I stared at Bianca’s pixelated face on Andrew’s phone screen. She was laughing like my life was a punchline. And behind her, that glittering Green Mansion backdrop—the same venue I helped plan for her 25th birthday—burned like betrayal in high definition.
Andrew slowly lowered the phone, his mouth tight. “She’s out of control.”
I handed the phone back to Andrew with trembling fingers. “They think I did this for attention.”
“They don’t matter,” Andrew said firmly. “This will die down in a week.”
“Bianca will keep feeding it. She’s wanted my place since we were ten. She even used the Green Mansion to humiliate me,” I said under my breath.
Silas was leaning against the wall now, arms crossed, quiet as ever. But when he spoke, the words cut straight through the room. “She didn’t humiliate you, Heleina,” he said. “You let her win.”
Andrew, ever my shield, stepped forward. “Hey, take it easy bud—”
Silas said calmly, not even looking at him. “If she’s going to marry me, she needs to decide whether she’s playing victim… or taking the upper hand.”
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. Not from embarrassment, but from the sharp sting of the truth sitting between us. He didn’t say it with judgment. Not even with malice. Just a blunt fact. Like someone reading your flaws aloud so you’d stop pretending they weren’t there. I looked up, meeting his intent gazes.
“You don’t want to walk into that wedding like a scandal,” Silas said and continued, “You want to walk untouched.”
He was right. My whole life, I played nice, elegant, controlled. But something inside me stirred. I wanted to cut the curse and choose myself this time.
I pulled the hospital blanket tighter around me. “When will the paperwork be ready?”
Silas didn’t blink. “First thing in the morning tomorrow. Prenup, confidentiality, name change options. I’ll have my lawyer send the draft.”
“Good,” I said.
Andrew clenched his jaw. “You’re actually going through with this?”
I turned to him, eyes defiant. “What do you want me to do? Wait for Bianca to throw me under another bus—literally?”
Andrew looked at me, his worry folding into quiet frustration but he didn’t argue.
Silas stepped closer to the bed. “I’ll handle the public angle. Keep your name out of the worst circles. But I need to know something, Heleina.”
I tilted my head. “What?”
“Once we sign this, you have to stick around. Can you handle the consequences?”
His words were stern, but his gaze lingered just a second too long on the bruise at my collarbone.
I didn’t blink when I said, “Yes. Let’s do this together, Mr. Provetsky.”
He watched me for a long beat. Then finally nodded and left.
__________________________________________________
The next morning, my house felt too quiet. Just the echo of my own thoughts bouncing off the walls. Then—three sharp knocks pulled me out of my trance. I opened the door, and there he was again—Silas Provetsky, dressed in slate gray today, hair wind-swept, a leather folder in his hand.
“Good morning,” he said in that flat, deep voice. “You’re awake.”
I didn’t answer right away. I’d barely slept. But I stepped aside, letting him in.
He walked in like he belonged. Eyes scanning the place. “Your interior designer had taste.”
“That’s me,” I said, following him. “She got dumped and redecorated instead.”
“Effective coping mechanism,” he muttered. Then held out the folder. “The prenup.”
I took it, flipping through. Clean terms. Asset separation. Confidentiality clause. Joint appearances for press. No romantic expectations. Just signatures and privacy.
“Clear enough?” he asked.
“Yes.” I looked up. “Can I buy you lunch?”
His brows lifted, just slightly. “Why?”
“Because I hate looking like the tragic one,” I said, grabbing my coat. “If the city’s already talking about me, they might as well get the next chapter right.”
We ended up in a quiet corner of a high-end restaurant inside Rockwell. Despite everything, it was… almost normal. He didn’t smile, but he asked if my head still hurt. And when I laughed at something the waiter said, he looked up—just briefly—and nodded like the sound surprised him.
Then, as if summoned by every bad decision I’ve ever made, Bianca walked in. She spotted me first. She sauntered over to our table like a woman with a camera crew behind her.
“Well, this is new,” Bianca said, feigning shock and amusement. “You’re out? Didn’t you just survive a car fiasco?”
I ignored her and took a sip of my drink.
She turned to Silas and gave him a once-over, practically licking her lips. “And who’s this? Your latest publicity stunt?”
Silas didn’t flinch. He reached for his coffee calmly, like her presence bored him.
“He’s my fiancé,” I said, voice firm.
Bianca let out a high-pitched laugh. “You’re kidding. You got engaged? Didn’t know bandages came with diamond rings now.”
My jaw clenched. “Leave me alone, Bianca.”
“Oh, no,” she said sweetly. “I’m just getting started, dear cousin.” She turned her eyes on Silas. “You must not know what you’re getting into. Heleina’s idea of love is crashing her own pity party and playing victim until someone feeds her compliments.”
Silas leaned back slowly and then looked her straight in the eye. “She doesn’t need compliments. She needs peace of mind. Something you’re clearly unfamiliar with.”
Bianca blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Silas said, voice like smoke. “She didn’t ask for your opinion. And unless you're on the menu, I suggest you find another table.”
I nearly choked on my iced tea. Bianca’s face went stiff. But before she could come up with another insult—another voice sliced through the air.
“Heleina.”
I turned and saw another nightmare—Dustin. He stood in the middle of the restaurant clad in his wrinkled shirt and a stoic face.
He took a step closer and held my hand. “I saw the posts. The press is blowing everything up.”
“Must be tough dealing with backlash after you cheated in a suit and tie,” I said, pulling my arm away.
Bianca cut in, scoffing. “Heleina, don’t be so overly dramatic—”
“Shut up, Bianca,” Dustin snapped. His voice was quiet, but sharp enough to silence her.
Then, he turned to me. “Can we talk?”
Silas rose from his seat. “She’s eating.”
Dustin ignored him and kept on bugging me. “I want closure, Heleina. Besides, this has nothing to do with him.”
“It does now,” Silas said. Calm. Cold. Dangerous. “She’s my fiancée.”
The word sting like a wine splashed on the wound. People started to notice. Phones were subtly lifted. I swallowed hard, keeping my poise in place.
“Unbelievable. One week out and you’re already marrying him? Who even is this guy?”
“Give me a break, Dustin,” I said. “Whatever you want to say, you’re three betrayals too late.”
He opened his mouth again—and a loud click of a camera went off. Someone had taken a picture. Another. Then two more. Bianca looked around, suddenly panicked.
I took a breath, straightened my spine, and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Come, love. Let’s not ruin our engagement lunch.”
Silas didn’t hesitate. He slid his arm across my back, guiding me away from the table.
But as we stepped out into the crowd, Dustin shouted behind us—
“Heleina, wait—You don’t know who you’re marrying!”
