Zara felt the shift the instant Vivian Hale appeared beside them.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. But something invisible tightened in the air, sharp and unsettling, like the calm before a storm. Adrian's hand, which had been resting lightly at Zara's waist, stiffened. His fingers pressed into her dress just enough to signal awareness—possession.
Vivian noticed.
Her eyes flicked downward briefly, then lifted again with a polite, almost amused smile. "So," she said smoothly, "this must be Zara."
Zara straightened her shoulders. She had been in enough boardrooms to recognize a power play when she saw one. "And you're Vivian," she replied calmly.
Vivian's smile widened. "He told you about me?"
"Enough," Zara said evenly.
Adrian exhaled slowly. "Vivian, this isn't appropriate."
Vivian tilted her head, studying him. "Isn't it? You've avoided public appearances for months. Then suddenly you show up—with company." Her gaze slid back to Zara. "People are curious."
"People should mind their business," Adrian replied coolly.
Vivian laughed softly. "You always were protective."
Zara felt the word land sharply in her chest.
Protective.
Vivian took a step closer, lowering her voice slightly. "You look different from what I imagined."
Zara met her gaze without flinching. "Reality often disappoints expectations."
Something unreadable flashed in Vivian's eyes.
"We're leaving," Adrian said suddenly.
Zara turned to him, surprised, but didn't protest. Vivian's smile faltered just a fraction before smoothing again.
"So soon?" Vivian asked. "Dessert hasn't even arrived."
"You've had your chance to speak," Adrian replied.
Vivian's gaze lingered on Zara, sharp and assessing. "Enjoy the evening," she said lightly. "Both of you."
As they walked away, Zara forced herself to keep her posture composed. But once the car door closed and the city lights blurred past the window, the restraint snapped.
"That was your ex," Zara said flatly.
Adrian loosened his tie, staring straight ahead. "Yes."
"And you didn't think to mention her?"
"She's irrelevant."
Zara laughed softly, humorless. "She didn't act irrelevant."
"She doesn't matter anymore."
Zara turned to him. "Then why does it feel like she still has access to you?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "You're reading too much into it."
"And you're underestimating how it looked."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Zara asked quietly, "What was she to you?"
His pause was brief—but noticeable.
"Someone I trusted," he said.
The words settled heavily.
"And me?" Zara asked before she could stop herself.
Adrian turned, meeting her gaze. "You're—"
He stopped.
The hesitation hurt more than a lie.
The office buzzed the next morning.
Zara sensed it immediately—whispers traveling faster than emails, eyes flicking toward her desk when they thought she wasn't looking. Someone had leaked photos from the dinner. Not scandalous, but intimate enough to spark speculation.
Adrian Caldwell and Zara Whitman. Close. Familiar.
Too familiar.
Her phone vibrated constantly.
Is it serious?
Who was the woman with him?
Are you really dating the CEO?
Zara ignored every message.
Adrian stepped out of his office moments later, composed as ever, but she noticed the tension in his shoulders. His eyes found hers instantly, holding for half a second too long.
Then Vivian arrived.
She walked through the office as if she belonged there—confident, familiar, untouched by uncertainty. People greeted her warmly. Some eagerly.
That stung more than Zara expected.
By late morning, the rumors sharpened.
"She almost married him."
"She helped build the company."
"She never really left."
Zara overheard it near the break room, her chest tightening with every word.
She told herself this didn't matter.
This was fake.
Her heart didn't listen.
Adrian summoned her just before noon.
He closed the door behind her. "You heard."
She crossed her arms. "Enough."
"Vivian is here on business."
"Then why does she still look at you like she owns unfinished territory?"
"That's unfair."
"So is being blindsided."
Adrian stepped closer. "This arrangement doesn't give you the right to interrogate my past."
"And your past doesn't get to complicate my present," Zara replied softly.
A knock interrupted them.
Vivian entered without waiting.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said pleasantly.
"Yes," Adrian replied flatly.
Vivian's gaze shifted to Zara. "I thought we should talk."
"I don't see the need," Zara said.
Vivian smiled. "I think you will."
They met later that evening.
Zara didn't tell Adrian.
She wasn't entirely sure why—only that something inside her demanded clarity.
The café was quiet, dimly lit. Vivian was already seated when Zara arrived.
"You're brave," Vivian said.
"I don't like assumptions," Zara replied.
Vivian studied her thoughtfully. "Do you know why Adrian never commits?"
"That's not your story to tell."
"No," Vivian agreed. "But it's my responsibility to warn you."
Zara stiffened. "Warn me about what?"
Vivian leaned forward. "He doesn't love halfway. When he falls, it consumes him. And when it ends… it destroys him."
Zara's heart pounded. "This isn't real."
Vivian's eyes softened slightly. "That's what I told myself too."
Zara stood. "I'm not part of your history."
Vivian nodded. "No. You're part of his future."
Zara walked out before her resolve cracked.
Sleep didn't come easily that night.
Vivian's words echoed in her mind, colliding with memories of Adrian's touch, his intensity, the way he'd almost said something in the car.
By morning, Zara knew one thing with terrifying certainty.
This arrangement was no longer just an act.
And Adrian Caldwell was no longer just a role she was playing opposite.
When she arrived at work, Adrian was waiting near her desk.
"We need to talk," he said.
Before she could answer, a familiar voice cut in behind him.
"So do we."
Zara froze.
Vivian stood there, composed and confident.
Three people. One lie.
And jealousy waiting to ignite.