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Chapter 6: Headlines & Heartbeats
Last Updated:
2025-09-19 15:10:17
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Pretend to Be Mine Chapter 6: Headlines & Heartbeats
The morning after the gala, I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing nonstop.Notifications flooded the screen—group chats, social-media tags, even random classmates I hadn’t spoken to in years.My stomach dropped as I opened the first link.From Intern to Billionaire’s Flame: Who Really Is Elena Ramirez?Another headline followed: Cinderella or Con Artist?My hands trembled. Each article dissected my smile, my background—or lack of one.They pulled at scraps of my life like vultures, speculating, judging.Every ping felt like a drumbeat against my ribs. Why is my life suddenly a headline?I scrolled through comment after comment—half admiration, half speculation, all invasive.Even the tiniest detail about my dress or hairstyle was up for debate.“Elena!” Maya’s voice cut through from the kitchen, unusually sharp. “You need to see this.”Heart pounding, I rushed out. Maya sat cross-legged on the counter, scrolling with an expression that was equal parts rage and glee.“They’re writing
Pretend to Be Mine Chapter 5: A Night of Pretend
The invitation arrives in an envelope thick enough to pay rent. Gilded letters spell out: The Harrington Foundation Charity Gala.I stare at it on the kitchen table while Maya twirls the envelope like it’s a wand.“A gala,” she says reverently. “That’s code for free champagne and judgmental rich people.”“It’s code for humiliation,” I mutter. “I don’t belong in rooms like that.”“Correction,” Maya says, pointing with the envelope. “You pretend to belong. That’s the deal, right? Fake it till you make it.”I groan. “You make it sound easy.”“Because it is. Walk in there with Adrian, head high, pretend you own three yachts.Smile at cameras like you have nothing to hide. Piece of cake.”“Piece of humiliation cake,” I correct.By Saturday night, I’m zipped into a navy gown borrowed from the Harrington wardrobe team—fabric that shimmers like starlight under our apartment’s weak bulb.Even Maya is speechless for a full ten seconds before whispering, “You look like you were born to ruin bill
Pretend to Be Mine Chapter 4: Strings Attached
I woke to the sound of chaos disguised as breakfast. From the kitchen came Maya’s off-key humming, punctuated by spoon clangs that could wake the dead. I groaned and dragged the blanket over my head.The next second, Maya barged into the room, a piece of toast clenched between her teeth like a victory flag.“Rise and shine, fake billionaire’s girlfriend!” she announced, words muffled by bread.“Your prince probably wakes up at five a.m. to do push-ups made of hundred-dollar bills. You’d better start training.”I flinched as she swung the spatula like a baton, sending a drizzle of jam across the room. The toast in her teeth wobbled dangerously. “Are you auditioning for a kitchen orchestra?” I groaned. “Because it’s terrifying.” I hurled a pillow at her. “Don’t you have school?”“Please. This is more important. You are living the collective fantasy of half the internet.”She perched at the edge of the bed, eyes gleaming. “Fake dating a rich, hot man with jawlines sharp enough to cut dia
Pretend to Be Mine Chapter 3: The Lie We Agreed To
I clutched my phone with both hands like it might slip away if I loosened my grip. What had I just agreed to? The words still felt unreal in my mouth: a fake relationship with Adrian Harrington. I’d left his office an hour ago, my mind reeling, and now I paced our tiny living room, wearing a path into the threadbare rug.My footsteps echoed faintly against the apartment walls. Each pace made my stomach flutter like a trapped bird. My chest tightened, a cocktail of fear, thrill, and something I didn’t want to name.There was only one person I trusted with something this ridiculous.“Maya!” I called, my voice high and urgent. “Come here. Now.”A muffled giggle floated from behind Maya’s bedroom door. “Emergency, or did you finally decide to organize your closet?”“This is serious!” I snapped, pacing faster.Seconds later, Maya appeared in the doorway, T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, braid messy, a pen still tucked behind her ear. She looked like chaos in human form—and entirely too a
Pretend to Be Mine Chapter 2: His Deal, My Downfall
By morning, Adrian Harrington sat in his favorite corner of the private club—a sanctuary so immaculate it whispered power in every gleaming detail. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a skyline of glass and steel, sunlight flashing off distant towers. He stirred his black coffee with practiced indifference, but his thoughts refused to settle.Across from him lounged Marcus Hale—oldest friend, occasional tormentor, and the only man alive who still treated him like the reckless prep-school rebel he once was.Adrian traced the rim of his cup, the ceramic warm beneath his fingertips. The city shimmered outside the glass, but he barely noticed.“You’re brooding,” Marcus said, dropping sugar into his espresso. “Which means either the markets tanked overnight or you met a woman.”Adrian’s brow lifted in dry amusement. “Not everything revolves around women.”“With you, it usually does.” Marcus smirked. “Spill it.”Adrian considered brushing him off, but Marcus had always been annoyingly good at p
Pretend to Be Mine Chapter 1: When Worlds Collide
I rubbed my temples and stared at the glowing spreadsheets on my laptop screen. The numbers swam in front of my eyes, columns blurring together like waves. The office around me was nearly silent now—just the low hum of computers and the shuffle of the night security guard making his rounds. Most interns had left hours ago, but I was still here, clinging to perfection like it was oxygen. My boss hadn’t demanded I stay late. No one was watching me except the shadows stretching long across the glass walls. But mediocrity wasn’t an option. Not here, not at Harrington Enterprises, where excellence was the air everyone breathed—or suffocated without.My phone buzzed against the desk, vibrating insistently until I reached for it. Maya.“Don’t tell me you’re still at that office,” she said, laughter spilling through the line. “Elena, it’s Friday night.”“I’ll leave soon,” I promised, leaning back in my chair and pressing the bridge of my nose. “I just want this model finished before Monday.”
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