Chapter 9
1038 Words
Hearts on the Line
Mariah stared at the invitation again, her eyes trailing over the embossed gold letters: Clarisse Devereux invites you to an exclusive gala celebrating the launch of Devereux Global’s new creative division. It wasn’t just a social event. It was a declaration of war.
“I can’t believe she sent this to both of us,” Mariah muttered, tossing the card onto the coffee table like it had burned her fingers.
Sebastian sat across from her, hands clasped, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable. “She knows what she’s doing.”
“You think this is about the company?” she asked, crossing her arms.
He hesitated. “It’s about control. She hates not having it.”
Mariah raised an eyebrow. “So we go. We show up. Together.”
Sebastian looked up. “You sure about that?”
“No,” she admitted. “But I’m done hiding from things that scare me. Especially women with too much perfume and a God complex.”
He smiled, briefly, like he was proud of her.
---
The night of the gala arrived like a velvet storm.
Mariah wore a midnight-blue dress that clung to her curves and shimmered like the ocean at dusk. Her heels clicked with purpose as they entered the ballroom, hand-in-hand, faces calm but alert.
The space glittered—crystal chandeliers, a quartet playing softly in the background, and guests dressed like royalty. Clarisse stood at the center like a spider in her web, champagne in one hand, venom in her smile.
“Darling,” she cooed as they approached. “You both look radiant. The pictures won’t do you justice.”
Mariah didn’t blink. “Clarisse. I see you still own every mirror in the room.”
Sebastian coughed to cover a laugh.
Clarisse’s smile didn’t waver. “Ah, wit. Always charming in small doses. Enjoy the party. It’s going to be... unforgettable.”
And with that, she drifted away.
Mariah turned to Sebastian. “How many people here do you trust?”
“Counting you?” he asked. “One.”
They didn’t stay long. The whispers began after the second glass of champagne, speculation blooming like smoke: Was the engagement a publicity stunt? Had Sebastian chosen Mariah out of revenge? Was Clarisse staging a comeback?
Mariah had heard it all before, but that night, it hit differently. Because this time, she cared.
---
Back in the car, Mariah stared out the window, fingers fiddling with her bracelet.
“She thinks she can make us doubt each other,” she said quietly.
“She’s wrong,” Sebastian replied.
“I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
He reached over and took her hand. “What do you need from me, Mariah?”
The question surprised her. No man had ever asked that before. Not her father. Not her exes. Not even the ones who claimed they loved her.
“I need...” She hesitated. “I need you to not treat me like I’m a temporary thing. Like I’m just another chapter in your life.”
“You’re not,” he said without hesitation. “You’re the plot twist.”
She smiled, despite herself. “That’s dangerously close to romantic.”
“I’m dangerously close to completely falling for you,” he said, then paused. “Actually... I think I already have.”
The silence that followed was loud enough to echo.
Mariah turned to face him, heart thundering in her chest. “Say it again.”
“I’m in love with you.”
She exhaled, shaky and vulnerable. “I’m not used to hearing that from someone who means it.”
“I mean it.”
“I’m not easy to love.”
“I know. That’s what makes it real.”
She leaned in and kissed him—not because the world demanded it, not because of cameras or contracts—but because her heart finally gave in.
---
The days that followed were the most peaceful she’d known in months.
They stayed in, laughed at dumb movies, made pancakes at midnight, and started to dream out loud. Not about wedding colors or guest lists, but about building something together—real, flawed, and entirely their own.
But peace doesn’t last forever.
It was Clarisse, again.
This time, she leaked an old video from years ago—one of Sebastian at a drunken party, saying things he didn’t remember, laughing with the wrong people. The media swarmed. Investors pulled back. The company stock dipped.
Sebastian was furious. “I barely even remember that night.”
Mariah stood firm beside him. “We’ll handle this.”
He looked at her, surprised. “You’re not... embarrassed?”
“Everyone has a past,” she said. “The only thing that matters is what you do now.”
He kissed her temple. “I don’t deserve you.”
“I’m not a reward, Sebastian. I’m a choice.”
And she chose him. Again and again.
---
But the pressure mounted.
Her father called again, this time with a cold ultimatum: “End the engagement. You’re dragging our name through scandal.”
Mariah didn’t flinch. “No. I’m choosing a life that’s mine, not one that fits your PR goals.”
“This is about more than just love, Mariah.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s about freedom.”
She hung up before he could respond.
Later that night, she found Sebastian sitting on the rooftop, eyes tired.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “Just tired of fighting.”
She sat beside him. “Then let’s stop fighting for approval. Let’s start fighting for ourselves.”
He looked at her, his gaze soft. “Do you want to leave all of this behind? The companies, the legacy?”
She thought about it. About the quiet house in the countryside they’d once joked about. About a simpler life without the noise.
“No,” she said. “I just want to stop pretending we can’t have both.”
And in that moment, they made a silent vow—not to be perfect, not to avoid the hard parts, but to build something that could withstand them.
- Writer
