Ava Summers is the perfect daughter — business mogul, top of her class, future queen of spreadsheets, and the only Summers twin with functioning brain cells. She's survived nineteen years sharing a womb, a mansion, and half of her DNA with Eva Summers — the human embodiment of bad decisions who once tried to roast marshmallows on scented candles and nearly set the entire estate on fire.

So when their parents arranged one of them to marry Zeke Ford — the kingdom's most notorious heartbreaker — Ava took one for the team. She didn't flinch. She didn't panic.

She blinked once... probably because she was three glasses of margaritas deep after Eva spiked her drink and slid a suspicious contract under her nose — a contract that would transfer all of Ava's businesses and birthright to Eva if she refused to marry Zeke.

It was the first plan Eva ever pulled off successfully — and she regretted it the moment the Fords switched the grooms at the last minute.

Instead of waking up legally bound to Zeke — the charming, half-witted flirt who collects women like decorative throw pillows — Ava finds herself married to Zach Ford — the cold, brooding, emotionally constipated twin brother who hasn't smiled since the dinosaurs went extinct.

The Ford family hoped Eva's lively personality would drag Zach out of his miserable cave of grief and bad attitude after his fiancée's death.

Too bad they accidentally married him to the kingdom's most neurotic control freak instead.

Now Ava has a whole lifetime to survive a forced marriage to a man who communicates in glances, grunts, and the occasional eyebrow twitch, convince everyone she's madly in love with her new husband...

And figure out how to legally murder her sister without ruining the family name.

The plan was supposed to save the Summers' reputation.

Not burn the whole kingdom to the ground.

"With This Ring, I Loathe You—Yes, I do."

A laugh-out-loud enemies-to-lovers rom-com about one grumpy recluse, one reluctant perfectionist, and one contractual catastrophe that will either end in true love...

Or arson with tax deductions.

Backstage is quieter—but barely. The echo of Ava's bold press ambush still hums like leftover adrenaline in the air.


Zach sits on a folding chair next to a poorly assembled table offering exactly one granola bar, an expired juice box, and a sad floral arrangement made entirely of paperclips.


Still in heels. Still in "don't mess with me" posture. Still gripping the taro tea like it owes her child support.


He watches her for a moment. Then, with the same calm he'd use to announce a slight plumbing leak or a meteor headed toward Earth, he says:


Zach gestures vaguely toward the door. "One of the reporters just tweeted a picture of us and tagged it 'the eyebrow-less one and the savage queen.' So… we're trending. Again."


Chapter 60 - Just You and Me and the PR Nightmare