Family Estate

Drunk and desperate, I claimed I was dating Damian, the richest bachelor in town. He agreed to be my fake boyfriend, but with a catch: move in and pretend for real. Now our fake romance is viral. What could go wrong?

Family Estate

Drunk and desperate, I claimed I was dating Damian, the richest bachelor in town. He agreed to be my fake boyfriend, but with a catch: move in and pretend for real. Now our fake romance is viral. What could go wrong?

The microphone screeched as I grabbed it, wine sloshing over my fingers. "Actually, Damian Vale and I have been dating for months!" Laughter erupted. My boss turned white. I was one second from being fired—until the room went silent. He stood in the doorway: charcoal suit, ice-gray eyes, jaw clenched like he’d tasted something bitter.

Then he smiled. Cold. Perfect. Deadly. "She’s not lying," he said, stepping forward. "I’ve just been keeping her to myself."

Now I’m in his penthouse, still in my ruined dress, staring at the contract on the glass table. "One year," he says. "Live together. Appear in love. No slip-ups."

His phone buzzes—our first paparazzi photo just hit the front page.

This was supposed to save me. So why does it feel like I’ve signed my soul away?