Marla’s POV
I slammed the car door so hard I swore the glass rattled. Screw him, screw his ego, screw his perfect face and the way he stood there like nothing happened. “You heartless jerk,” I muttered, stomping down the sidewalk in heels that were never meant for running.
“Selfish, cold, manipulative-” My phone buzzed. I yanked it out of my bag, half-expecting another PR disaster. But it was Dana.
Dana: She’s awake. The doctors moved her to the ward. Grandma’s asking for you.
Just like that, everything else dropped. I turned on my heel and hailed the first cab I could find. Screw Ives, my grandma needed me. The hospital smelled like disinfectant and old secrets. I rushed into her room, heart pounding, mascara half-smudged from crying in the backseat. And there she was, my grandmother, propped up in bed, her eyes blinking slowly like she just came back from another world.
“Grandma?” My voice cracked.
She smiled, that soft, wise smile that made everything feel less heavy. “There’s my girl.”
I sat on the edge of her bed, grabbing her wrinkled hand and holding it like it was the only real thing left in my life. “You scared me,” I whispered.
“I always come back,” she said, then looked me over. “You look... tired.”
“Well,” I gave a dry laugh, “My boss is annoying. He has so many orders, is self-centered, bossy, and an asshole.”
She chuckled, but her face turned serious. “I saw the news, you know. The ring, the man. He’s quite handsome. When do I get to meet him? You didn’t tell me about it.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Tell her the truth, Marla. Just tell her it’s all fake and falling apart, and that the guy who walked me into this lie left me alone tonight to deal with it.
I stayed quiet, looking for the right words to say until I heard the door open. I turned, and froze. It was him.
Ives Mercer, in all his annoying, irritating, infuriating glory, standing in the doorway like the night hadn’t completely imploded. Suit sharp as ever, hair perfect, and in his hands? A goddamn fruit basket and a massive bouquet of lilies. What the hell?
My jaw nearly hit the floor. I blinked, thinking maybe I was hallucinating from stress or lack of sleep. He walked in like he belonged there. Like we hadn’t just gone nuclear a few hours ago. “Good evening,” Ives said smoothly, stepping fully into the room. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic.”
Traffic?! I stared at him, genuinely speechless. Was he seriously playing the doting fiancé right now? “You must be the fiancé I’ve heard about,” Grandma said, eyes lighting up like it was Christmas morning.
Ives gave a small, respectful bow, because of course he did. “Ives Mercer. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He set the bouquet gently on the nightstand, then handed her the fruit basket like he wasn’t the devil in designer loafers.
I sat there frozen, lips parted, watching the entire thing like I’d slipped into a parallel universe. My brain scrambled for logic, for any hint this was a dream. But no, this was real. Too real. And he was pulling it off. Effortlessly.
“Marla didn’t mention you were coming,” Grandma said.
“She didn’t know,” he replied, throwing me a look of surprise.
I finally snapped out of it long enough to fake a laugh. “Yeah. Surprise.” Inside, I was screaming.