Vanessa's POV
The police interview lasted three hours.
Three hours of Detective Park asking the same questions in different ways: Did you access Chen-Reeves Technologies' servers? Did you steal proprietary code? Are you obsessed with your ex-fiancé?
Jake's lawyer—a sharp woman named Grace Morrison who turned out to be Jake's sister—answered most questions with My client declines to answer or That's speculation, not evidence.
When Detective Park finally let us leave, she smiled coldly. Don't leave town, Ms. Chen. We'll be in touch.
Outside the police station, reporters swarmed. Cameras flashed. Questions screamed from every direction.
Ms. Chen, did you hack your ex's company?
Are you stalking Marcus Reeves?
Is it true Jake Morrison bailed you out?
Jake's hand pressed against my lower back, guiding me through the chaos. His touch was firm, protective, burning through my blouse.
No comment, Grace said sharply, creating a path to Jake's car.
We climbed inside. The door shut, muffling the noise.
Silence.
I couldn't breathe. My hands shook in my lap. They think I'm a criminal. Marcus is making me look like a crazy ex-girlfriend who can't move on.
We'll prove you're innocent, Grace said from the front seat.
How? They'll fabricate evidence. Again. I'll lose everything. Again. My voice cracked. I can't do this anymore.
Jake's hand covered mine. Warm. Steady. Yes, you can. Because you're not doing it alone.
I looked at him. His dark eyes were intense, certain, like he genuinely believed I could survive this.
The meeting with Ryan, Jake said quietly. Are you still up for it? Or do you need time—
No. Let's go. I need... I need to do something. Anything. Before I lose my mind.
Jake squeezed my hand once, then pulled away to start the car.
I missed his touch immediately.
The restaurant was exclusive and private. Ryan Morrison waited at a corner table—young, maybe late twenties, with friendly eyes and an easy smile.
Ms. Chen. He stood as we approached. Thank you for coming. I know this morning was rough.
That's an understatement. I slid into the booth. Jake sat beside me instead of across. Close enough that our thighs almost touched.
Stop noticing, I told myself. Focus.
Ryan pushed a folder across the table. Mr. Morrison has a proposal. A business arrangement that could solve both your problems.
What problems? I asked.
Jake turned to face me, and suddenly he was very close. His cologne wrapped around me like a drug. Our feud is killing both our chances at winning Business Person of the Year.
I blinked. What?
Social media, news coverage—it's all focused on our rivalry. Marcus looks mature and professional while we look petty and dramatic. Jake's jaw tightened. He's using our public hatred to position himself as the stable choice.
Ryan pulled out his phone and showed me Twitter trends. #MorrisonChenFeud. #CorporateEnemies. #DramaAwards.
Then he showed me a poll: Who deserves to win Business Person of the Year?
Marcus: 52%
Jake: 28%
Vanessa: 20%
My stomach dropped. I'm losing.
We're both losing, Jake corrected. Marcus is winning because he looks like the victim and the peacemaker. We look like children having a tantrum.
So what do you suggest? We hold hands and sing songs?
Actually, yes. Jake's eyes locked on mine. Not the singing part. But the rest.
My heart skipped. What are you saying?
Ryan cleared his throat. Mr. Morrison is proposing that you two... date. Publicly.
I laughed. Actually laughed. You're insane.
I'm strategic. Jake didn't smile. Think about it. What's more compelling than enemies who become lovers? The press would eat it up. Redemption arc. Second chances. Love conquering hate. It's perfect.
It's fake.
It's marketing. Jake leaned closer. Twelve weeks of public dating. Social media posts. Public events. Couple interviews. Then, after the awards ceremony, we announce an amicable split. No drama. Just two professionals who gave it a shot.
You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend.
I want us both to win. Jake's voice dropped lower. Marcus is playing dirty. David's backing him. They're destroying both our chances. But if we unite? We become the story. The impossible romance. The business rivals who found something more.
Something we don't actually have.
Jake's eyes flickered with something I couldn't read. Something we can fake convincingly.
My heart pounded. Being close to Jake for twelve weeks. Touching him. Pretending to be in love with him when I was already fighting real feelings.
This is a terrible idea, I whispered.
It's a brilliant idea, Ryan countered. The narrative shifts immediately. You're not enemies anymore—you're star-crossed lovers. Marcus looks bitter and jealous. David loses his power to manipulate the feud. And you both increase your odds of winning.
What makes you think anyone would believe it?
Because they want to believe it, Jake said quietly. The internet loves a good enemies-to-lovers story. Give them one.
I stared at him. And after the awards? We just... break up?
Amicably. Cite busy schedules. Different priorities. The press gets their fairy tale, we get our awards, everyone wins.
Except it's all a lie.
Jake's hand found mine under the table. My breath caught. Is it really lying if everyone gets what they want?
His thumb stroked across my knuckles, and I forgot how to think.
I need conditions, I managed. If I even consider this insanity.
Name them.
Equal decision-making on all public appearances. No surprise kisses or grand gestures without my consent. I control my own social media narrative.
Agreed.
And if this backfires—if it makes things worse—we end it immediately.
Deal. Jake's eyes burned into mine. Anything else?
Yes. Don't look at me like that. Don't touch me like you mean it. Don't make me fall for you when this is all pretend.
No, I lied. That's it.
Ryan produced a contract. I skimmed it quickly—appearances, social media requirements, timeline, exit clause. It was legitimate. Professional.
Completely insane.
This could destroy both our reputations if anyone finds out it's fake, I said.
Then we make sure no one finds out. Jake's voice was steady, confident. We sell it so well that even we believe it.
I looked at the contract. At Jake's hand still holding mine under the table. At Ryan's hopeful face.
At the folder of evidence showing Marcus winning while I drowned.
I need time to think.
Jake nodded slowly. Started to pull his hand away.
I grabbed it, stopping him. How long do I have?
Twenty-four hours. After that, I pitch it to someone else.
Jealousy flared hot in my chest. Someone else?
I need a fake girlfriend, Vanessa. If you won't do it, I'll find someone who will. His eyes challenged me. But you're my first choice.
Why?
Because you're brilliant. Beautiful. Exactly Marcus's type—which means seeing you with me will drive him crazy. Jake leaned so close I could feel his breath on my lips. And because I think you want this as much as I do.
Want what? Revenge?
Among other things.
The air between us crackled with electricity. With possibilities I didn't want to name.
Ryan cleared his throat awkwardly. I'll just... go get us some water.
He disappeared, leaving Jake and me alone in the booth.
You're asking me to lie to everyone, I said quietly. The press. My friends. Maya.
I'm asking you to fight back. Jake's hand tightened on mine. Marcus thinks he's won. David thinks he's destroyed us both. Let's prove them wrong.
By pretending to date?
By becoming the story they can't ignore.
I stared at our joined hands. Felt the warmth spreading up my arm, into my chest, wrapping around my heart.
This was dangerous. Reckless. The worst idea anyone had ever had.
I'll think about it, I whispered.
Think fast. Jake released my hand and stood. Because Marcus just announced his engagement party. Next week. He's inviting the entire tech industry. Including both of us.
My blood ran cold. His engagement party? To Lily?
Front page of every society blog. The perfect CEO with his perfect fiancée, moving on while you and I look bitter and alone. Jake's eyes hardened. Unless we show up together. As a couple. And steal his spotlight.
The thought of watching Marcus and Lily celebrate while I stood alone made me want to scream.
But showing up on Jake Morrison's arm?
That would break the internet.
I'll give you my answer tomorrow, I said.
Jake pulled out a business card and wrote something on the back. My personal cell. Call me when you decide.
He left, and I sat alone with the contract, my mind spinning.
Ryan returned with water. He really hopes you say yes, you know.
Why? He could ask anyone.
Because it has to be you. Ryan's eyes were knowing. You're the only one who makes sense. The only one who— He stopped himself.
Who what?
Nothing. Never mind. But his smile said everything.
I left the restaurant with the contract burning a hole in my bag.
Maya met me at a coffee shop an hour later. Well? What did Jake want?
I told her everything. The fake dating proposal. The twelve weeks. The awards strategy.
When I finished, Maya was silent for a long moment.
So let me get this straight, she finally said. Jake Morrison—the hottest billionaire in San Francisco, the man you've been secretly crushing on for six weeks—wants to fake-date you.
It's not like that.
It's exactly like that. Maya grinned. And you're going to say yes.
I haven't decided.
Lyn. You get to pretend-date the man you actually like. That's not a business opportunity. That's fate.
It's fake, Maya. None of it will be real.
Are you sure about that?
I thought about Jake's hand holding mine. His thumb stroking my knuckles. The way he'd looked at me in the restaurant like I was the only person in the room.
I don't know, I admitted.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
Heard about Jake's proposal. Smart move. But we both know the truth—you'll always be the girl who got played. See you at my engagement party. Try not to embarrass yourself. —Marcus
Rage flooded through me, hot and sharp.
Maya read over my shoulder and whistled. Well, that makes the decision easy.
I pulled out Jake's card. Stared at his personal number.
Then I texted: I'm in. But I have one more condition.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Jake: Name it.
Me: I'll pay you $2 million. That money could save her company's expansion plans.
I stared at the words, my hands shaking.
Lyn? Maya's voice seemed far away.
Another text came through: I don't want your money, Vanessa. I want a partner. Someone who fights as hard as I do. Is that you?
Was it me?
I typed back: Yes. When do we start?
Jake: Tonight. I'm picking you up at seven. Wear something that photographs well. Our first date is going to break the internet.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it might explode.
What did you just agree to? Maya asked.
I have no idea, I whispered. But I think I just made either the best or worst decision of my life.