All Chapters of The Vows We Fake : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Zane stood near the window, the pale morning light cutting sharp lines across his bare shoulders. His hand hovered over the device for a moment before he finally answered, his voice low and tight. “Sera.” Upon hearing her name, I stilled in my position on the bed. "Zane?” Sera’s voice cracked through the speaker, raw and thick, like she’d been crying for hours. “Please… don’t hang up. I need to explain.” “You already did,” Zane said, his tone sharp but measured, like he was keeping himself on a leash. “You kissed my cousin in my own house.” “It was a mistake,” she rushed out. “Julian was drunk. I was drunk. It meant nothing.” My nails dug into the sheet. Nothing. The memory of their hands on each other flashed in my mind. “You’ve said that before,” Zane replied icily. Her voice spilled from the phone, raw and trembling, every syllable thick with emotion. “Zane, please—” She broke off with a muffled sniff. “I didn’t mean to… kissing Julian, it was—it was a mistake.” I swallowe

I padded barefoot into the living room, the sound of my steps muffled by the thick rug. Zane had stepped into his office after the call with Sera, leaving me alone with the silence. The penthouse wasn’t cold or sterile like I expected. It was… lived in. Subtly. Expensively. Almost too perfectly curated. A low glass coffee table gleamed in the center of the room, holding a single crystal decanter of whiskey. Beside it sat a book with the spine cracked and the pages worn in a way that told me it had been read more than once. I picked it up. It was The Old Man and the Sea. I swallowed. Zane used to read me passages from it late at night, his voice low and smooth, saying Hemingway “cut straight to the bone of things.” Back then, we’d been tangled in blankets on his old couch, the world outside a storm we didn’t have to face. The memory left a sharp ache in my chest. I set the book down and kept moving, fingers brushing over the sleek black counter in the kitchen. The faint smell of c

Five Years Ago… (cont'd) The disdain for me in Zane’s voice was unmistakable. In front of the public, he denounced me and called me a traitor. He may not have mentioned my name, yet it made no difference. And it didn’t matter that I had done it for him. In his eyes, this was the biggest form of betrayal. I grabbed my jacket to take a walk. Anything you distract myself, to forget the press statement that Zane gave the media. I was out for about 30 minutes when I heard sirens of tire trucks and an ambulance… headed towards the house I shared with my dad. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me. By the time I reached the house, flames were licking the night sky. The air was thick with smoke. Neighbors stood on the sidewalk, watching in horror.. “No!” I cried, pushing past spectators. “No! My dad… he’s inside! No!” Someone grabbed me and pulled me back. I fought against them, screaming. Fighting. Kicking. Two burly men came to hold me down. All I could do was scream as I watched our

“Mother.” Zane’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. It was deep and filled with warning. He stood in the doorway, shoulders rigid, eyes locked onto his mother. “What the hell are you doing here?” For a second, Catherine’s mask slipped, but she quickly recovered, straightening her spine. “What am I doing here? I’m protecting you, Zane. From her.” She jabbed a manicured finger toward me, her face twisting with venom. “Can’t you see? She’s ruining everything—” “Do not,” Zane said, his voice low and deadly, “speak to or about Amara like that again.” The silence that followed was deafening. Catherine arched a brow, unbothered. “I’m only telling her the truth.” His jaw clenched. “Leave. Now.” Her mouth opened in shock, but she quickly recovered. “I am your mother. You cannot ask me to-" “I'm not asking. I’m commanding. Leave.”. Her eyes flicked between us, something unreadable flashing across her face, but then she gave a sharp, cold smile. “Careful, Zane. Protecting her wil

I read the note once. Twice. A dozen times until the words blurred into black smudges. My chest tightened as if they had hooked something buried deep inside me, something I had tried to kill these last few days by barricading myself in this room. I shouldn’t even consider it. After everything he’d done, after his mother’s venom still echoing in my ears, I should laugh at his request, rip the paper apart, and shove it under the door just so he knows I am not some lovesick fool waiting to be charmed back into his arms. And yet… my fingers wouldn’t let go of the note. The days I had spent inside this room weighed heavily on me, pressing against my bones. Silence had been both my shield and my prison. I had ignored his knocks, his voice soft and breaking as he called my name, the way he tried to joke through the wood as if we were still capable of laughter. Each note had been an assault on my carefully constructed anger, a reminder that he was relentless, that he wouldn’t simply let me