Chapter 26

Harper’s POV

Riley’s silver Mercedes came to a stop in front of GlowMira’s towering glass entrance. The sunlight glared off the building like it, too, was judging me. I sat motionless in the passenger seat, clutching my coat and shielding half my face with my hair like some kind of Victorian ghost. My dignity as well as my tolerance for chaos, had hit an all-time low.

“Thanks again,” I said, attempting a grateful smile that came out more like a grimace. “Seriously, I owe you.”

Riley gave me a sunny grin, completely unfazed. “Please. It’s the least I can do after... well, you know.”

I sighed. “You mean after initiating the chain of events that led to me being publicly clowned, borderline blackmailed, and now forced to fake-marry a man who terrifies me with just a glance?”

“Exactly! That. But on the bright side...,you’re getting chauffeured now!”

I stared at her.

She reached over, inspecting my makeshift face covering. “Yeah, the eye patch is... not working. Wait.” She dove into the glove box and emerged with bug-eyed sunglasses.

I took them like she’d handed me a crime scene prop. “You expect me to wear these?”

“They’re practically half a mask. Trust me, you’re giving ‘mysterious heiress who vanished from society after a scandal.’ It’s hot.”

I sighed but slipped them on. Better absurd than exposed.

“I’ll pick you up after work, ok” Riley added, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And don’t even think about staying late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” not even in this state

---

I walked through the lobby of GlowMira like I was being hunted. People stared. I felt their eyes track me, their whispers ballooning around my head.

“Is that Harper?”

“What’s with the sunglasses?”

“She get into a fight or something?”

Each comment chipped away at my soul. Still, I kept walking, practically speed-walking to my desk like it was a safe zone in a video game.

Sasha greeted me with a curious look. “New style?”

“Eye condition,” I lied. “Photosensitivity.”

She nodded slowly. “Well... bold choice.”

I logged in and focused on my screen, willing myself to blend in. If Ethan saw me like this, he’d roast me alive.

I imagined the scenario.

*“There’s a suspicious woman lurking around floor seven.”

*“David, handle it.”

I groaned under my breath. ‘Okay, Harper. Just make it to six o’clock. No incidents. No interactions. No Ethan.’

---

“Harper! Free coffee from the department head!”

I turned too fast. Connor, carrying a tray, tripped.

The coffee flew. Time slowed.

My blouse didn’t stand a chance.

The scalding liquid splattered across the pristine white fabric like modern art gone horribly wrong.

Connor gasped. “Oh god! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s... fine,” I croaked, accepting the offered replacement like a person deeply at war with reality.

I fled to the bathroom.

---

I stood before the mirror like a ghost haunting its own bad choices.

The eye patch had slipped slightly. The bruise underneath was a harsh purple blotch. The sunglasses were crooked. And now the coffee stain made me look like I’d survived a mudslide.

“This can’t be my life,” I whispered.

I pulled out my phone. No new messages from Ethan. Yet.

I could already hear his voice in my head.

“I’m busy.”

“Too busy for a three-minute check-in?”

“I had an accident.”

“Send me the hospital bill.”

“I died.”

“I’ll bring flowers to the funeral.”

I groaned and leaned over the sink.

VRRRRT.

I froze. My phone buzzed again.

Incoming Call: Ethan Reynolds

Of course.

I picked up, heart hammering.

“Mr. Reynolds! I was just about to call you.”

His voice was calm. Controlled. Dangerous.

“We’re still on for Sunday. Confirm it.”

“I—can’t. I’m going on a business trip.”

Silence.

“Where?”

My mind blanked.

“Peru,” I said.

“Quito?”

“Yes—wait—no—I meant—”

“Quito is in Ecuador.”

I winced. “Right. Slip of the tongue.”

“Who approved the trip?”

“What?”

“What department? What’s your supervisor’s name? Where are you staying? What do you even do, Miss Jessica?”

My brain stuttered.

I placed the phone on the sink, stared at my own helpless reflection, and did the only logical thing.

BEEP.

I hung up.

Then turned off my phone.

---

Ethan’s POV

She hung up.

She actually hung up.

I stared at the silent screen like it had personally betrayed me.

My jaw clenched, The chair beneath me creaked as I leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands rolled up to a fist.

A knock.

David stepped in. “Sir. The chairman said—and I quote—‘get your rusty guns and knives, we’re goin’ hunting.’”

I didn’t reply.

David hesitated. “He’s losing patience. I’m assuming we’re still bringing someone Sunday?”

No answer.

“Sir?”

I picked up my phone again. Still off.

She was dodging me.

And that, I couldn’t tolerate.

The skyline glowed outside my office windows, but it felt cold.

She was hiding. Running.

But she’d have to come back sometime.

And when she did—