All Chapters of BILLIONAIRE'S FAKE FIANCÉE : Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

PaigeThe first time I broke my promise, it wasn’t with words, It was with silence.The hospital room smells like antiseptic and grief, sharp enough to burn my lungs every time I breathe. Machines beep softly around us, indifferent to the fact that the woman lying in the bed is dying. That her hand is slipping from mine, cold and weak, her skin almost translucent beneath the thin white sheet.Lila looks nothing like herself.Her cheeks are hollow, her lips pale, dark circles shadowing eyes that were once always laughing, always alive. Tubes run into her arms. A monitor counts down something I don’t want to name, time, life, her. I grip her hand tighter, terrified that if I loosen my hold even for a second, she will disappear before I’m ready, before I can be ready.“Paige,” she whispers.Her voice is barely there, fragile like glass stretched too thin. I lean closer immediately, my heart hammering so hard it hurts.“I’m here,” I say quickly. “I’m right here Lila.”Her lips curve int

PaigeThe contract is heavier than it should be.Not in weight, there are barely a dozen pages but in meaning. In consequence. In the quiet way my entire future seems to be pressed between two thin sheets of paper.My name is printed neatly at the top of the first page.Paige Harper.Seeing it there makes my stomach twist. It looks too official. Too final. Like a gravestone inscription waiting to be filled.I swallow and force myself to read.At first, it’s exactly what I expect. Legal language. Dense paragraphs. Words like mutual agreement, public representation, duration. My heart pounds, but I manage to breathe through it.This is supposed to be fake, controlled, temporary.Then I turn the page.Clause 4.2: ResidencyMy eyes skim the words once, twice then slow as understanding crashes into me.Ms. Harper will relocate to Mr. De Luca’s primary residence within twenty four (24) hours of signing this agreement. I stop breathing when I see it, relocate. Not visits. Not appearances. Mo

DanteI watched her from across the penthouse, seated stiffly on the edge of the bed.She didn’t realize I was watching. Of course she didn’t. That was the nature of control: the subject must act naturally while you study every gesture, every twitch, every breath. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her cardigan, eyes darting to the far wall, the windows, the crib that hadn’t yet arrived. She believed herself alone in that room. She was wrong.She had signed the contract. She had agreed to move into my life, into my space, into my rules. And yet, she still carried the tension of a cornered animal. I could see it in the way her shoulders rose with each shallow breath, the way her lips parted slightly as though searching for words that didn’t exist.She was perfect for this role, but she was also terrible for this role.I allowed a faint smile just the ghost of one to brush my lips. Not for her, not for anyone. I allowed it because it was the first acknowledgment of an inconvenient t