It rained the next day.
Not a storm, not a downpour—just that persistent drizzle that hung in the air like breath on glass. Alex stood under the narrow awning of a corner café, hands wrapped around a paper cup of bitter coffee she hadn't taken more than a sip from. She didn’t say anything at first. Neither did Zade.
He stood a few feet away, also nursing a cup, also silent.
No heat. No fury. Just a strange, almost sterile tension between them that neither knew what to do with.
Alex almost missed the hate.
Hatred gave her fuel. Disgust gave her focus. But this… this was just uncomfortable.
“Do we really have to do all that?” she finally asked, voice low.
Zade didn’t look at her. “Yes.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “Flowers and cameras and champagne and gold—seriously?”
He turned to her now, his voice dry. “We’re heirs of millionaire families, Alex. Of course it has to be official. Grand. Public.”
Alex grimaced. “I don’t want to marry you in the first place.”
Zade’s eyes flickered to her, and for a brief second, something unreadable passed between them. Something that made her skin crawl.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t fight. Just looked at her in that way he sometimes did—like he was still trying to solve her.
Silence stretched again.
“So,” she muttered, “we’re just gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong, huh?”
Zade exhaled, gaze still distant. “Yeah. Like nothing’s wrong.”
She hated that he said it so calmly. Like it didn’t gnaw at him, like none of this crushed his throat the way it did hers.
That was the last she saw of him that day.
***
She met with Arthur in a narrow back office above his favorite bookstore, away from cameras, away from family, away from Zade.
Alex paced the room like a caged animal.
“I can’t actually go and marry him,” she hissed. “He’s going to destroy my life. My company. Everything I’ve been fighting for—gone.”
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against the desk. “It’s just the engagement. You’re not marrying him tomorrow. You still have time.”
“I don’t want time!” she snapped. “I want a way out.”
Arthur looked at her for a long second, pity softening the line between his brows. “I’m sorry. I really am. But if we want this to work… you have to go through with it. We don’t have the weapon yet. We need more.”
Alex stopped pacing.
She knew he was right. But knowing didn’t make it easier to swallow.
She stared at the window, rain blurring the glass. Her reflection looked more like a ghost than a girl. She pressed her lips together and whispered, “So I have to play along.”
Arthur nodded. “For now.”
***
The next evening arrived like a funeral procession.
Her engagement.
Nova had dragged her to every salon in the city, smiling the whole time like it was the happiest day of her life. Hair, nails, gold-threaded dress tailored to hug every curve. She’d barely breathed between fittings and photos and fake laughter.
Now, the final result sat stiffly in the passenger seat of Zade Hale’s car.
He drove in silence, but she could feel his gaze on her. Like his eyes burned through her hair, across her collarbone, down her spine.
She didn’t turn to look at him.
“Stop looking at me,” she muttered.
“Why?” Zade asked, a soft huff leaving his lips.
Alex shot him a glare. “Because we’re not actual partners. We’re not getting married. I’m not your real fiancée. None of this is real.”
He didn’t respond right away.
Then, slowly, he turned toward her with one raised eyebrow. “None of it?”
Her throat tightened for a split second. Something in his tone made her flinch—but she turned her face toward the window.
“None of it,” she repeated.
He didn’t press further. But the air between them thickened until it was almost hard to breathe.
When they arrived, it felt like stepping into another world—one dipped in gold and soaked in flashing lights. The venue was a museum-turned-event-hall, its entrance lit with giant chandeliers and lined with velvet ropes. Paparazzi flooded the steps, shouting questions and snapping photos as guards pushed them back.
Zade took her hand without asking.
Alex stiffened.
But she didn’t pull away.
They walked together, regal and silent, through the chaos and into the grand hall. Inside, the guests were already gathered—champagne flutes in hand, violins playing softly from a corner stage. Everything glittered: silver-topped tables, crystal centerpieces, a towering cake she hadn’t even seen during planning.
Luca stood near the front, holding Nova’s hand as she sat in a cushioned chair, her smile bright but her posture tired. Alex felt a pang of guilt stab her gut. Her mother deserved better than this circus. So did Luca.
So did she.
As the couple of the hour, she and Zade were led to a raised table, centered beneath a string of hanging orchids. She barely glanced at him. He barely looked at her.
But beneath the silence, the imbalance was sharp.
Zade was closer to his goal now—whatever that was.
And she was slipping further from hers.
***
An hour passed.
It was easy to fake it. To laugh when people approached, to nod when someone made a joke, to sip champagne without tasting it. But the moment the music dimmed and the host’s voice echoed through the speakers, Alex’s fingers curled around the tablecloth.
“Time for the ring exchange,” someone announced.
Zade stood first, reaching into the small black box on the table.
She stared at him, eyes sharp and hollow, as he took her hand gently in his.
He slipped the ring onto her finger with steady care.
She didn’t blink.
She looked at him like she wanted to shatter every bone in his body.
Then, as Zade lifted his hand, the main doors swung open behind them.
The crowd turned. Zade turned.
So did Alex.
And she smiled.
David Brown walked into the room like he owned it. No invitation, no hesitation. His black suit was unbuttoned, his expression amused, and his eyes locked directly on Zade as if this was a show made just for him.
Zade’s entire body tensed.
His fingers dropped from Alex’s hand, and he stepped off the platform, weaving through the stunned guests toward David.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Zade hissed, voice low, jaw clenched.
David laughed softly, unfazed. “Wow. Relax. I’m not here for you.”
Zade blinked.
“I’m here,” David said, stepping aside, “for your fiancée’s dad.”
And just like that, Luca appeared.
He greeted David with a warm handshake and a familiar smile, the kind reserved for trusted associates—not strangers. They spoke briefly, then laughed, their voices lost beneath the noise of the party.
Zade stood frozen, his mind connecting dots too late.
David wasn’t just here. He was a partner of the Steels.
Alex didn’t hide her smile anymore.
For the first time in weeks, something felt right. For the first time, she was the one with the upper hand.
Her first personal win.
And Zade knew it.