The fragile peace we had started to rebuild did not last long. The next few days were filled with wedding preparations and family obligations. Bruce and I stole moments together when we could. Small conversations. Gentle touches when no one was looking. It felt like we were slowly finding our way back to each other. But the undercurrent of secrets and tension never fully went away.

One morning I woke up to my phone buzzing nonstop. Messages from Vivian. Missed calls from my old colleagues. I opened one of the links she sent and my stomach dropped.

Photos of Bruce and me were splashed across several news sites. They were the ones Stella had leaked earlier but now they were everywhere. The headlines screamed "Bruce Roccaforte's Secret Fiancée" and "Roccaforte Heir's Hidden Romance Exposed." Some of the images were photoshopped to look more intimate than they were. Others were real moments from the parties and gatherings at the mansion.

My old company, the Daily Pulse, had run the story prominently. The article painted me as a gold-digger reporter who had seduced the hockey star for a story. Comments online were brutal. Some called me opportunistic. Others questioned if the relationship was even real.

I felt sick. This was exactly what I had been fighting to avoid. My career. My reputation. Everything was being dragged through the mud.

Bruce found me in my room staring at the screen. His face darkened when he saw the articles.

"Stella," he said immediately. "This has her fingerprints all over it."

I nodded. "My old company amplified it. They have been waiting for something like this."

He sat beside me and took my hand. "We will fix this. I will make a statement. We will control the narrative."

Before we could plan anything Richard stormed into the room. He rarely came to my wing unannounced. His face was red with anger.

"What is this?" he demanded holding up his tablet. The headline was glaring. "You two were supposed to be discreet. Now the entire business community is talking about this scandal."

Bruce stood up. "It is not a scandal. It is our relationship. We will handle it."

Richard laughed bitterly. "Handle it? The deals I have been working on are at risk because of this nonsense. Fix it. Make it look real or end it. I do not care which but do not let it damage the family name any further."

He left as abruptly as he had arrived. The door slammed behind him. I felt overwhelmed. The public exposure made everything feel more real and more dangerous at the same time.

Stella appeared shortly after. She pretended to be concerned but the satisfaction in her eyes was clear.

"I saw the news," she said. "It is awful how these things get twisted. If you need help managing the narrative I have contacts."

Bruce cut her off. "We have it under control."

She shrugged and left but not before giving me a look that said she was enjoying every second of this.

The scandal spread fast. My phone would not stop ringing. Vivian called to warn me that more outlets were picking it up. Some were digging into my past. Others were speculating about a secret engagement.

Bruce and I spent the afternoon crafting a response. We decided to lean into the relationship story. He posted a statement on his social media calling me his girlfriend and asking for privacy. I did the same on my professional accounts. It helped a little but the damage was done. The story was out there.

That evening Richard called another family meeting. The atmosphere was tense. My mother looked worried. Stella sat quietly but I could see the triumph in her posture.

"We need to control this," Richard said. "The business associates are asking questions. I want a public appearance. Something that shows unity."

Bruce nodded. "There is an event next week. We will attend together."

The meeting dragged on with discussions about damage control and how to spin the narrative. By the end I felt exhausted. Bruce walked me to my room afterward.

"We will get through this," he said. "Together."

I wanted to believe him. But as I closed the door another notification popped up on my phone. A new article from my old company.

"Exclusive: Inside the Roccaforte Fake Romance – Sources Claim It Is All for Show."

The article included more photoshopped images and anonymous quotes suggesting the relationship was a publicity stunt. My hands shook as I read it. The public scandal was exploding and it was only getting worse.

I sank onto the bed. The partial progress we had made felt like it was slipping away again. Stella had struck at the perfect time. And with the event next week looming I had no idea how we were going to come out of this unscathed.

The scandal had erupted fully. And I feared it would consume everything we were trying to build.

“Evelyn, thank you. You brought my son home sooner than I expected.” He patted Bruce’s shoulder with pride. “If I hadn’t pulled that prank, he wouldn’t have shown up.”

I forced a smile. “I’m glad it worked out.”

I was partly ashamed I was tricked by those two but what do I do? I needed money and to get that I had to play along till I got it and make my walk out of the mansion easier.

Resting the burdens on myself made me realize it was better. I couldn't let my mum get married to someone else, and I wouldn't be comfortable in my own house or rather the new house. I was going to let her marry someone else, but I was glad I got a good deal to clear it off and she'll cancel the dinner she was thinking of, or even cancel the god forsaken marriage that wouldn't do me any good.

I took a glance at Mr Roccaforte as he looked so proud of Bruce, he gestured toward the dining room. “Come, let’s have a meal. It’s been too long since I had company I actually enjoy.”

Bruce's cold eyes met mine. He aggressively pulled me back and whispered, “You got what you wanted,” he muttered. “You can leave now. If you stay too long, my father would find something to pull again. And I wouldn't have you on my neck, you know that.”

My blood boiled. “Really? You’re going to act like this now? And I'm definitely not on your neck Mister.” I stepped closer, keeping my voice low. “I begged you to show up. I even swallowed my pride for this and you're what? Making it seem like I'm doing it all wrong? If you do that, at least stop pretending you don’t recognize me.”

He went silent. His jaw tightened. “Didn’t know you still had that feisty side,” he muttered. “I thought you lost all that the minute money came into the picture.”

I stared at him, stunned. “You think I’m here for the money?”

“You tell me.”

I scoffed. “Why didn’t you ever use your real name in Canada? Why pretend to be someone else? It would have been easier if I knew it was you. I wouldn't accept the offer to bring you here in the first place. What kind of a son are you, for your dad to pull such a prank and offer a quarter of his riches?”

“What? Quarter? You know, that’s none of your business,” he snapped. “Take whatever my father promised and leave. He knows already we're pretending to date.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but my phone buzzed. A message from Mom.

“Two more days. Hope you’re getting ready to meet your new father.”

New father. The irony would’ve made me laugh if I wasn’t seconds away from screaming.

“You both should come in. My legs are sore.” Mr Roccaforte complained. Bruce had no choice but to let go.

I shoved my phone back in my bag and followed Bruce into the dining room. Mr. Roccaforte sat at the head of the table, beaming at both of us.

“You’re his girlfriend,” he said to me. “I haven't seen him with any lady before, not even close enough to bring them home and he just decided to bring you home? It's a shame I've met you before. He probably saw the same thing I did.”

I didn't know how to feel, smile? Or feel haunted?

You should prepare him something. Show me you can be part of the family.” he added.

I hesitated. “It’s… it’s not real,” I said carefully. “This girlfriend thing, it’s just pretend. I'm sure you know that now.”

Bruce shot me a glare, but I raised my hands. “Don’t look at me like that. Your dad knows we’re both lying. He’s the king of manipulation, you think he can’t spot one of his own tricks?”

My Roccaforte chuckled.

Bruce leaned closer. “If I don’t find a real girlfriend soon,” he whispered, “he’ll set me up with someone I can’t stand. Again.”

“Then go find one,” I hissed. “Stop hiding like you’re some mystery novel character.”

“Fine. Find me one. If you're so concerned about my family’s business.” he shot back.

I blinked. “Me?”

“You just seem to enjoy meddling.”

I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

Before we could go any further, Mr. Roccaforte cleared his throat. “Are you two done flirting?”

Bruce groaned. “We’re not flirting.”

His father leaned forward. “My son needs a strong woman beside him. One who’ll help keep the Roccaforte legacy alive. Someone who can give him an heir and not just let him waste his life playing hockey.”

I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. The heir talk, the business empire, it was like being in a live soap opera. Bruce’s glare burned into my skin again.

“Relax,” I muttered. “Your dad’s got jokes.”

Before he could reply, the double doors opened.

A woman walked in, all grace and expensive perfume. She rushed to Mr. Roccaforte and hugged him with familiarity. I barely glanced her way, until she turned around.

My breath stopped as my gaze fell on her. “Mum?” I whispered.

She blinked. “Evelyn?”

We both stared at each other like ghosts. “What… what are you doing here?” she asked, stepping back. “How did you meet Richard already? We were supposed to all have dinner together on Saturday. Why are you here?”

“I…” My voice broke. “You’re marrying… him?”

Her eyes softened. “He told me a girl's coming. I didn’t know you were the girl he hired.”

I felt the air choke out of my lungs. Bruce looked between us, realization dawning in his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face. He was probably out of it too and didn't realize I had so much to take in. Mr Roccaforte only stared and never had an ounce of disbelief on his face.

I couldn’t take it. I turned, bolted out the door, and didn’t stop running until I hit the cold air outside.

Tears dropped down my thin choke

How did my life turn into this kind of chaos?

I couldn’t sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, all I could think about

was how I was supposed to act like the girlfriend of the most famous hockey player in the country, who also happened to be my one-night stand from four years ago, and make it believable in front of his father.

No pressure, right?

I kept practicing in the mirror. “Bruce, stop being annoying.” Too harsh. “Honey, should we go?” Too fake. “Babe…” God, no. Absolutely not.

Dealing with rich people meant being composed, poised. They could smell uncertainty like blood. And now that I got this insane opportunity without even fully earning it, I had to make sure I didn’t lose it.

I slipped into one of the outfits I’d picked during my mini shopping spree. Light purple flare trousers that hugged just right, paired with a crisp white turtleneck. I layered it with a long beige jacket that gave me a professional touch and set my black heels beside the bed, ready. I even tied my curls up into a neat bun and put on a little gloss. Not too much. Just enough to look clean and sharp.

I guess I must’ve fallen asleep on my laptop while checking up articles on fake dating etiquette, yes, that’s a thing because the sun on my face and the blaring 7:30 a.m. timeon my screen jolted me straight into panic mode.

“Shit!”

I bolted out of bed, threw on my clothes, grabbed my tiny purse and rushed outside, almost forgetting my phone.

To my utter shock, the sleek white car was already there, parked right outside my gate like some royal escort.

Ian, Bruce’s manager, stepped out casually, not even looking annoyed. “Good morning, Miss Evelyn.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I blurted out, panting. “I lost track of, well, I overslept.”

He gave me a small smile. “Mr. Bruce is waiting. Please get in.”

I hesitated for half a second. He was in the car?

I opened the back door and there he was. A black shirt rolled up to his elbows, dark jeans, and a clean expensive-looking watch. His gaze was on his phone, and he didn’t bother to look up. He probably didn't recognize me. He wasn't pretending, was he?

I sat, then he turned.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked, eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“Of course I did,” I lied quickly, trying to sound awake and confident.

His gaze narrowed slightly. “Your eyes are swollen.”

My hand flew up to my face instinctively.

“But,” he added, “you look stunning.”

I blinked. It wasn’t even what he said, it was how he said it. Straightforward with no smirk. No teasing tone. Just… a compliment, clean and clear.

I gave a nervous smile. “Thanks.”

The air in the car was strange. Not tense, not exactly awkward. Just… full. Like both of us were thinking about the past, pretending not to.

As the car pulled off, I glanced out the window, heart racing, not from the compliment. Not from the nerves of pretending to be his girlfriend. But because something in Bruce’s presence made it hard to tell what was real.

The car ride to the Roccaforte house was quiet, save for the occasional buzz of Bruce’s phone. I couldn’t get comfortable, sitting there with a fake calm while my stomach twisted in anxiety. I was about to walk into the home of the man who promised me half his properties in exchange for bringing the best hockey player to his house.

When we pulled into the estate, my jaw dropped. The mansion was even more breathtaking in person. A sprawling masterpiece of marble, glass, and manicured hedges. Everything screamed power. No wonder Mr. Roccaforte could casually throw 50 million dollars at me like spare change.

Ian opened the door and I stepped out, heels clicking softly against the driveway. Bruce came around the car, and walked beside me without a word.

The moment we stepped into the house, there he was, Mr. Roccaforte himself. Tall, broad-shouldered, in an expensive robe with a cigar in one hand and that same charmingly dangerous smile on his face.

“Bruce!” he beamed.

To my utter shock, he pulled Bruce into a hug like they’d been best friends for years. Bruce didn’t even flinch. He smirked slightly and hugged him back.

So they did know each other?

Before I could fully process that, Bruce casually wrapped an arm around me and said, “Dad, meet Evelyn. My girlfriend.”

I blinked. What?

Mr. Roccaforte raised a brow, lips curled in surprise. “Your what?”

Bruce pulled me a bit closer, and I stood there frozen. “My girlfriend, Dad. So you can stop with the blind dates. She’s the only one I’m bringing home.”

There was a heavy pause. Then laughter. Loud, hearty, mocking laughter.

Mr. Roccaforte laughed like we were the punchline of a bad sitcom. I felt humiliated. The urge to shrink into the marble floor was strong.

He finally waved Bruce aside. “Come, son. Let’s talk.”

As they stepped into the corner of the massive living room, I stood there, trying to pretend I didn’t just hear that laugh or the ‘son’ echo in my skull.

“Did you know she was here because of me?” his father asked, not even trying to lower his voice.

Bruce shrugged. “So what? You always play dirty to get me home.”

“You still fell for it.”

“The only reason I came back is because you faked a terminal illness, again. Said you had six months left and wanted us to bond before the reaper showed up.”

I stifled a laugh, but it escaped as a quiet chuckle. They both turned to look at me.

Bruce arched his brow. “What’s funny?”

“In one word,” I said, folding my arms, “you both made a fool of me?”

Bruce shrugged, completely unapologetic. “It’s not like you weren’t getting paid.”

Well that was rude.