Part 2Fake Fiancé Turned Real

I went back to our rented apartment. One by one, I tore down the photos covering the wall and fed them into the paper shredder.

At eleven o’clock that night, the door clicked open. Jacob pushed the door open, bringing with him a faint woody scent. It was the exact perfume Ruby always wore.

He loosened his tie, his brow furrowing slightly as he put on a show of exhaustion.

“Nat, get me a glass of water.”

In the past, I would’ve rushed over to him out of worry and handed him a glass of water. Now, I just sat on the sofa, completely still.

“Get it yourself,” I said, my voice flat.

Jacob paused, a look of impatience crossing his eyes. However, he quickly suppressed it, walking over to ruffle my hair.

“What’s wrong? Are you mad because I had too much work today and forgot your birthday?” he said dotingly, but his eyes were lifeless.

He was simply going through the motions.

“No,” I said, tilting my head to avoid his hand. “I forgot too.”

Jacob’s hand froze in midair before he slowly pulled it back. Then, he sat down next to me on the couch.

“Ruby got back from her business trip today, so I went to pick her up from the airport,” he said, bringing it up voluntarily as if testing the waters. “It’s not easy for her to be on her own. We grew up together, and I can’t just ignore her. Be reasonable, and don’t overthink things.”

What a classic line. A perfect mix of belittling and guilt-tripping, all perfectly aligned with Mr. Hill’s KPIs. He was already starting to push the progress bar of breaking my heart.

I stared at the face that had made my heart flutter for three years, and my stomach churned.

“Sure, I’ll be reasonable,” I said, forcing a smile.

Jacob clearly didn’t expect me to be so calm. He blinked in surprise, but then smiled with satisfaction.

“I knew you were the best.”

With that, he got up to take a shower.

Watching him, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I had blacklisted a long time ago.

“Mr. Hill,” I said calmly.

On the other end of the line, my father’s voice carried his usual, high-and-mighty authority.

“What? Have you had enough of a hard time out there? Are you ready to bow your head?”

“I’m willing to consider the arranged marriage,” I replied as I stared out at the neon lights of the city. “But I want to meet Louis Lane myself.”

My father laughed. “I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses. Tomorrow night, there is a private yacht party at Victoria Harbour. The head of the Lane family is not someone to be trifled with, so leave your spoiled heiress attitude at home.”

Once the line went dead, I snickered.

Louis Lane, the head of Lanes Corporation, was notorious in our circle for being a cold-blooded tycoon. Rumors in the business circles claimed he was decisive, ruthless, and indifferent to women. He was the exact marriage partner my father was so desperate to pack up and ship off to bed.

My father figured that by giving me to Louis, he could control me while securing the Lane family’s massive resources. However, what he didn’t know was that I had stopped playing the prey a long time ago.

Since the destination was going to be Louis, why should I be the bargaining chip dragged to the negotiating table? If I were going to play, I would be the one sitting at the head of the table, dealing the cards.

The night wind at Victoria Harbour carried the salty scent of seawater. Dressed in a striking red gown and holding a glass of champagne, I stood on the second-floor deck of the yacht.

Jacob hadn’t looked for me tonight. Instead, he had sent a text saying there was an issue with a project and he had to work through the night.

Yet, just moments ago, I had scrolled past a post from Ruby on my feed. It was a photo of two coffee cups with the caption, “With you by my side, working overtime doesn’t feel tiring at all.”

I liked the post and locked my screen. Even drama gets boring after a while, and I had much more important things to do tonight.

The sound of steady footsteps echoed behind me. I didn’t turn around. I simply watched the tall, commanding figure draw closer through the reflection on the glass door.

It was Louis.

“Miss Hill, it’s quite windy out here,” said a deep, cold voice behind me.