Part 1Claimed by His Billionaire Best Friend

Two years after we secretly called off our relationship, the tabloids finally caught up.

The morning headlines screamed that my fiancé, Hayes Kensington, had been spotted entering a boutique hotel with my best friend, Gemma. They were inside for three hours.

Both our families were furious. We were summoned back to the Kensington estate overnight, forced to stand trial in front of the patriarchs.

Just like I always did, I stepped up. I smoothed over the cracks with a calm, practiced smile.

"Hayes and Gemma were just setting up a suite for me. It was supposed to be a surprise."

The tension in the room instantly deflated. The elders sighed in relief.

"Hayes likes to have his fun, but he knows where his loyalties lie," his father muttered.

"Eight years together. You don't just throw that away."

Now, on the ride back to my place, the silence in the car was thick.

Hayes rolled down his window and lit a cigarette. The cherry flared orange in the dark, illuminating the sharp, careless lines of his profile.

"Thanks," he said, his tone entirely too casual. "Name your price. Whatever gift you want, it's yours. Next time you need me to cover for you, just say the word."

Almost no one knew that we had broken up two years ago.

Bound by a massive, impending merger between the Harper and Kensington families, we had signed a private contract. We would serve as each other's shields. We would keep the peace. Once the two years were up, we would quietly, politely break the engagement.

I sat in the passenger seat, letting the silence stretch. Then, I looked over at him.

"Actually, there is something I need from you."

He raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Can we terminate the contract early?" I asked. "My boyfriend is getting tired of being a secret."

The words hung in the air.

The car went dead quiet.

Hayes froze. The amusement vanished, replaced by a slow, calculating look that swept over my face, searching for a punchline.

A moment later, he let out a low, breathy laugh. It was arrogant. Dismissive.

"A boyfriend?" he said. "Since when? How did I miss that?"

I weighed my words for a second, keeping my voice perfectly steady.

"Almost two years."

The smile died in his eyes.

A heavy, suffocating pressure filled the small space of the car, tinged with a sudden, dark hostility.

"So you just seamlessly moved on?" He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his jaw tightening. "God, Sloane. You've really outdone yourself."

The questions came rapid-fire. "Who is it? What family? Do I know him? You've been hiding him for two years—what, is he not good enough to bring out in public?"

I didn't owe him explanations, so I picked the easiest question to deflect.

"It's not a good time."

He stared hard at me.

After a few long seconds, that infuriating, mocking smirk crawled back onto his face.

"Alright, enough. Stop throwing a tantrum." He reached over, his hand instinctively going to my hair, ruffling it just like he used to. The gesture was deeply familiar, once meant to be affectionate, but now it just felt entirely out of place.

"You don't have a boyfriend," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "I know you, Sloane. Your standards are too high, and you're too damn stubborn. You don't just fall for people."

A dull ache flared in my chest.

That was exactly the problem. He thought he knew me so well. He was so absolutely certain that no matter what he did, I would always be right here, waiting.

"Didn't you tell me that people change?" I looked at him, my voice stripped of all emotion. "Hayes, no one stands in the same place forever."

The words landed heavily.

The smirk finally, completely wiped off his face.

A flicker of something—loss, maybe panic—flashed in his eyes, gone as quickly as it came.

He lowered his voice. "Yeah. Don't wait for me. I can't give you what you want."

He cleared his throat, forcing a faint, careless smile back onto his lips. "If you really are seeing someone, bring him around. Let me vet him."

Streetlights slashed across his face as we drove, alternating between blinding gold and pitch black. This man, who had spent the last few years looking down on everyone, convinced he held the world in his palm, suddenly looked incredibly lonely.

I looked away, turning my gaze out the window to the passing city.

"We'll see," I murmured.

I wasn't lying.

I did have a boyfriend. A serious one.

But I had a feeling I would never be able to casually introduce him to Hayes Kensington. Some relationships, once dragged into the light, don't just cause a scene. They cause an earthquake.

It would be a devastating, ugly mess for everyone involved.