Chapter Eighteen: Front Page

Ethan's POV

The moment the Mercedes pulled away from the restaurant, silence settled between us. Not the comfortable kind. The dangerous kind.

The city lights streaked across the tinted windows as the chauffeur drove through downtown, leaving the flashing cameras behind. Their lights still reflected faintly against the glass, but their voices had finally disappeared.

Sophia sat beside me without saying a word. She leaned her head against the window, staring at the passing skyline. She looked exhausted.

The evening had demanded more from her than I intended. The makeover, the fittings, the public dinner, and finally the photographers waiting outside—it was enough to overwhelm anyone who hadn't spent years living under public scrutiny.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes briefly.

"You alright?" I asked.

She opened them slowly. "Do I look alright?"

"No."

She let out a tired laugh. "At least you're honest."

Silence returned. I rarely felt the need to fill empty spaces with conversation. Tonight was different.

"You'll get used to it." She turned to look at me.

"The cameras?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to get used to them."

"You don't really have a choice."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Easy for you to say."

"It is."

"You've lived with this for years."

"I have."

"I haven't."

I nodded once. "I know."

She folded her arms across her chest. "No, I don't think you do."

Her voice remained calm, but I could hear the frustration beneath it.

"You knew they would be there."

"I did."

"And you didn't tell me."

"If I had told you, your reaction would've looked rehearsed."

She stared at me for several seconds. "So you used me."

"I protected the contract."

"There you go again."

"What?"

"Everything is the contract."

"Because it is."

She laughed bitterly. "I don't think you know how to talk like a normal person."

"I talk just fine."

"No."

She shook her head. "You negotiate."

"I run a company."

"And I'm not one of your business deals."

The words lingered between us. I looked away first.

"I never said you were."

"You didn't have to."

Her disappointment caught me off guard. For the first time since this arrangement began, guilt crept into my chest. It was unfamiliar. Annoying. Necessary.

I almost apologized. Almost. Instead, I watched the city pass by in silence. Feelings complicated everything. I couldn't afford complications. Not with eleven weeks standing between me and losing everything my grandfather had left behind.

The Mercedes slowed before the entrance to Blackwell Tower. The chauffeur stepped out and opened Sophia's door first.

She climbed out, then stopped. Her eyes travelled slowly upward. Forty-eight floors of glass and steel towered into the night sky.

"This is where you live?"

"Yes."

She looked at me.

"One person actually lives here?"

"For now."

She smiled faintly. "I suddenly feel poor."

"You already knew I was rich."

"I knew."

She laughed softly. "I just didn't know it looked like this."

We entered through the private lobby. The receptionist immediately stood.

"Good evening, Mr. Blackwell."

I nodded. She smiled warmly at Sophia.

"Congratulations, Miss Hart."

Sophia froze. "Thank you," she answered awkwardly.

We stepped into the private elevator. Neither of us spoke during the ascent. The doors opened directly into the penthouse.

Sophia walked out first. Then stopped. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the entire living room.

The city glittered beneath us. Modern artwork decorated the walls. A black grand piano stood near the glass. Soft lighting reflected against polished marble floors.

The apartment wasn't designed to impress. It simply did.bShe slowly turned in a circle.

"This..." She looked speechless. "...is bigger than the apartment building I grew up in."

I couldn't stop the small smile that appeared. "It isn't that big."

She looked at me as though I'd lost my mind. "You billionaire people are strange."

Before I could reply, the elevator chimed again. Dante walked in carrying a tablet beneath one arm and a paper bag in the other.

"There they are." He looked between us before grinning. "Our celebrity couple."

Sophia sighed. "I don't even want to know."

"Oh, trust me."

He placed the tablet on the coffee table. "You absolutely do."

He tapped the screen. Within seconds, dozens of headlines appeared.

BLACKWELL HEIR FINALLY REVEALS HIS MYSTERY WOMAN.

WHO IS SOPHIA HART?

SECRET OFFICE ROMANCE CONFIRMED.

BILLIONAIRE CEO SPOTTED ON INTIMATE DATE.

Sophia blinked. "They work fast."

"They always do," Dante replied.

He scrolled again. There were already thousands of comments. Videos. Photographs. Speculation. One picture showed me helping Sophia into the car.

Another captured me holding her waist outside the restaurant. One image caught us laughing together. It almost looked real.

"They think we're actually in love," Sophia whispered.

"They're supposed to," I answered.

Dante looked pleased. "I'll admit it."

He pointed toward one photograph. "You two look convincing."

"We're acting."

"You'd better keep acting."

Sophia looked away. "I never wanted this much attention."

"You'll survive."

She looked directly at me. "You really think surviving is the same as living."

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated. Father. I already knew why he was calling. I answered.

"Yes."

His voice remained cold. "I've seen the news."

"I'm sure you have."

"So the rumors are true."

"They are."

Silence. Then— "Bring your fiancée home tomorrow evening."

That was all. The call ended. I lowered the phone slowly.

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"My father wants to meet Sophia."

The smile disappeared from Sophia's face. "What?"

"My family dinner."

"So soon?"

"They've already seen the headlines."

She swallowed. "I don't think I'm ready."

I met her eyes. "You don't have to be."

Her hands tightened around her handbag. "I can pretend."

I shook my head. "No."

She frowned.

"My family has spent decades pretending." I slipped my phone back into my pocket. "They know exactly what fake looks like."

The room fell silent. For the first time since signing the contract… I wasn't worried about fooling the public. I was worried about fooling my family.