Chapter 5: False Fronts and Fragile Truths

Derek saw it too, his eyes dimming.

He glanced at the glowing screen, lips pressed tight, and then looked away—like he’d just remembered he had something urgent to do.

"We're out of antiseptic. I'll go get a new bottle."

He stood abruptly, tossing his gloves in the bin, and headed for the back room.

I glanced at the bottle on the table—still more than half full. I opened my mouth, but could only watch as Derek turned and walked into the storage room.

I sat for a moment, heat rising to my cheeks, then finally answered the call, my nerves raw.

My stomach dropped. Of course it was him—right when I least wanted it.

I answered the call, annoyed, my tone unfriendly: "What?"

Mason’s voice oozed across the line, lazy and smug, the way only he could manage.

"Did you eat nails for breakfast, Bennett? Careful, I might tattle to your mom."

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. I could picture him grinning, probably feet up on his desk somewhere, thinking he was hilarious.

"..."

Mason and I can't stand each other. He thinks I'm too soft, and I always complain about him.

We’re basically New York’s least convincing couple—everyone knows it’s a setup. He’s the kind of guy who’s never heard the word "no," and I’m the girl who’s too stubborn to make things easy.

Our well-known engagement is just a ploy by our families to force the Lee family from San Francisco to withdraw from the New York market. We were just the price tags in a hostile takeover—two rich kids, forced to play nice.

There's no way I'd actually marry him.

But my parents told me to keep this a secret.

It was like a cold contract, signed in whispers and eye rolls.

Every time I came to see Derek, I drove myself—never called the driver.

I kept everything under wraps, even making sure my car didn’t have the family sticker on it. I didn’t need Mason—or my mom—tracking my every move.

Thinking about what the barrage said, that I'd miss Derek and Mason would swoop in after fighting for it...

I groaned inwardly. If only.

Now I disliked him even more.

If there was ever a competition for "world’s most insufferable fiancé," Mason would have it in the bag.

But I swear, Mason would never like me.

The only thing we agree on is how much we both hate this arrangement.

For the greater good, we're both just enduring.

We're basically ninja turtles—hiding in our shells, armored up, refusing to stick our necks out.

"Why'd you call me?"

He always had a reason, usually annoying.

"I have a car race tomorrow. Pretend to bring me flowers at the finish line. I won't save you a passenger seat, don't want you getting scared."

Of course. Nothing says "true love" like a staged finish line photo.

As soon as he finished, I hung up.

I jabbed the red button before he could finish his next sentence, satisfaction blooming in my chest.

To make the engagement look real, Mason and I would cooperate at public events, and the media would always make a fuss about it.

We’d show up at fundraisers, act out the happy-couple script, and then go our separate ways the minute the cameras stopped rolling. It was exhausting.

I overlooked that point, thinking Derek didn't know me, but he already knew my identity.

Small town, big city—didn’t matter. Word always got around.

So in his eyes, am I just a bad woman with a fiancé, still trying to seduce him?

I suddenly worried I’d crossed some invisible line, that Derek would never see me as anything but off-limits.

Just then, Derek came out, and I urgently wanted to explain.

He avoided my gaze, fiddling with the bottle. I almost blurted everything out right then.

Mason's message followed:

[Your mom said you keep going out alone, and the Lee family has been active lately. They might be watching you, don't slip up or I'll kill you ahhhhh]

His text was half-joke, half-warning, the kind only Mason could send. My chest tightened.

The words I was about to say got stuck in my throat.

I looked around warily.

It suddenly felt like eyes were everywhere—family, rivals, maybe even Derek.