The silence that followed was palpable. Christian seemed suddenly uneasy, his fingers tapping lightly against the table.
“It was… complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair-that gesture I knew so well.
“He was about to travel. He had a lot to sort out before leaving, his head full of winery matters…”
“Christian,” I cut in, beginning to piece it together.
He turned his gaze to the dark landscape, the vineyards just black silhouettes against the starry sky.
“I mentioned that we had a… disagreement.”
“A disagreement?”
“About the wedding.” His eyes met mine again. “I told him you didn’t want to rush things. That you needed more time.”
“And what did he say?”
“That he understood. That we’d discuss it properly after his return from Valentia.” Christian took a long sip of wine. “He likes you a lot, Zoey. More than anyone else I’ve ever introduced to him.”
A suspicion bloomed inside me, the final piece of a puzzle I hadn’t even realized I’d been trying to solve.
“Christian…” My voice came out almost a whisper. “You didn’t tell your grandfather we broke up, did you?”
Christian looked away, his fingers drumming nervously against the polished wood table. The starlight danced through the wine in his glass, casting reddish reflections across his tense face.
“I’ll tell him when he comes back,” he finally said, his voice low and measured, as though he weighed every word carefully. “He has too much on his mind right now.”
“What do you mean?”
He made a vague gesture with his hand, as if brushing away an uncomfortable thought.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that yes, I intend to tell him. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”
“When is he coming back?”
“Probably on the last day of the event.”
I pushed back from the table harder than I meant to, the wine in my glass trembling and spilling a few drops onto the white tablecloth. A storm of emotions churned inside me.
“So you brought me back to the mansion knowing your grandfather will return in just a few days?” I glared at him, the pieces clicking into place in my mind like some dark puzzle. “How convenient. Almost like you want him to find me here.”
“I offered you a place to stay because you were in a difficult situation. Because you had nowhere to go after sacrificing your job to help me.” He drew a deep breath, as though trying to steady himself. “Not everything has to be part of some grand scheme, Zoey. Sometimes people simply… help each other.”
“Right, because you never manipulate situations for your own benefit,” I shot back, the sarcasm slipping out before I could stop it. “You never use people as pieces in your personal chess game.’
He leaned across the table, his eyes locked on mine, too intense for me to look away.
“Is that what you think of me?” His voice carried a controlled chill now, like thin ice over deep water. “That I’m always manipulating people? Using them?”
“You paid me to fool your grandfather, didn’t you?” I crossed my arms-a gesture that felt more protective than defiant.
“An arrangement that benefitted us both.” His eyes flashed with a mix of hurt and anger, the CEO mask momentarily slipping. “Or have you already forgotten that your father’s debt was resolved?”
“I’ll never forget what you did for us. But that doesn’t mean I can keep being your rented fiancée whenever you need to impress your grandfather or advance your business plans.”
His expression darkened, something raw and wounded flickering across his gaze before he forced it back down.
“That’s not what I was suggesting. And it’s certainly not how I see you.”
“No?” I challenged, my voice trembling, hating how it sounded both fragile and hopeful at the same time. “Then how do you see me, Christian?”
For a moment, we simply stared at each other across the table, the question hanging between us like a taut wire stretched to its breaking point. I saw the conflict in his eyes, the almost imperceptible movement of his lips, as though he was forming words he refused to release. I could almost feel the battle raging inside him-tell me the truth, or retreat behind his walls.
But then the barrier slammed back into place, the moment slipping away like a leaf carried off by the wind. Christian leaned back from the table, visibly pulling himself together.
“It’s late. I think it’s best we continue this conversation another time.”
Disappointment crashed over me like a cold wave. So typical of him-pulling back just when we were close to something real, something true. Retreating to the safety of emotional distance at the first sign of vulnerability.
“Of course,” I murmured, trying to hide how much his retreat stung. “Good night, Christian.”
He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more. But then, with a brief nod, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the corridor until they faded completely, leaving me alone on the balcony with only the wine and my thoughts for company.
Eventually, the night air grew too cold to stay outside. I returned to the guest room, the weight of exhaustion settling over me like a lead cloak. Despite the comfort of the luxurious bed, sleep came slowly, invaded by memories of the past and uncertainties about the future.
The next morning, I woke up with the sun already high in the sky. I had slept longer than I intended, the emotional toll of the previous day taking its price. For a moment, I lay still, staring at the ornate ceiling, feeling the contrast between the luxury surrounding me and the emptiness I carried inside.
Finally, driven by the need to clear things up with Christian before everything grew even more complicated, I got up. I took a quick shower, letting the hot water wash away at least some of the tension weighing on me, and dressed simply. I tied my hair back in a no-nonsense ponytail, determined to at least look in control, even when inside I felt like I was falling apart.
As I descended the stairs, the smell of fresh coffee guided me through the main hall. Voices drifting from the kitchen caught my attention. I immediately recognized Christian’s deep voice, followed by a lighter laugh that could only belong to his cousin, Marcus.
I moved closer quietly, not wanting to interrupt what sounded like an easy conversation. I was just about to announce myself when I heard my name.
“So Zoey warned you about the sabotage? You must really be in love with that girl to bring someone from the competition straight into your house.”
I froze in the hallway, just a few steps from the kitchen entrance, holding my breath without meaning to. My heart pounded faster-not from hearing my name, but from the implication in Marcus’s words. And even more, from what Christian’s response would be.
“Of course not,” Christian’s voice came, hard and distant. Even without seeing him, I could picture his closed-off expression, the impenetrable mask he wore in negotiations. “She’s just… convenient. After all that mess in the media, I need to convince her to keep up appearances until I get what I need.”
Each word was like a small blade. Convenient. Keep up appearances. Get what I need. So that’s all I was to him-a useful piece, a means to an end.
“And after that?” Marcus pressed, his voice carrying a curious, almost mischievous edge.
There was a pause, silence hanging heavy in the air for several endless seconds. Then Christian’s voice again, lower now, more final, “After that, it’s over. It’s not like she’s really the kind of woman for someone in my position. It was a temporary arrangement from the beginning.”
Christian’s words kept pounding in my head as I got ready to leave. “It’s not like she’s really the kind of woman for someone in my position.” Each syllable was a small wound reopening, over and over again.
I dressed carefully-dark jeans, a tailored blazer, and a simple blouse. Not what I would have worn if I were still representing Sunvale, but enough to blend in at the event without drawing attention.
My plan was simple: go to the complex, check if Kensington’s presentation went smoothly, and then leave. No confrontations, no drama. Just the confirmation that my warning about the sabotage had worked.
I took a taxi to the convention center, watching the Highridge Valley landscape roll by through the window. The irony wasn’t lost on me-how such a beautiful place could be the backdrop to so much pain. The driver, sensing my silence, kept quiet for the whole ride.
By the time I arrived, the event was already in full swing. Colorful booths, people circulating with glasses of wine, sommeliers explaining notes and textures… It felt almost surreal to be there now as an anonymous spectator, without a badge, without responsibilities. But the truth was, I didn’t like it. It felt hollow. And I hadn’t even started facing the reality that I was unemployed and might soon have to beg for my old job selling wedding dresses again.
I kept to the shadows, slipping discreetly around the edges of the hall. I spotted Lisa, my former assistant, looking overwhelmed as she tried to coordinate something at the Sunvale booth. A pang tugged at my chest. Guilt, maybe? I hadn’t had the chance to explain to her why I left so abruptly.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.