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Chapter 36
publish date:
2026-08-06 17:32:00Lydia’s POV
The heavy scent of jasmine oil and dry silk filled the dressing room, thick enough to coat the throat. The floor-to-ceiling mirror reflected the sharp, clean lines of the mahogany vanity, but my eyes were locked on the pool of deep red fabric draped over the velvet chaise lounge. The crimson silk caught the low amber light of the chandeliers, gleaming like fresh arterial blood against the dark cushions. Zane stood by the velvet curtains, his massi
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His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 36
Lydia’s POVThe heavy scent of jasmine oil and dry silk filled the dressing room, thick enough to coat the throat. The floor-to-ceiling mirror reflected the sharp, clean lines of the mahogany vanity, but my eyes were locked on the pool of deep red fabric draped over the velvet chaise lounge. The crimson silk caught the low amber light of the chandeliers, gleaming like fresh arterial blood against the dark cushions. Zane stood by the velvet curtains, his massive shoulders stretching the seams of a tailored black tuxedo jacket. His bow tie hung loose around his unbuttoned collar, his large hands resting flat against the pockets of his trousers as he watched me step out from behind the changing screen. The dress was a weapon. The heavy silk clung tightly to the curve of my hips, the structured bodice molding against my ribs before dropping into a backless plunge that exposed every inch of skin from the nape of my neck to the small of my
His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 35
Lydia’s POVThe heavy scent of heated beeswax drifted through the stillness of the study, sharp and dark. On the mahogany desk, a single white candle burned with a low, steady flame, its heat liquefying the solid stick of black paraffin held directly above it. A thick, dark droplet fell, hitting the crisp cream surface of a heavy cardstock envelope with a soft, heavy thud. I lowered the wax stick, picking up the heavy brass signet ring that had belonged to the Miller estate for three generations. I pressed the cold metal seal firmly into the center of the steaming black pool. The wax oozed out from beneath the edges, forming a stark, jagged border around the raised, gold-embossed lettering of the card underneath: THE ANNUAL SAPPHIRE CHARITY GALA. "She’s already booked the ballroom at the Grand Regency for the same night," Kian said from the leather armchair across the room. He didn't look up from his tablet, but his thumb made a sharp
His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 34
Lydia’s POVThe glow from the triple-monitor setup at the corner of the room cast a cool, sapphire light over the glass desk. On screen, endless columns of forensic financial data scrolled down in a steady, unyielding green waterfall. Kian’s fingers moved across the mechanical keyboard with a rhythmic, muted clacking, his face drawn in a hard line of absolute concentration. A half-empty cup of black coffee sat beside his mouse, the surface skin completely still. Across the room, Cassian paced the length of the Persian rug, his massive boots making no sound against the thick wool. His jacket was gone, his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows to reveal the dense, corded muscle of his forearms. Every few paces, he stopped to glare out the darkened window toward the perimeter wall, his jaw working a piece of wood-shaved toothpick between his teeth. "It’s not an estate preservation fund," Kian said, his voice cutting through the
His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 33
Lydia’s POVThe tires of two black sedans crunched heavily over the wet gravel outside the perimeter wall, the sound cutting through the quiet morning air of the Citadel. Inside the main courtyard, the wind caught the high leaves of the oak trees, sending a shower of cold droplets onto the hood of Zane’s truck. I stood near the floor-to-ceiling glass doors of the main pavilion, a warm mug of tea pressed between my palms, watching the dark vehicles approach the iron gates. They didn't have the markings of delivery vans, nor the sleek, low profiles of the cars Kian or Cassian favored. They were plain, unwashed, and official. From the sunlit playroom down the hall, the sharp, plastic click of building blocks echoed against the marble. Leo was humming a nonsensical tune, his small voice completely light and unburdened as he tried to construct a garage for his toy fire truck. The security monitors on the wal
His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 32
Lydia’s POVThe rain had turned the limestone facade of the Diamond Hearth Club into a dark, weeping fortress. I stepped out of the back of the town car, the cold wind immediately catching the hem of my camel-hair coat and whipping it against my calves. I didn’t wait for the driver to hold the umbrella. I took it from his hand, my fingers gripping the curved silver handle so hard the metal bit into my palm. Ahead of me, the double iron-gated doors of the city's most exclusive private club stood closed. To anyone else, they were a symbol of generational wealth, a barrier designed to keep the unwashed masses of the city at bay. To me, today, they were a lifeline. Arthur Pendleton was inside. He was the only board member of Miller Logistics who hadn't immediately turned off his phone when Clara's press conference aired. He owed my father a debt, and more importantly, his bank held the liquidity I needed to bypass the frozen domesti
His fake wife, their real obsession Chapter 31
The platinum-trimmed fountain pen felt heavy between my fingers, a cold anchor against the suffocating tension vibrating through the glass-walled boardroom. At the far end of the long mahogany table, Harrison, the Chief Financial Officer, cleared his throat. It was a dry, scraping sound that instantly drew twenty pairs of anxious eyes away from me and toward his end of the room. He didn’t look up from his screen. His fingers rapped a frantic, irregular rhythm against his tablet. "We need the final authorization token for the maritime insurance wire, Lydia," Harrison said, his voice tightly wound, bare of the usual deferential warmth he offered the CEO’s chair. "The Rotterdam freighter won't clear dock without the clearance code attached to the corporate black account. The port authority gave us a hard deadline of noon." "I am aware of the clock, Harrison." My voice cut through the low murmur of the room, steady and cool, though the back of my neck burned beneath the collar of
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