* FREE - Appreciation for our Readers * Chapter 94 : Help me find someone to temporarily play the role of my husband

Ava arranged to meet Rachel at a café. As they settled in, Rachel casually mentioned that she and Tom had gotten back together, claiming it was all just a misunderstanding. Ava knew how much Rachel loved Tom, so she bit her tongue and didn’t say anything.

Instead, she got straight to the point. "Rachel, help me find someone to temporarily play the role of my husband."

Rachel, who had just taken a sip of her coffee, nearly choked. "Cough, cough, cough—" She struggled for a moment, then stared at Ava in disbelief. "Alexander still doesn’t know your identity?"

Ava shook her head, cupping her coffee mug with both hands.

In her mind, Alexander was her boss—her benefactor. That was how she viewed him. But there was no denying the lingering memories of that night, the way his presence had consumed her. Beyond the physical intensity that left its mark, there was that thirty-second kiss—brief yet unforgettable, like a slow-burning ember she couldn’t fully extinguish.

She had pushed those thoughts aside, maintaining a rational approach toward him. Once his house was completed, his ex-girlfriend returned, and he clarified things with his grandfather, she could step away. She never entertained the idea of anything beyond that, not with the secret she carried.

Rachel, now realizing Ava was serious, tapped her manicured nails against the table, considering.

Ava studied her friend—the way her outfit was effortlessly expensive, her nails professionally done, her hair flawless. Anyone with an eye for these things could tell Rachel came from wealth. Yet, Tom still believed she was a simple waitress.

So, was Rachel just playing a role, too?

Their backgrounds were starkly different. Ava had learned caution the hard way, navigating betrayals and setbacks, while Rachel had been sheltered in privilege. In school, Rachel had been off-limits—no boy had dared approach her. Even now, despite the suitors in her social circle, she claimed they all looked like walking financial reports, too predictable for her taste.

Tom, on the other hand, had that effortless charm. Back in university, his name had flooded confession walls. Girls had always been drawn to him. Still, after what Ava witnessed at the hotel, she couldn’t help but be wary. "Rachel, don’t you think Tom might get suspicious? You dress like this every day—how does he not question it?"

Rachel’s lips curled into a playful smile. "Oh, Tom’s easy to fool. I told him all my designer stuff is fake. And he actually believed me. He even says he’s saving up to buy me the real thing one day." She giggled, eyes twinkling.

Then, lowering her voice, she added, "And you know what? He’s never been with anyone before. The way he—"

Ava held up a hand, cutting her off with an exasperated look. "I get it. Please spare me the details."

Rachel pouted. "Fine. But back to your problem—Ava, I don’t have many options. The people I know are all in Alexander’s circle. If you really want to keep this from him, you’ll need someone completely unrelated. Hiring someone yourself might be safer."

Then, as if struck by inspiration, she suddenly brightened. "Wait, I’ve got it! Tom has a friend—his family background is similar, but he’s totally outside Alexander’s world. He can definitely help."

Ava considered this. Tom was far removed from her circle, lowering the risk of exposure. "Alright. Get in touch with him."

Rachel wasted no time. She pulled out her phone and called Tom.

Meanwhile, across the city, Tom answered just as he slipped into a quiet alleyway. "Rachel?" His voice immediately softened.

Rachel didn’t bother with pleasantries. "Remember Ava? She needs a guy to pretend to be her husband. It’s nothing complicated—just occasional appearances, and the pay is good."

Tom strolled further into the alley. The buildings here were old, exuding a rustic charm that hadn’t changed in decades. His so-called friend had just gotten home from work.

Liam Norton, twenty-seven, was a struggling white-collar worker making barely five or six hundred a month. He lived in a cramped forty-square-meter house in this alley, caring for his disabled sister.

Tom glanced at Liam, who was currently tending to his sister, and made the decision for him. "He’s got a job, but this pays four thousand a month. He won’t need to show up often."

Rachel didn’t even hesitate. "Perfect. Tell him Ava’s address."

After hanging up, Tom turned to Liam and nudged him with his foot. "You’ve got a job. Pretend to be Ava’s husband, show up when needed, four grand a month. Get changed—we’re meeting her now."

Liam hesitated. "Tom… how long do you plan on keeping up this act with Rachel? Do you actually think you can marry into her family? Her dad would never allow it."

Tom exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "I don’t need to marry her. I just need her money."

Liam frowned. "And the person in the hospital? What happens when she wakes up?"

Tom flicked his cigarette away. "By then, Rachel and I will be over."

Liam didn’t press further. The money was too good to pass up.

An hour later, Tom and Liam walked into the café.

Ava took one look at Liam—plain, unremarkable, but completely unconnected to her world. Perfect.

The plan was set quickly. Ava wasted no time and transferred the first four thousand to Liam’s account. She also gave him her address.

Hearing "Upper West Side," Liam’s eyes widened. That was where his company’s CEO lived—an area worth millions. He swallowed hard, tempted but cautious.

"Miss Alvarez, rest assured, I’ll play my role well. Just message me, and I’ll come immediately."

Ava gave him a flat look. "Drop the ‘Miss Alvarez.’ Just call me Ava."

As they wrapped up, Ava casually asked about Liam’s job. She was surprised to learn he worked at Darby Construction—the very company she was currently collaborating with.

However, Liam was just another low-level employee, far removed from the executives she dealt with.

Once the meeting ended, Ava exhaled, feeling the weight of the problem easing slightly.

Now, she just had to decide.

Did she return to Upper West Side—where secrets lurked in every corner?

Or go back to Le Châteauesque Manor, where Alexander was?

---

The Upper West Side meant Brigitte and the woman entangled with Jared, while Le Châteauesque Manor meant Alexander—whose current whereabouts were uncertain. Ava rubbed her forehead, exhaustion settling deep in her bones.

After much deliberation, she chose to return to the Upper West Side.

Fortunately, she didn’t run into Brigitte, but as she reached her door, she noticed a sticky note plastered on it.

"You little slut, I already know you live here. If you don’t tell me where Jared is, be prepared for trouble."

Ava’s stomach tightened.

It was from Jared’s woman—the one who looked like she had ties to the underworld. Ava wasn’t afraid of threats, but she wasn’t foolish either. People like that had no boundaries; there was no telling what they might do.

But for now, she had bigger problems.

She still had to double-check her suppliers’ goods tonight before leaving for Ridgefield. What she didn’t know was that, at this very moment, Diana was already sitting in Alexander’s office.

---

"I heard you’ve been dealing with that designer," Diana said, her tone gentle but probing.

Alexander didn’t even look up from his documents. "Who told you that?"

"Raphael’s new girlfriend. She mentioned that Ava was introduced to me as Raphael’s partner, but it turns out she’s married."

Diana’s words carried a weighty reminder—Alexander might not care for his wife, but she was chosen by his grandfather. Any scandal involving him could shake the Vanderbilt family.

"Alexander, even if you don’t care about your wife, she was still arranged by your grandfather. You should know the consequences of messing around."

He sighed, closing the file in front of him. "Aunt, I was just drunk. It was one night."

Diana raised an eyebrow.

Alexander rarely drank himself into a stupor. Given his position, it was nearly impossible for him to lose control like that. Unless… someone had tampered with his drink.

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. She had underestimated this woman.

After leaving the Vanderbilt family, she made a call. Ava’s studio and business dealings would soon feel the weight of her influence.

---

Meanwhile, Ava was unaware of what was happening behind the scenes. She had finalized her orders with the suppliers and was just preparing for her Ridgefield trip when her phone started ringing.

One after another.

Every supplier was either hesitant or outright canceling their contracts.

"Miss Alvarez, we’re really sorry, but we—"

"Apologies, but we can’t take your order anymore."

"It’s out of my hands. Please try another store."

Call after call. Cancellation after cancellation.

Ava frowned, gripping her phone tightly.

First, Caterlington had interfered with her business, leading to her fallout with Mr. Wright. Now, even after Caterlington backed off and left Darby Construction to her, another force was shutting her down.

Where had she gone wrong?

As she mulled over the situation, her studio’s group chat lit up.

Matthew tagged her. "Ava, did you offend someone?"

She quickly replied. "What do you mean?"

His private message followed immediately.

"Several designers in the studio are getting their contracts canceled. Clients are saying someone in our studio caused offense. They want you to leave before they reinstate their business. Oh, and by the way, Patty has officially been fired. She’s still detained and will have to pay a hefty fine."

Ava’s mind raced.

A name surfaced—Diana.

Brigitte had spoken in front of Diana, planting seeds of doubt. Now, Diana likely saw her as a woman seducing both Raphael and Alexander under the guise of a designer.

She didn’t abuse her power often, but Diana was no fool. She would have done her own investigation before taking action.

Ava was stuck.

She could reach out to Alexander, but that would make her seem weak—like she couldn’t handle her own business. But if she didn’t? Her career was in jeopardy.

She considered Raphael, but Brigitte would be watching his every move.

With no other options, she exhaled sharply.

Alexander it is.

---

Alexander had been drinking at a social engagement that evening. Instead of returning to Le Châteauesque Manor, he checked into a hotel.

He scrolled through his phone absentmindedly, his gaze landing on a familiar image—the painting Ava had drawn.

There was no denying its artistry. Using only black and white, she had captured the essence of the moment perfectly. Alexander had attended enough exhibitions to recognize true talent.

His thoughts drifted to the night he met her in Ridgefield, painting under the dim lights.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he found himself thinking of her again.

As the elevator doors opened, he was met with a sight he hadn’t expected—Ava, standing there with a thermos in hand.

She had gone to Le Châteauesque Manor, only to realize Alexander wasn’t returning. So, she had come here instead.

She needed his help, and if she was going to ask for it, she had to approach him with a humble attitude.

"Mr. Vanderbilt," she greeted, her posture straight.

His gaze flickered toward her, noting the thermos in her hands.

"Do you need something?"

The entire floor was empty except for them. The soft glow of the hallway lights cast a subtle warmth over her face. How long had she been waiting here?

"Yes," she said, her voice steady. "May I come in and sit for a while?"

Alexander hesitated.

Late at night. Alone in front of his hotel room. A woman who had painted his portrait.

Every part of his logical mind told him to refuse.

But before he could, she stepped forward.

Ava couldn’t afford for him to say no. She had to explain this properly—Diana’s misunderstanding, the blacklisted contracts, the effect on her studio. It wasn’t a conversation that could be rushed.

Alexander finally sighed, swiping his key card and pushing the door open.

As he walked inside, Ava followed, the scent of cold wood and faint whiskey lingering in the air.

She sat down, placing the thermos on the coffee table.

Alexander shrugged off his suit jacket, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. The movement was casual, but for some reason, Ava found herself staring—his exposed collarbone, the subtle shift of his Adam’s apple as he tilted his head back.

"Speak." His voice was low, smooth, carrying the weight of exhaustion.

Ava snapped herself out of it and got to the point.

She explained Diana’s interference, the string of canceled orders, the looming threat over her career. She mentioned Brigitte’s accusations, Raphael’s new relationship, and how Diana must have found out about that night.

Alexander remained silent, his gaze unreadable.

Ava waited, but there was no response.

"Mr. Vanderbilt?"

No answer.

She looked over to find him resting his head against the couch, eyes closed.

He had fallen asleep.

Ava exhaled, relieved. At least he wasn’t ignoring her on purpose.

She moved to leave but hesitated. He looked—oddly peaceful like this. Against her better judgment, she grabbed a nearby blanket and leaned down to drape it over him.

But just as she did, his eyes fluttered open.

Their faces were inches apart.

The warmth of his breath ghosted against her lips, sending a shiver down her spine.

Then, suddenly—

A gentle pressure.

A kiss.

It wasn’t deep, nor demanding. Just a fleeting, barely-there touch.

Ava froze, her pulse hammering in her ears.

It felt like an invisible thread had tightened between them, pulling her under...