Emma's P.O.V.
It was 7:30 p.m., and I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The idea of becoming Liam's fake fiancée swirled in my mind like a bad dream I couldn't shake off.
Was I really going to pretend to be engaged to a billionaire embroiled in a scandal?
I guess that's the extent I'd go to protect what I must protect.
The more I thought about it, the clearer it became: I couldn't jump into this blind. I needed to research, to figure out who Liam Black truly was, beyond the flashy headlines and polished public persona. I had to know everything, his past relationships, his reputation, the kind of trouble he always seemed to attract. If I was going to play this role, I had to be prepared for anything.
Dragging myself to the kitchen table, I opened my laptop. Within minutes, my screen filled with articles, gossip blogs, and endless social media posts about him.
Liam Black, the billionaire tech genius, known for his sharp business acumen and equally sharp jawline, always looked camera-ready. But his name seemed to be tied to scandals just as much as success.
There was something about him, though, something magnetic in the way he carried himself. Every photo showed that composed, brooding confidence. It pulled you in, even when you didn't want to be pulled.
One video caught my attention, a press conference from a few weeks back. Liam stood at a podium, reporters shouting questions over one another. Despite the chaos, he commanded the room. His voice was steady, his eyes sharp as he addressed accusations from his ex-girlfriend.
"I will not be defined by someone else's narrative," he said, his jaw set firmly as though daring anyone to challenge him.
The clip ended with the sound of reporters clamoring for more, the tension thick in the room.
Another article was pure gossip, detailing his messy breakup. His ex had leaked personal texts, photos, anything to drag him down. My stomach twisted as I skimmed through the dirty details.
Even a man like him, with all his money and power, couldn't escape the fallout of a broken relationship. The public had eaten it up, turning on him almost overnight.
As I kept reading, it hit me how similar our situations were. He was trying to salvage his reputation, just like I was. Both of us, trapped in the harsh spotlight of public judgment.
I lost track of time until my phone buzzed, breaking my focus. It was a message from Sarah.
Sarah: I just heard from Jason's team. They want to settle out of court. Can we meet?
I stared at the screen. "Out of court" didn't sound ideal, but it was better than a drawn-out trial that could ruin Jason even more. I typed back quickly.
Me: I'll be there in 30 minutes.
---
The meeting took place in one of those stark, no-nonsense conference rooms that made you feel like the walls were closing in. Jason sat at the head of the table, looking like he hadn't slept in days. We hadn't talked much since the trial started, and seeing him now, worn out, barely holding it together, made my chest tighten.
"Emma," he said, relief threading through his voice. "Thanks for coming."
I nodded and took a seat across from him. "What's going on?"
One of the attorneys wasted no time, shuffling papers as if eager to get this over with.
"We need to go over the settlement terms. The prosecution has a solid case. They have witnesses."
Jason ran a hand through his hair, eyes haunted.
"I can't believe this is happening. I didn't do anything wrong!"
"I know," I said softly, though the words felt hollow. "But if they have evidence…"
"We need to be cautious," another lawyer added, his gaze flicking toward Jason.
"The risks of going to trial are significant. You could lose everything."
Jason turned to me, his eyes pleading. "What do you think? Should I settle?"
I hesitated, feeling the weight of his question. Settling could end it quickly, but it would leave a permanent mark.
"It depends on the terms. We need to negotiate to protect you as much as possible"
After what felt like hours of negotiation, we reached a tentative agreement. Jason seemed relieved, but I could feel the weight of it bearing down on us both. This was just the beginning of the damage control.
---
Later that night, I collapsed onto my couch, my mind still racing from the day's events. I should've been focused on Jason's case, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Liam. The decision I was about to make loomed over me, and despite the chaos, a strange sense of anticipation bubbled up whenever I thought about working with him.
Then, as if on cue, my phone buzzed. Liam's name flashed across the screen.
Liam: Can we meet tonight? I've got some ideas on how to move forward.
I glanced at the clock. It was late, and I was exhausted. But something told me this wasn't the kind of message you ignore. I quickly typed a response.
Me: Where?
His reply was almost instant.
Liam: My place. I'll send you the address.
---
The address led me to a penthouse that could only belong to someone like Liam. As I stepped inside, I was struck by how absurdly glamorous it was, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city skyline, sleek furniture arranged with precision. The whole place felt curated, like a work of art
"Emma," Liam's composed voice greeted me from the bar, a drink in his hand. He wore a fitted shirt that accentuated his strong frame, his dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly put together. "Thanks for coming."
"Nice place," I said, trying to sound casual, though the surroundings made me feel slightly out of place. "Is this how you impress all your fake fiancées?"
He smirked faintly, his posture relaxed but not overly familiar. "Just setting the scene. Drink?"
I shook my head. "We're here to talk strategy, not have a cocktail party"
"Fair enough," he said, motioning to the couch. "Have a seat. I've been thinking about how we present ourselves."
I sat down, focusing on his words as he took a seat across from me. His presence filled the room in a quiet but commanding way. "What's the plan?"
"We need a solid backstory," he began, his tone measured and deliberate.
"I was thinking we met at a charity event. Something that feels prestigious but plausible."
I nodded. "And we'll have to fill in the details. People will dig, and we can't afford to slip up."
His eyes met mine with a calculated calmness. "Don't worry. I'm good at controlling the narrative."
I smirked. "Let's hope your storytelling is better than your wardrobe choices. That shirt looks like it belongs in a museum."
A flicker of amusement crossed his face, but he remained composed. "Careful, or I might rethink this whole arrangement."
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression hardening ever so slightly. Without a word, he stood and walked to the balcony, the tension in his shoulders barely noticeable.
Through the glass doors, I heard fragments of his conversation. "No, I don't want to deal with that right now… Handle it." His voice was clipped, but controlled.
When he returned, his face was unreadable. "Apologies. Where were we?"
Before I could answer, a sudden bang echoed through the penthouse, making my heart jump in my chest.
"What was that?" I whispered, my voice shaky.
Liam's expression darkened, his calm demeanor never faltering. He moved toward the window, his body tense with purpose. "Stay here," he commanded, his voice low but firm.
"What's going on?" I pressed, fear creeping in.
"Just stay put," he repeated, his jaw tight as he disappeared out onto the balcony.
I sat there, nerves on edge, when my phone buzzed. A news alert flashed on the screen, and my stomach dropped.
BREAKING: Liam Black Under Investigation After New Allegations Emerge.
As I stared at the headline, a sinking feeling settled in my chest. This wasn't just about a fake engagement anymore. I was caught in something far bigger than I'd ever imagined, and the night was far from over.