Josie stared at it for one second, and then she went off. “Don’t you hon me! You’ve got some nerve showing up. What is going on here? Where’s my happily ever after? Where’s my night with Tristan Sinclair? Who was that lunatic prince in the bed?”
The window flickered a few times, and the reply came in slowly, one guilty word at a time.
Sugarplum wrote, “Hon, I’m so sorry about your experience… Here’s the thing. You’re our very first customer for the 100% Book–Bride Experience, and I… I hadn’t run the setup before, and my hand slipped, and I got one digit wrong in the identity binding. So you ended up in the wrong person.”
It hit Josie like a slap. “The wrong person? So not only did I not make it into Tristan’s bed, I’m not even the heroine?”
Sugarplum typed, “That’s right, hon…”
A bad feeling crawled up Josie’s spine. “Then who am I? Whose body is this?”
Sugarplum answered, “You’re currently bound to the trueborn daughter of the Lord Marshal of the Realm… Vivienne Ashcombe.”
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