Faking it with the billionaire

Izzy kicked off her heels the second she stepped into her apartment.

The place was dimly lit, but familiar, her worn-out couch, the leaning stack of books on the coffee table, the scent of lavender and lemon from the candle Sophia had lit. After the flashing cameras, the sea of faces, and Alex's ice-cold grip on her waist, it felt like stepping back into her real self 

But even here, she didn't feel like herself.

"Thank God you're home," Sophia called from the kitchen, a mug of tea in her hands and concern in her eyes. "I kept the TV off. Figured you'd rather not relive it tonight."

Izzy offered a weak smile and flopped onto the couch. "Thanks. I've had enough fake smiles for one lifetime."

Sophia plopped down beside her. "You were good, though. No, seriously, Iz. You were glowing, like an actual billionaire's fiancée."

"I felt like a mannequin," Izzy muttered, reaching for the throw blanket draped over the couch. "Stuffed into someone else's fantasy."

"Well, the dress was a fantasy. Can we talk about that slit?"

Izzy gave a tired laugh. "I almost tripped while walking down the steps. Twice."

"And the diamond?" Sophia leaned in dramatically. "You could signal aircraft with that thing. I practically went blind when you raised your hand."

Izzy glanced at the ring, now sitting silently on the coffee table like it was waiting to accuse her of something. "It doesn't feel like mine."

Sophia's playful smile faded. "That bad, huh?"

Izzy hesitated. "They asked about her. Lila."

Sophia sat up straighter. "Wait. His ex?"

"His late fiancée," Izzy corrected softly. "Someone from the press shouted the question out of nowhere. You should've seen his face, Soph. He went still and then after a moment...he touched me. Like we were something real. Like he had to prove it."

Sophia's brows pinched together. "Was it an act?"

"That's the part I don't know." Izzy picked at a loose thread in the blanket. "He told me not to improvise. To stick to the plan. But after that question, everything changed. It felt like he wasn't pretending anymore. And that scared me more than anything."

They sat in silence for a while. 

Then Sophia asked, gently, "Do you think you're starting to like him?"

Izzy looked away. "I think I'm starting to see the broken version of him and part of me wants to reach in."

"Girl..." Sophia sighed. "This whole thing was supposed to be business. Quick cash, fake appearances. You weren't supposed to catch feelings."

"I haven't," Izzy lied. "It's just... he's not the villain everyone warned me about."

"But he's not a hero either," Sophia said, her voice laced with concern. "Don't romanticize a man who can lie that smoothly. You think he's letting you in, but he's just playing his part better than you are."

Izzy rubbed her temples. "I know. I know you're right."

Sophia reached over and took her hand. "Then promise me something."

"What?"

"When this all starts to hurt too much..,...walk away. No money is worth your sanity."

Before Izzy could answer, her phone buzzed against the armrest.

Unknown Number.

She stood, suddenly uneasy. "I'll take this to my room."

Sophia gave a nod, concern flickering again behind her eyes.

Izzy stepped into the bedroom and closed the door softly behind her. The room was quiet, the buzz of the city distant. Her heart pounded heavily. Her chest.

She answered. "Hello?"

A calm, measured voice with a kind of confidence that came from having nothing to prove.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Ms. Hart."

Izzy stiffened. "Who is this?"

"Vivienne Dane."

The name sent a shiver down her spine. 

"You don't know me," the woman continued, "but you know my sister. Or at least, her memory. Lila Blackwood."

Izzy's heart sank. "I.....I didn't know she had any family," she said.

"That's the problem with grief," Vivienne said smoothly. "People forget the ones left behind."

Izzy's throat tightened. "Why are you calling me?"

"To know you," Vivienne said, almost with amusement. "And to warn you."

Izzy sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. "About what?"

"This arrangement with Alex," Vivienne said. "It might serve you for now, money, status, attention. But it's built on something sacred, on someone sacred. You're dancing in a graveyard, Ms. Hart. Don't mistake the applause for safety."

Izzy closed her eyes. "I didn't ask for this. I'm just trying to survive."

"Then survive somewhere else."

"I signed a contract."

"Then tear it up."

Izzy gritted her teeth. "That's easy for you to say. You weren't drowning in hospital bills."

Vivienne's tone softened. "I'm not heartless. But I am serious. Leave, before this becomes a story you can't rewrite."

"Is that a threat?"

Vivienne let the silence stretch before answering, "It's a favor. If I wanted to threaten you, you'd know."

The call ended with a quiet click.

Izzy stared at the screen. How the hell could she leave when she hasn't even completed her end of the deal? 

Her phone buzzed again.

DAMIEN: Be ready at 7 a.m. Foundation board meeting. Wear navy. No surprises.

Izzy set the phone down in her lap. No surprises? Too late for that.