Chapter 6

OPHELIA

I said nothing on the ride home.

Charlotte rode alongside me in the back of the car, her fingers moving rapidly over the screen of her phone, swearing softly to herself in her PR lingo. The tension between us was oppressive, but I needed it. I needed the silence to keep myself from coming apart, and blowing up across the soft leather seat of the car.

When we reached my penthouse, I didn't even allow the driver to step out to open the door. I opened the door and ran out, my heels ringing too loudly on the pavement, and stormed into the building.

The moment the front door closed behind me, I turned around to face Charlotte.

"Tell me everything,” I started. “How bad is it?"

Charlotte blinked at me. "You sure you want the full version?" she asked.

"I'm not in the mood for half-truths, Char,” I said. “Just talk. How bad is it?"

She sighed and followed me into the living room, dumping her bag on the couch. "Okay. The media thinks you two are back together as we said before,” she began, dropping on the couch. “Investors are freaking out, and two of our biggest investors pulled out this morning. Also, there’s a TikTok edit of you guys 'falling in love' to some version of Enchanted by Taylor Swift. It has like 2.4 million views."

I closed my eyes and held the bridge of my nose between my fingers. "Jesus Christ."

“Oh,” she continued, totally ignoring the fact that I was I having a breakdown right now. “and apparently, you guys have a ship name already. On T*****r it’s #Ale❤️LiaRising and it’s really trending. You guys are umber three in the world.

I flopped back into the armchair, letting out a heavy sigh "This is a circus."

Charlotte didn't deny it. She sat down on the couch arm and looked at me like I would burst into flames at any moment. "They think you're in love again," she said cautiously.

"Then they're idiots," I replied.

"Well, well done, Lia,” she continued. “You're now the poster child of the most romantic tragedy of the year. You're welcome."

I glared at her. "How are you so put together despite all this?"

"Because I've been up since four a.m. and my nervous system has officially checked out on me."

I let out a bitter laugh, rubbing my temples. "How in the world did it come to this, Char?"

"Well, you kind of let gravity fool you in a room full of cameras," she replied matter-of-factly. "But hey, silver lining—you didn't break your neck."

"Almost wish I had," I muttered bitterly.

Charlotte glared at me. "Don't make a joke about that."

"Wish I was," was my only reply.

We stared at each another for a few seconds. Then I said, "Is the contract ready?"

Charlotte blinked. "Already? You're going through with it?"

"I said I would, didn't I?" My voice was icy. "Let's turn this mess into something useful."

She stared at me for a moment, then reached into her bag and pulled out a bulging folder. "Nolan acted fast and I made sure every clause considers you."

I flipped through the pages, scanning the words. Everything was there—NDA stipulations, branding rights, timeline stipulations and the period of our fake engagement which was six months.

“It stated her that a renewal will not be necessary,” I said referring to the engagement clause.

“Yup,” she said. “Just like you wanted. A termination clause is also there should either party breach media etiquette.”

Control. I loved that. I could feel everything finally coming back together.

"Send it to him," I told her. "Do it through his attorney or whatever. I don't wish to speak with him. Not now or ever."

"Okay," Charlotte answered. "You sure about not seeing him face-to-face? That'll make this whole thing more difficult."

"He doesn't have to work with me,” I said. “He just has to follow orders. This whole thing is not a reconciliation, it’s a plan. Make him realize that."

"Will do," she muttered.

"Oh,” I said, recalling what I wanted to tell her, “—and get a press release done in an hour. I want it to go public. Nothing sensational. Something like…" I paused. "We've reconnected in a surprising way and are working on a new future together. Make it sound sweet and all that."

Charlotte snorted. "You're asking me to write about a war zone like it's a honeymoon?"

"Exactly."

She was finally getting it.

Her phone buzzed then and she looked at it and winced. “The Times wants a comment, Lia. TMZ’s also trying to get Alessandre’s side. And Elle magazine just emailed asking if they can do a couples’ feature.”

I raised an eyebrow. “They don’t even know if we’re actually engaged,” I asked in shock.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You’re now their favorite narrative. The Ice Queen reunited with the fallen King? It’s gold, Ophelia.”

I got up and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out into the city lights. "Send them a picture. One of the older ones. Grainy and provocative would be good. Let them think about that."

Charlotte smiled, her thumbs moving rapidly over the keyboard. "Done. Oh, and Lia—we found his address. It wasn’t even that hard."

My head whipped around to hers. "What?"

She shrugged. "I guess he's not that hard to find if you think about it."

I clenched my fists. "Hmm. Didn’t expect him to be that easy to find."

Charlotte smiled softly. "If I ever get married, I hope someone says something about me that sounds that sweet."

I rolled my eyes and left.

An hour later, my phone started ringing non-stop.

Alerts flashed like firecrackers across my screen. News websites, blogs, t*****r threads and engagement posts were already talking about it.

I headed to I*******m and the official statement was already streaming.

Ophelia Wren and Alessandre Marcello are engaged. The two, who bumped into each other unexpectedly at a recent charity gala, have decided to give each other another chance. We wish them luck.

There was a photo attached of him and I in Paris, six years ago. My head was on his shoulder and he had his hand around my waist. I was smiling like a lovesick fool, unaware of the heartbreak that waited just around the corner.

I swiped through the comments.

The romance we didn't know we were missing.

Let him off, girl. We've all been there.

He never gave up on her. You can tell.

Ale❤️Liasupremacy!!!

I hurled my phone across the room. It landed on the couch and bounced onto the floor.

Charlotte leaned against the doorway, nibbling on the edge of her nail. "You okay?"

"No."

"Want to cancel the whole thing?" she asked, taking a slight step forward.

"No."

She waited.

"I just..." I took a breath. "I want this to be clean. The PR, the damage control. I want this to work."

Charlotte nodded. "Then we'll make it clean."

"Good. Because I'll say this once, and I want it clear in every email and every fucking memo that goes to him—"

"Go on."

“This isn't real,” I started. “There's no second chance. No love story. No 'what ifs.' We're not rekindling anything. We're not in love. We're not friends. We're business. Nothing more."

Charlotte regarded me, cautiously. "You think he doesn't know that?"

"I don't care what he knows. I only care that he remembers."

The room fell silent for a long moment.

"Alright," she said at last. "I'll make sure he does."

"Good.

I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water, and tried to soothe the thunder in my heart.

But deep down—layered beneath the hardness, the control, and rising rage—I remembered the way he looked at me at the ball.

As if I still mattered.

And that?

That scared me the most.