Chapter Three The proposal

I hadn’t left the penthouse in four days.

I didn’t need to. Killian’s place sat above the city like it was built to defy gravity—above the noise, above the gossip, above the ashes of my life.

No reporters camped out front. No curious neighbors. Just silence. Stillness. Glass walls that watched the city breathe beneath my bare feet.

Each morning, I woke up and made tea I never drank. I wandered across the cold stone floors, circled the same rooms like they might offer clarity if I passed them enough times. I stared out at the skyline until my vision blurred and my thoughts drifted into nothing.

And every time I passed the teddy bear on the couch, something inside me twisted so hard I thought I’d tear in half.

The silence didn’t scare me.

It was the only thing that made sense anymore.

Killian gave me space and that was what I appreciated the most.

He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t offer or give any unwanted pity. Just presence quiet which was Constance

The sound of ice clinking in a glass when he came home late. The way he sometimes paused in the hallway, eyes flicking toward me, like he wanted to say something and chose not to.

I appreciated that.

I didn’t need words.

I needed time.

But time doesn’t shield you from headlines.

By the fifth morning, my name was everywhere again.

“Ex-Mistress of Tobias Sinclair: Where Is She Now?”

“Gold Digger or Victim? Society Still Divided.”

“Veronica Speaks: ‘She Knew He Was Mine.’”

I tossed my phone onto the coffee table with a thud and walked into the kitchen, barely resisting the urge to drown the damn thing in the sink.

The headlines didn’t hurt like they used to.

They didn’t sting.

They just made me furious.

Good.

Let them talk.

Let them watch.

Let them choke on it.

I stood there, wrapped in Killian’s oversized hoodie—its sleeves brushing the tips of my fingers, the scent of his cologne soaked into the fabric—while the news app still glowed from the counter like a threat.

Behind me, a voice broke the silence.

“I bet you want to disappear into a cave by now, don’t you?”

Killian stood at the threshold of the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and I moved my gaze away from him because I hated the fact that I was very aware of just how dangerous and hot he looked standing there.

“No,” I said flatly. “I want them to see me.”

He stepped into the room and reached for the whiskey on the shelf.

“You should be afraid,” he said calmly, pouring himself a drink.

I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not legally tied to Tobias. No prenup. No protection. No name. You’ve got no PR team to clean this up, no family dynasty backing you.” He looked at me directly. “You’re standing in a battlefield with a paper shield, Emery.”

I hated how true that was.

“So what,” I muttered. “You’re here to remind me I’ve lost?”

He sipped his drink and tilted his head slightly. “No. I’m here to hand you a sword.”

I leaned against the counter, arms folded. “And what does that look like, exactly?”

. “A fake engagement.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You wear my ring,” he said. “We give the media a new story. Something bigger, louder, shinier than Tobias’s lies. Let them turn their cameras. Let them choke on the scandal.”

I stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “You want us to get engaged?”

His mouth didn’t move, but something about his expression shifted. “Wejust need them to believe it.”

My chest tightened. “That’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t a joke.”

“You think this will fix everything? Make me immune to the press? To Tobias?”

“I think it will make you untouchable,” he said. “You’d be protected by my name. My team. My resources. And Tobias will lose everything trying to spin a lie bigger than the one we give him.”

I laughed—sharp, bitter. “This is insane. You don’t even like me.”

He stepped closer, his eyes unreadable. “That’s never mattered before.”

“What’s in it for you?” I asked.

His answer was immediate. “Leverage. And the chance to destroy Tobias from the inside out.”

I stared at him, heart pounding, mind spinning.

“Why me?” I asked, quieter now. “Why help me?”

Killian set his glass down on the counter and closed the space between us, slow and deliberate.

“Because I’ve watched you burn in silence for two years while he paraded you like a trophy he didn’t deserve,” he said. “Because I know what it’s like to be collateral damage in someone else’s game. And because I’m tired of standing on the sidelines.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want your pity.”

“Hell sweetheart, this isn’t pity,” he said, voice low. “Let’s call it war, shall we?”

I looked away, trying to calm the storm rising in my chest.

“And what would I be in this arrangement?” I asked, eyes still on the wall. “A pawn?”

“No,” he said, taking one more step. “You’d be the queen. My queen.”

The words hit me like a jolt.

I turned slowly to face him. “And when the world moves on? When you get tired of playing pretend fiancé?”

He didn’t blink. “I don’t play games I can’t win.”

I searched his face. “I don’t trust you.”

His lips curved, just slightly. “You shouldn’t.”

I exhaled, pressing my palms into the countertop, grounding myself in the marble’s cool surface.

This was dangerous.

It was reckless.

It was exactly what Tobias wouldn’t see coming.

Exactly what I needed to get the upper hand for once.

I turned back to Killian. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—satisfaction, maybe. But he didn’t look surprised.

“On one condition,” I added.

He waited.

I stepped closer, liftin

g my chin. “Ruining Tobias for what he did to me…my baby… will be your - our priority.”

“Trust me Emery. We will make him kneel and beg for mercy.”