Chapter 5

“Maria, aren’t you getting ready?”

My mother’s voice reached me before she did.

I was still on the edge of my bed, half-dressed, doing absolutely nothing productive. Jeans. Sweater. Closet wide open like it was waiting for me to make a decision I clearly wasn’t making.

The auction started in less than two hours.

I hadn’t even touched a dress.

“I don’t think I’m going,” I said.

She appeared in the doorway a second later, already put together in a way that felt… intentional. Like she’d been ready long before tonight.

“Why?”

I shrugged, eyes drifting back to the closet.

“Just not in the mood.”

She didn’t say anything immediately. Just watched me for a second.

Then—

“Is this about that boy?”

There it was.

I didn’t look at her right away.

“You mean Noah.”

She stepped into the room, slow, measured.

“Maria, darling, you know that’s not what I meant.”

I turned then.

“Yes. It is.”

She exhaled softly, like this was familiar. Like I was repeating something she’d already decided wasn’t worth arguing about.

“We’ve had this conversation.”

“No,” I said. “You’ve had it.”

That landed.

Not loudly. Just enough.

Her posture shifted slightly.

“You are a Walker.”

I let out a quiet breath. “And?”

“And people notice who we associate with.”

Of course they do.

I almost laughed, but it didn’t come out right.

“How do you expect people to take this family seriously,” she continued, calm as ever, “if our daughter insists on being with someone like that?”

I looked at her properly then.

“Like what?”

“Maria—”

“No, just say it.”

She didn’t.

Not fully.

But she didn’t need to.

“His family doesn’t move in the same circles,” she said eventually.

I stood up slowly, more to do something than because I needed to.

“So that’s the problem.”

“It’s not a problem,” she corrected gently. “It’s reality.”

“It’s snobbery.”

“Maria.”

“You don’t even say his name,” I said. “It’s always ‘that boy.’”

Her expression softened in that way I hated—careful, patient, like she thought I’d understand eventually.

“We want what’s best for you.”

“I already have what’s best for me.”

“Do you?”

That one stayed.

It didn’t sound harsh. That’s what made it worse.

I didn’t answer immediately.

“He loves me,” I said.

“And love is wonderful.”

I waited.

“But it doesn’t build stability.”

There it was.

Clear.

No hesitation.

I sat back down on the bed, suddenly tired of standing.

“I’m going to the auction.”

She seemed almost pleased, though she tried not to show it too much.

“That’s good to hear.”

“Don’t sound so relieved.”

A small smile.

“Just pick a dress, darling.”

And then she left.

Just like that.

The room felt… different after.

Not quieter. Just… empty in a specific way.

I stared at the closet again.

Then reached for my phone.

⸻

Noah picked up on the third ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

A small pause.

“You sound off.”

“I just spoke to my mother.”

“Ah,” he said. “That explains everything.”

I leaned back against the wall, sliding down just enough to feel grounded.

“I’m going to the auction tonight.”

“With Daniel?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

Short. But there.

“Okay.”

I tilted my head slightly. “You’re really okay with this?”

“I said I was.”

“I know, but—”

“Maria,” he said, softer this time, “I trust you.”

That word again.

It sat differently now.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too.”

Then, like he didn’t want it to get too heavy—

“Just don’t let the billionaire steal you.”

I huffed out a small laugh. “Relax.”

“I mean it.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re technically going on a date.”

“Pretending.”

“Still counts.”

I smiled a little, shaking my head.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.”

“And Maria?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… remember what it is.”

“I will.”

We hung up.

I stayed there for a second, staring at my phone.

It felt like something had shifted.

Not dramatically.

Just enough to notice.

I pushed myself up and finally turned to the closet again.

This time, I picked a dress.

⸻

Daniel’s car arrived exactly when he said it would.

Of course.

When I stepped outside, he was already there, waiting like he hadn’t moved in a while.

Black suit. Black tie. Everything in place.

His gaze moved over me once.

“You look different.”

“That’s polite for ‘this dress is ridiculous.’”

“It isn’t.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That sounded like a compliment.”

“It was an observation.”

“Right.”

He offered his arm.

I looked at it for a second.

Then took it.

“This is still insane,” I muttered.

“Probably.”

⸻

The cameras started the second we stepped out.

Voices layered over each other, sharp and insistent.

“Daniel!”

“Miss Walker!”

“Over here—”

The lights were a lot. Brighter than I expected.

Daniel’s hand settled lightly at my back.

Not heavy. Just… present.

I paused for half a second.

“Relax,” he said quietly.

“Your hand is doing a lot,” I murmured.

“Good.”

We stopped for photos.

He leaned slightly closer.

“Smile.”

“I am smiling.”

“You look like you’re planning something.”

“Maybe I am.”

⸻

Inside, everything shifted.

The noise dropped, but the attention didn’t.

It just changed form.

Quieter. Sharper.

“Is that…?”

“Walker and Rothfield?”

“Interesting.”

That word followed us.

My mother found us almost immediately.

Her expression—God—she looked pleased.

Not even subtle about it.

“Maria, darling, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Her gaze dipped briefly—to his hand, still resting at my back.

Her smile changed.

Wider.

I looked away.

⸻

Later, near the auction tables, a woman approached us.

Older. Familiar with him.

She looked at Daniel and laughed softly.

“Well. I never thought I’d see this.”

Daniel exhaled. “Hello, Aunt Susan.”

“I thought you’d never get over Elena,” she said.

The name just… stayed there for a second.

Daniel didn’t react much.

“People move on.”

She smiled like she didn’t quite believe that, then walked away.

I waited until she was gone.

“Elena?” I asked.

“Someone from a long time ago.”

“That’s vague.”

“It’s intentional.”

I studied him for a second.

“Did something happen?”

A pause.

“My parents think they’re responsible.”

“And you?”

“I agree.”

That was it.

No explanation.

Still—it didn’t feel small.

⸻

Somewhere across the city, Noah sat on his couch, phone in hand.

The photos were already everywhere.

Maria and Daniel arriving together.

His hand at her back.

Her smiling.

The headlines were shifting.

Less question. More assumption.

He stared at the screen for a while.

Didn’t say anything.

Then he locked his phone and set it down.

“Fake dating,” he said quietly.

Still—

The image didn’t leave.

⸻

Back at the auction, Daniel leaned slightly closer.

“You’re doing well.”

“At pretending?”

“Yes.”

I glanced at him.

“For someone who doesn’t believe in relationships, you’re very convincing.”

His hand stayed at my back.

A second longer than before.

“I’ve had practice,” he said.

“Pretending?”

“Yes.”

I looked at him then.

Not just at what he said.

At what he didn’t.

And something about that sat wrong. Not loudly. Just enough to notice.

And for the first time that night, a thought crossed my mind.

If Daniel Rothfield was pretending…

Then what exactly was he hiding.