Chapter 1 Mistaken Identity

Scarlett's POV

"OH MY!" I knew something was wrong the moment I felt the tiny prick against my thigh. The glass jar of Dream Herb had tipped over on my workbench, and one of the needle-like leaves had pierced through my jeans.

Dream Herb was an anesthetic herb I was researching. It could cause gradual numbness in the limbs, inability to speak, and eventually loss of consciousness within three hours. Unfortunately, I became its first user.

I tracked my symptoms with clinical detachment while stumbling in my small pharmacy in Old Brooklyn. The numbness was spreading faster than expected — unusual potency in this batch. My fingers fumbled with the "CLOSED" sign as pins and needles crawled up my arms.

I turned around, intending to find some way to alleviate my symptoms. At that moment, the bell on the door rang urgently. Despite the situation, I automatically put on a professional smile.

"Welcome to Healing Corner. How can I—"

My greeting died as a man in an impeccable black suit filled the doorframe. His cold gray eyes locked onto mine with such hostility that I instinctively took a step back. Something about his sculpted features and commanding presence screamed danger.

"Victoria," he said, voice dripping with contempt. "How convenient to find you hiding in this... establishment."

I frowned, confusion momentarily overriding my concern about the spreading paralysis. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else. I'm Scarlett Ross, the owner."

His laugh was sharp enough to cut glass. "Drop the act. Did you really think changing your name and opening this pathetic little shop would keep you hidden?"

Before I could respond, he closed the distance between us with two long strides. His fingers wrapped around my wrist with bruising force, but I barely felt it through the growing numbness.

"Your timing couldn't be worse," I said, feeling my knees starting to buckle. "I've just been stabbed by—"

He wasn't listening. With surprising ease, he scooped me up as my legs gave way completely. The paralysis was accelerating – another twenty minutes and even speech would become difficult.

"Put me down," I demanded, but my voice lacked its usual authority.

"Not a chance," he growled, carrying me outside where a fleet of black SUVs had materialized, blocking the entire street. Men in tactical gear formed a perimeter while onlookers gawked and raised smartphones to capture the scene.

He deposited me none too gently in the backseat of the lead vehicle. As we pulled away, I watched my pharmacy recede through the tinted windows, along with any chance of getting the antidote I kept in the back room.

"Phone," he demanded, palm outstretched.

"Go to hell."

His fingers found my jacket pocket anyway, extracting my smartphone and powering it off before pocketing it.

"Who are you?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady as the SUV accelerated through Brooklyn streets. "And why do you think I'm Victoria?"

His marble-carved features remained impassive. "Gabriel Rothschild. And your pathetic disguise doesn't fool me."

The information about this name instantly matched in my mind. Gabriel Rothschild — the ruthless CEO of Rothschild Enterprises, New York's premier business dynasty. His reputation preceded him everywhere: cold-blooded negotiator, financial predator, the man who'd collapsed entire companies with a single phone call.

This wasn't just trouble; this was catastrophic.

"Listen carefully," I said, summoning every ounce of authority I had left. "I'm not Victoria. I'm Scarlett Ross. Check my ID."

"Your forged documents mean nothing," he snapped. "The wedding is tomorrow, and Grandmother is dying. You think you can just disappear after signing a contract?"

Wedding? Grandmother? Contract? None of this made sense. I had no idea who that Victoria person was. Besides, I was supposed to get married tomorrow—to Jack, fulfilling a foolish promise I had made in my childhood.

We arrived at City Hall with alarming speed. The paralysis had reached my torso, making breathing increasingly deliberate. Gabriel carried me inside like a ragdoll, his security team clearing a path through startled bureaucrats.

The marriage registration process passed in a blur – documents appeared, officials stammered under Gabriel's intimidating presence, and somehow my immobile hand was guided to sign papers I couldn't even read.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Rothschild," someone said, voice fading as we returned to the SUV. A diamond ring, heavy and cold, was slipped onto my finger—an ostentatious prison shackle worth more than most people's lifetime earnings.

"Now listen," Gabriel said once we were moving again. "Grandmother wants to see her grandson married before she dies. You will play your part. After that, I don't care where you go or what you do, but you will not embarrass the Rothschild name."

I mustered all my remaining strength and mumbled, "I'm not Victoria. My fiancé is Jack Parker..."

"Prove it to me." His voice was cold and demanding.

As the numbness crept up my neck, I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. My attempts to speak turned into a strangled whisper, my vocal cords betraying me. I could no longer make a sound.

He squinted at me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and disdain. It was clear he believed he had seen through my lie.

"Speed up," he commanded the driver, his tone leaving no room for argument. The driver nodded and the vehicle began to move, the hum of the engine a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped me.

As we drove, I felt the world around me blur and fade, the effects of the Dream Herb taking full hold. I had to find a way out of this, but my body was betraying me.

It was all too late; the marriage certificate had already been signed. Legally, I was now Mrs. Rothschild.

Gradually, darkness claimed me. The paralysis spread like a shadow across my consciousness until there was nothing left but the void.

I don't know how much time passed before I felt someone's breath against my ear, pulling me back to awareness. My instincts kicked in instantly, sharpening my senses through the fog.

I flexed my fingers experimentally. Control was returning to my limbs.

Without warning—I clenched my fist and swung forward!

My target reacted with startling speed, catching my punch mid-air. Gabriel Rothschild's steel-gray eyes widened slightly—perhaps the only indication of surprise his perfectly composed face would allow.

"Damn it," I muttered. My strength hadn't fully returned, my muscles still cotton-soft from the Dream Herb. Otherwise, he wouldn't have stood a chance.

I glared at him with undisguised fury. "You absolute bastard! How dare you force me into marriage!"

Gabriel stared back at me, his expression glacial. "You're the one who broke our contract. I merely enforced our agreement."

My brow furrowed in confusion. I opened my mouth to argue when the door burst open. An older man in an immaculate suit rushed in, his face contorted with panic.

"Mr. Rothschild, you need to come quickly," the butler, Barry, gasped. "Your grandmother has collapsed. The doctors are trying to revive her now!"