He Chose the Fake Heiress—While Wearing My $27,800 Watch

My dream was to work in player development and help my boyfriend become the best quarterback he could be—good enough to make it to the NFL. Football was supposed to reward hard work. I didn't want anyone thinking I was only involved because of my father's money. So I never told anyone that my father was worth billions. At 5:20 that morning, the football field was still blanketed in fog. "Ten more." Ryan tilted his chin at me. I ran the route and caught his pass. The impact numbed my arm and split the old callus in my palm open again. Ryan stopped immediately and took the ball from me. "Give me your hand." He cleaned the wound with practiced ease and wrapped fresh tape around it. "Once I'm captain, you won't have to put yourself through this anymore." For 2 years, whenever he'd said, "Come train with me," I'd never refused. At seven, Coach Harris announced that Ryan had been chosen as the new team captain. The players cheered and lifted him into the air. Ryan jumped down and rushed over to pull me into a tight hug. "We did it!" "Evelyn, I wouldn't have made it this far without you." At noon, I gave him the present I'd prepared weeks ago. It was a discontinued Rolex Cosmograph Daytona, reference 116520. The three subdials reminded me of every sprint I'd timed for him over the past 2 years. The case back bore a small engraving: 5:20—KEEP GOING. 5:20 was when every one of our morning practices began. Ryan had no idea what it cost. He thought it was just an old watch. I fastened it around his wrist. "Congratulations, Captain Cole." He ran his thumb over the engraving, then lowered his head and kissed me. That afternoon, the Event Planning Society held a planning meeting for the alumni fundraising gala. I was the project lead. Besides coordinating the event, I was responsible for our paid internship program with Ember Lake Hotel that semester. The Westbridge Hawks had been invited to participate as well. As the team's liaison to the gala, Ryan was supposed to stop by later to confirm the guest list. Before the meeting began, Professor Grant, the Society's faculty adviser, brought in a new transfer student. "My name is Naomi Vale." Surrounded by curious students, the girl smiled with effortless confidence. "Julian Vale is my father." For a moment, I thought I'd misheard. Julian Vale was my father. Naomi said she was willing to provide a venue for the fundraising gala. To prove it, she showed us a photo. In it, my father stood in the kitchen of Seaglass House, holding the blue coffee mug my mother had left behind. It wasn't a photo anyone could have found online. When Naomi lifted her phone, the cuff of her cashmere coat slid back, revealing silver seagull embroidery. My breathing caught. That coat had been custom-made for me by my father the previous year. There was no label on the outside. Only the inside cuff bore a silver seagull, and the inner pocket carried my initials: E.V. It was supposed to be hanging in the private dressing room at Seaglass House. Just then, Ryan entered with the team's guest list. Naomi recognized him at once. "Captain Cole? I've watched your games." She told Ryan that her father sponsored a private showcase for college prospects, where certified agents met players and NFL scouts evaluated invitees. Ryan merely nodded politely at first, but when she said she could get him onto the list, he stopped walking. "On October 18, I'm throwing a party at my family's Cliffside Estate," Naomi announced, handing him an invitation in front of everyone. "My father gave me Seaglass House as a gift when I started college. The showcase director and a certified agent will be there too." The room erupted in cheers. But I remembered perfectly well that Seaglass House had been transferred into my name 6 weeks earlier. After the meeting, I called my father immediately. "Dad, do you have another daughter besides me?" "Of course not." His voice turned serious. "I only have one child. You." He told me that besides me and the property supervisor, only the newly hired resident house manager had a work access card for the estate. I didn't expose Naomi right away. She had private photos and was wearing my clothes. That meant someone inside the estate was helping her. I needed to find out where everything came from and who was behind it. That evening, I brought the gala schedule to the locker room. The door wasn't fully shut, and before I could enter, I heard Ryan's voice. "Evelyn can only help me train." He paused. "Naomi can get me into a showcase in front of NFL scouts." I didn't open the door. Back in my dorm, my 5:20 training reminder popped up right on time. For 2 years, I'd sent Ryan the next day's training plan every night. This time, I wrote nothing. Ryan liked Naomi's party invitation. I read the final line of the invitation: The director of Julian's invitation-only prospect showcase will be in attendance.