Ch. 5 - HEADLINES AND HEART LINES

JENSYN

Linden took me to his mansion again.

I had been here once, but it still felt surreal. The house was gigantic. It made me feel like I didn't belong here at will. On a serious note, I honestly didn't belong.

“You will need to be presentable for tonight,” Linden said, as if I had always been part of his life. “You must make it show at the gala that we are in love. That 3% share, you WILL work for it.”

A gala. Of course.

He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he turned to a young woman standing nearby, her uniform crisp and her eyes lowered. “Take her to the room I prepared.”

He prepared a room?

The maid gave me a quiet smile and motioned for me to follow her. The hallway stretched long, too long, like I was being led deeper into a maze. It wasn't the hallway leading to the room I had awakened in earlier today.

We stopped at a white double door. The maid opened it and stepped aside.

I froze.

It wasn't just a furnished room, it was designed. Soft lighting, creamy walls, a bed framed by lavender pillows. It was looking like a room that had always waited for me. There was even a stack of books on the nightstand. Titles I’d read and those I haven't.

My stomach tightened. How could he have done this when I only accepted his outrageous offer not less than four hours ago?

The maid left with a soft, “If you need anything, press the gold button by the door.”

I walked straight to the nightstand, where a single envelope sat. My name was written roughly, as if the writer was in a hurry.

I opened it slowly, already knowing it would annoy me.

>> JENSYN

The gala starts at eight. Wear something that turns heads. The press will be there.

>>> L

No dress. No instructions beyond that. Of course he thought I’d say yes.

He’d planned for it.

I tossed the note on the bed and turned on my heel. If he wanted me dressed to kill, he had better have something for me to wear. I wasn’t a magician.

I was still in my sorry excuse for a dress. It was a contrast to the magnitude of the house. As I turned toward the staircase, a tiny voice stopped me.

“Mrs. Rawlings?”

I flinched at the sound of the name. I was Mrs. Rawlings. How could I forget that?

“You even look better when you are scared.” It was the same little girl I had seen this morning. “My name is Andrea Rawlings.”

I blinked and looked down at her. Her blue eyes were the exact same shade as Linden. I swallowed hard, crouching slowly. “That's great, little girl. How old are you?”

“Eight,” she said and casually said, “it's just sad I wouldn't really be here.” I cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue and she got the hint. “I've been in boarding school since I was three.”

I sucked in a breath. Three?

Okay, that turned a string in my heart. Who puts a three-year-old in a boarding school? Well, it was no one else but Linden Rawlings.

Not if I break that rule though. It was stated in Linden's contract. Rule number 7 was to be Andrea's mother only on the outside, never on the inside.

“Well, little miss, what if I told you I will make you stop going there?”

Andrea seemed unconvinced. What was going on with Linden and his daughter? There was no hint of a healthy relationship. What could have happened to him to make him put a three year old in a boarding school till she was eight and counting?

“I want to see you do that. I have to go back to my room now.” She said and laughed. “Your hair looks like birds live in it. You should try looking presentable for daddy. He hates clumsiness.”

I gaped, then snorted. “Thank you… I think.”

Andrea skidded off down the hall, shaking her head. I turned back towards the room I came from, only to find Linden waiting just outside the door with his arms crossed.

“I assume you just remembered you had no clothes here,” he said without judgement. His eyes settled on me in a way that made my skin crawl.

I gave him a sheepish shrug. “It's kind of hard to forget when you made sure I became homeless today.”

“I took care of it,” Linden said. “Check the wardrobe.”

I eyed him and went into the room.

When I opened the wardrobe, I stared and immediately hissed.

“Are you kidding me?”

The wardrobe was packed with high standard sleek blazers, crepe and chiffon tops, cocktail dresses and many more I couldn't name. Shoes lined the bottom row: heels, flats, boots and sneakers from brands I only ever saw in display windows and on TikTok reels.

Who does this for a fake wife in 2025?

Even the underwear section looked like it had its own PR manager.

“Who buys all this for a fake wife?” I muttered, turning to look at him as I pulled out a red dress with intricate stitching. “Do I look like a trophy? You certainly need a mannequin with good shape if that's what you want. You don't need a wife.”

His smile widened. “You make it sound like a hostage situation.” It wasn't actually. I was getting 3% of his shares. That might be little, but it was enough. I would not only own that share, I will control it.

“Says a man who puts his three-year-old child in boarding school since she leant how to walk.” I scoffed. “ What kind of a father are you?”

The words had barely left my lips when I regretted them as Linden's face twisted in anger. His eyes flashed with irritation and the muscles in his jaw clenched.

He began to walk closer, and I backed away instinctively, until I came in contact with the wall. “W-what are you doing?”

“Watch your mouth, Jensyn Sawyer,” he said, voice like ice. “Break Rule One, and I will make your life harder than it was.”

Right. Rule number 1; “Under no circumstances should Jensyn Sawyer make Linden angry”. That was supposed to scare me, right? No, it didn't. It just made me more curious.

“Understood, now back off.” I said quietly, hoping my voice was loud enough for him to hear.

He backed off and walked out of the room without sparing me another glance. His arrogance annoyed me.

This was going to be a long ride.

***

I hadn’t expected the gala to look like this.

It was less of a party and more like a ritual. The room hummed with soft jazz and wealth. Waiters and waitresses glided past like blurry pictures, carrying trays of champagne. Everyone looked like they were their own designer.

Linden kept me close. He made sure to treat me like a trophy. His hand rested casually on the small of my back, firm but showing no possessiveness.

Fake or not, I played the part.

“Linden,” a gray-haired man with white teeth said, his gaze flicking to me, then lingering. “She’s stunning. How’d you manage this one?”

Linden’s lips curled faintly. “Charm. And a binding contract.”

The man laughed, thinking it was a joke. I smiled politely and let them talk about stocks and money.

People kept coming to shake hands, offering fake smiles, some with disbelief in their eyes as they looked at me.

I was getting tired until I looked at the entrance of the hall and someone entered.

She wore a floor length black dress that clung to her. Her hair was tied into a chignon that looked so tight and painful. She looked around as if looking for something, and when her eyes met Linden’s, her lips pulled into a slow, sinister smile.

She came to meet us and her aura could have made me back away. “Look who decided to show up with… something.”

Linden’s body tensed slightly beside me. “Susanne.”

“How are you, Linden? You look so good.” She said, pouting as she faced me. “This is something.”

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.

“This is the love of my life, Susanne.” Linden finally spoke. “Jensyn Sawyer.”

Her eyebrow twitched, just a flicker. “Is she a Minister's daughter? Or a politician? I've never heard of Sawyer in the upper class families.”

Linden’s fingers tightened against my waist, almost like warning. “She's not from here.”

Well, that was certainly true. I thought.

Susanne laughed, still looking at me. “He always likes collecting strays. I bet you aren't one, Jen-sen.”

“It's Jen-SY-en. It's S. Y. Not E. N. I love when people know how to pronounce my name well. It's not that hard.” I replied and saw Linden smirk. That was a good score. He liked my reply.

Susanne's smile cracked. “I am certainly sorry, Jen-SYN.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Enjoy it while it lasts, girl.”

She turned on her heel and walked away with the grace of someone who’d practiced walking over gravel.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“I need the ladies room,” I muttered, slipping out from under Linden’s arm.

I literally ran to the restroom to splash water on my face. I tried to cool the flush in my cheeks. My makeup wasn't destroyed so I didn't fear having a face that looked like watercolour poured on a canvas.

I was adjusting the neckline of my dress when I saw someone's reflection behind me in the mirror.

Susanne.

“Jensyn Sawyer,” she stared softly. “You are playing with fire, you know.”

I met her gaze in the mirror. “Is that a threat?”

“Take it however you want,” her tone was too calm. “That man doesn't love. I know. He controls. That little girl he calls his daughter knows better than anyone else, so run when you have the chance.”

I turned to face her fully. “What if I can tame the monster in him?”

“A monster can only be tamed by an angel who has the heart of a monster. And you don't look like you've got a leash for him. He’ll devour you.”

I wanted to say something but she had already walked out of the room. I stared at my reflection.

I didn't know what to make out of everything she said.

And that terrified me more than anything.