Chapter 13
Of all the companies I could’ve applied to… of all the offices I could’ve walked into… it had to be his.
Sebastian Rhys.
The same man who once called me his wife in front of his grandfather. The same billionaire I’d bumped into at the hospital. The same man who helped pay for my brother’s medical bills without saying a word.
I stood frozen as he looked up from his desk the moment I stepped inside.
“You?” I breathed, stunned.
His lips twitched. “So you weren’t lying about being an architect.”
“And you weren’t kidding about being a billionaire,” I muttered back, clutching my portfolio to my chest.
He walked around the desk and extended a hand, his voice cool but playful. “Ellie, right? My lovely wife.”
I flushed. “Don’t start.”
But then Sebastian’s gaze turned serious. “You can’t work here.”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“My grandfather’s been asking about you. If he sees you in the office and realizes you’re just an employee…” He paused. “Look, I’ll be honest. I need this act to last for at least a year. If I meet the conditions in his will, the inheritance is mine. After that? You can vanish
and
go
back to your life. I’ll pay you enough to live however you want. Start a business. Fly to Mars. I don’t care.”
I stared at him, the gears in my mind spinning. I needed money. A fresh start. A shield from the man I used to love.
But this? A fake marriage for a year?
“Why me?” I asked quietly..
“You’re smart. Quick on your feet. And you’ve already sold it once,” he said with a smirk. “And besides, I already told him you were my wife. There’s no backing out now.”
It was insane. Absolutely reckless.
But I had been reckless before–when I married Colton, when I gave him everything and received nothing in return. This time, the recklessness was mine to control.
“Fine,” I said. “One year. That’s all.”
He smiled. “Deal.”
The next few days passed in a blur.
We forged documents. Created a timeline of our “love story.” Picked photos that made us
Innk madly in Inve. He nava ma arrace in a lavish anartment–nno wa wara eunnnead to
Chanter 13
We forged documents. Created a timeline of our “love story.” Picked photos that made us
look madly in love. He gave me access to a lavish apartment–one we were supposed to “share” for appearances. And when I said I still wanted to work? He didn’t stop me. In fact, he handed me an architecture project from his firm and told me, “Show me what you can do.”
It felt strange… to be supported. To be trusted. To feel capable.
And stranger still to feel seen.
Sebastian wasn’t like Colton. He didn’t try to control me. He didn’t belittle me. He watched with genuine curiosity as I mapped out floor plans, reviewed blueprints, and even offered helpful feedback.
And yet… it was still all fake.
That reality hit harder when the first family dinner invitation came.
His grandfather had arranged it–just a “simple” meal with extended relatives and a few board members. Which meant, of course, we had to be convincing.
“You’ll wear this,” Sebastian said, handing me a silky navy dress the night before.
I raised a brow. “Buying your fake wife clothes now?”
“Just making sure you don’t upstage me,” he teased.
The next night, we entered the grand dining room arm in arm. Eyes turned. Cameras flashed. Champagne glasses clinked. And for every moment we spent in that room, I was Mrs. Ellie Rhys.
I laughed at his jokes. I held his hand under the table. I leaned into him when he whispered that his cousin was trying too hard with her diamond–studded shoes.
It was easy. Too easy.
Until dessert came–and Sebastian’s grandfather stood up, beaming.
“You two look so in love,” he said proudly. “So… how about a kiss for the family album?”
My stomach dropped.
Sebastian looked at me, brows raised. I swallowed hard.
He leaned in slowly, brushing his fingers lightly against my cheek as he whispered, “Wel don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I hated that I hesitated.
But then I nodded.
His lips met mine in the softest, briefest kiss–and yet it sent a tremor through my entire body.
Everyone clapped. Cameras clicked. And I pulled back, breath caught somewhere between confusion and regret.
This is fake, Ellie.
This. Is. Fake.
Chazir 12
2/3
50.7%
This. Is. Fake.
Later that night, I stood on the balcony of our apartment, staring out at the Berlin skyline;
arms wrapped tightly around myself.
Sebastian joined me a moment later, offering a glass of wine. “You were great tonight,” he said quietly.
I took the glass, not looking at him. “That kiss was… unnecessary.”
“Completely,” he agreed, his voice low. “But effective.”
I turned to him, trying to sound light. “I hope your inheritance is worth all this pretending.”
He looked at me then–really looked at me.
“Isn’t it?” he asked softly. “Aren’t we both pretending for something?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I wasn’t sure if I could lie as easily anymore.
Not when my heart had skipped a beat… for a man I was only supposed to–pretend to love.
