All Chapters of Pretend to Be Mine: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The Harrington limousine slid to a stop outside the Vance Foundation’s ballroom, cameras already flashing like lightning. My hand trembled on my clutch as I stared at the towering building ahead—a cathedral of wealth and malice wrapped in gold. Every banner carried Clara’s name. Every reporter here knew tonight wasn’t about charity—it was about blood.Adrian stepped out first, sharp in his black tuxedo, his presence cutting through the chaos like a weapon. When he extended a hand for me, the world seemed to hold its breath.I placed my fingers in his. Cameras exploded. Voices rose like a storm.“Adrian, are you still with her after the scandal?”“Elena, are you using him for money?”“Will you respond to Clara’s accusations tonight?”Adrian’s arm settled firmly around my waist as he guided me forward. “Smile,” he murmured, his voice steady steel.So I smiled—not for them, not even for him, but for myself. If Clara wanted to humiliate me tonight, I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of

The storm wouldn’t stop.Everywhere I turned—TVs, phones, whispered conversations—the world debated my existence. Was I a survivor or a manipulator? Brave or shameless? The internet had turned my life into a chessboard, and every move I made became another headline.By the third day, I couldn’t breathe.My world had shrunk into flashing screens and venomous words.Liar. Gold digger. Manipulator.Each label dug under my skin like glass splinters. I deleted my social accounts, but it didn’t matter—the noise lived inside me now.At night, I scrolled through old photos of myself—before Adrian, before Clara, before the world knew my name. I didn’t recognize the girl smiling at the camera. That girl had light in her eyes, hope in her heart. I didn’t know where she’d gone.Now, even my reflection felt like a stranger’s—a shadow wearing my face.I escaped to the gardens behind Adrian’s estate, hoping the roses and fountains would quiet the noise. But the whispers followed me anyway, echoing i

The penthouse felt different that night.Not like a fortress. Not like a cage.It felt like a battlefield waiting for orders.I sat at the long mahogany table, my hands wrapped around a mug that had long gone cold. Maya curled up on the couch nearby under the watchful eyes of Adrian’s security team. For the first time, Adrian didn’t pace in silence or hide behind his usual steel composure. He sat across from me—jacket discarded, sleeves rolled, determination radiating from every inch of him.The silence hummed with nerves. Every tick of the clock made my heart stutter. The guards near the door exchanged quiet glances, their weapons glinting under the pendant lights. It felt surreal—like I’d stepped into someone else’s life, one made of whispers and danger instead of laughter and peace.Maya hugged a pillow tighter, her voice small but steady. “They really think she’ll come after us again?”“She won’t stop,” I said softly. “Not until she thinks she’s won.”The words came out steady but

The limousine hummed quietly as it wove through the city. Outside, screens still flashed my face — mine and Adrian’s — looping footage from the press conference.I sat rigid, clutching Maya’s hand like an anchor. The roar of cameras still echoed in my ears. Even safe behind tinted glass, I felt exposed, like the world could still see every tremor in my chest.The flashes played again and again in my mind — reporters shouting my name, microphones shoved in my face, Clara smiling like she’d already won. My palms still smelled faintly of the perfume I’d spilled in panic before stepping onstage. Every inhale brought it back — the chaos, the heat, the way my heart had thudded against my ribs like it wanted to escape.And for a fleeting moment, I wondered what the audience had seen. A confident woman standing beside her billionaire boyfriend? Or a girl desperately trying to hold herself together in front of a world that loved to watch people fall?Adrian sat opposite me, unreadable in the d

The world was loud, but our home was quiet.For the first time in weeks, the penthouse wasn’t buzzing with phone calls, security briefings, or Marcus pacing with sarcastic commentary. The news outside was relentless—headlines of Clara’s arrest, her empire collapsing—but inside these walls, there was peace.I sat on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, the city glittering below me like a living galaxy. The night had that fragile stillness that only comes after storms—the kind of silence that hums with leftover electricity. The air smelled faintly of rain and smoke from the streets below, as if the city itself was finally exhaling after holding its breath too long.Inside, there were traces of the chaos we’d survived—folders stacked on counters, muted news alerts blinking red, half-empty coffee cups. But for once, none of it mattered.Maya was asleep in her room, safe and smiling again. For the first time in a long time, I could breathe without fear.Adrian appeared behind me, two mugs of