

He paused, jaw clenched. “…” I wondered if he was going to say something else, but he didn’t.

Dad said, “I’ve given my word. I can’t just change my mind. Since you’re marrying Jackson, take good care of him. If he never wakes up, that’s just how it is.”

He added, his voice heavy with finality, “You made your bed, now lie in it.”

I snapped, the frustration boiling over. “But I’m your daughter. I have the right to make mistakes!” My voice rang out, sharp and raw.

He glared at me, his eyes cold as steel. “No. You’re a curse. My only regret is marrying a woman like your mother.” The words hit like ice.

I glared back, just as bitter. “I think so too. Mom really deserved it.”

He stared at me, searching for sincerity or sarcasm. His sharp eyes, now dulled by age and disappointment, tried to see through me.

After a long silence, his posture relaxed just a little. “Any last wishes before you leave? Speak. Let’s just call this closure.”

I smiled, sugar-sweet, but my heart was stone. “Yes. I want my mother’s jewelry. And lots and lots of money.” That’s all.

Dad waved me off and left, the door closing with a soft but final click.

I called after him, my voice echoing down the hall, “You gave your word, don’t go back on it!” The words hung in the empty space.

On the wedding day, the bridal procession stretched for blocks—an unprecedented spectacle. Folks lined the sidewalks, whispering, snapping photos, pretending not to gawk.

I opened a trunk, and only after seeing what was inside did I relax and smile. My mother’s jewelry sparkled in the sunlight, and stacks of cash lay neatly bundled beneath it. I felt a strange sense of victory.

A cold voice sliced through my reverie. “You really love money. Aren’t you afraid people will laugh—say you’re disgracing the family?”

It was Marcus, dressed to the nines in a sharp tux, standing stiffly beside the limo, tasked with escorting the bride. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I shot him a sideways glance, a smirk on my lips. “As long as I have money, what do I care what you think?”

He sputtered, his composure slipping. “You! You’re impossible!”

I rolled my eyes, teasing, “Both of us in red today—anyone who didn’t know better would think you were marrying me.”

He recoiled, sneering, “How could I possibly marry you?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, your heart’s set on Savannah.”

I grabbed his arm, leaning in close for effect. He jerked away, his face flaming red, like I’d just committed some unspeakable crime.

His reaction killed the fun. I straightened up, my voice cool. “It’s time. Mr. Marcus, aren’t you going to help me into the limo?”

He realized he’d overreacted, mumbled an apology, and stepped back, letting the bridesmaids swarm around me.

I stepped onto their hands and slid into the car, the fabric of my dress rustling against the leather seats.

Just before the door closed, shutting out the world, I caught Marcus’s eye. Silently, I mouthed: “Thank you.”