Chapter 4:The Fallout
1649 Words
Sophia hasn't blinked her eyes.
The drive home from the gala kept playing in her head like a terror in the night— the champagne, the flashing light of the cameras, and Henry's hands all over her waist like she belonged there. Worst part, his voice is solid, confident, as he had announced to the world she was his fiancée.
By the time she staggered into her apartment, Oliver was fast asleep on the couch with a textbook across his chest. His hair was all over his forehead, and his face dimmed faintly by the lamp. A stab of guilt wrapped around her chest. He didn't deserve any of these lies, the affair, the media storm surely gathering by morning.
She dropped her bag slowly, dragged a blanket over him, and walked into her tiny bedroom.
But sleep never came. She lay awake looking at the cracked ceiling, questions spinning all over her head.
Why me?
What game was Henry Blackwood playing?
And how long before the entire city his supposed “Fiancèe” was nothing more than a struggling nobody in a borrowed uniform?
The next morning, her answer vibrates from Oliver's phone.
“Holy s**t, Sophia!”
She jumped upright from the couch she had dozed off. Oliver was standing in the doorway with his phone in his hand, and his mouth wide open.
“You're on the internet!” he screamed, showing the screen to her.
Sophia's stomach sank. Bold headlines scrolled across a celebrity gossip page:
“Henry Blackwood’s Secret Fiancèe Reavelead!”
Who's this beauty spotted in his arms at the gala?
Dozens of photos followed, her blushed face, his arms around her, the way he looked at her like he knew her all his life.
Sophia sighed, covering her face. “Oh my God. No. No, no, no. This is not happening.”
Oliver was grinning from ear to ear. “You didn't tell me you knew Henry Blackwood! When did this—”
“I don't know him!” she shouted, grabbing the phone away. “This is a mistake.”
“Doesn't seem to me like a mistake,” Oliver said, his face fading into suspicion. “He is obviously holding you, Sophia.”
Sophia's heart broke. How could she even explain this to a fifteen-year-old boy who saw her as his rock? How could she tell him that their lives have been taken over by the richest, and ruthless man in the city?
Before she could answer a knock hit the door. Sharp and commanding.
Sophia froze. Oliver looked at her.
“Who’s it?”
Another knock. This time louder.
She dragged herself to the door, peeped through the door hole then cursed under her breath.
Henry Blackwood.
Oliver's eyes grew wider. “That's him, isn't it? The man from the gala.”
She wiped her palms, then bent to Oliver's level.
“My love, I need you to be brave for me right now.”
“Are you seriously going with him?” Oliver’s voice was strained, with a mixture of fear and anxiety. “Sophie, you don't even know him!”
Sophia took a deep breath. “I don't have a choice Olile. If I refuse, things might get worse for us. You saw the posts and pictures flying everywhere—everyone thinks I'm his fiancèe. I have to play along, till I figure out a way out of this mess.”
“But I don't trust him,” Oliver fired back, “The pictures I saw of both of you he looks at you like—like he owns you.”
She forced a faint smile, rubbing his hair back from his forehead. “Hey, my love he doesn't own me and I promise not to let him hurt you, you hear me? You're all I've got.
Another knock —harder, Impatient.
Sophia stood up. I'll be back. “Lock the door behind me and don't open up to anyone except me.”
Oliver grabbed her hand, “Promise me, Sophie.”
“I promise.” She held his hands tightly, then slipped free.
When she opened the door, Henry filled the frame, tall and stylish in another suit that probably cost more than their entire flat.
“What are you doing here?” She hissed, Henry looked partially composed as though last night hadn't happened at all.
“Good morning to you too, fiancèe,” he spoke slowly
Sophia’s face hardened. “Don't call me that.”
“That's what everyone is calling you,” Henry replied softly, his eyes glittering like steel.
“And of course do you want me to go inside and introduce myself to your brother, I think you should reconsider fighting me outside.”
Her stomach plummeted. He knew about Oliver?
“Leave my brother out of your drama,” she said, lowering her voice.
“Then get in the car.”
She gave a confused look. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t repeat myself.”
His calm insolence made her feel so much anger. She wanted to slam the door in his face Instead, she crossed her arms.
“Why should I?”
Henry leaned closer, his fragrance faint but really expensive. His voice dropped, quiet enough only she could hear.
“Because the longer you stand here arguing with me, the more likely it is that your neighbors start wondering why Henry Blackwood is at your door. And trust me, Loren, they'll sell that story faster than you can ever imagine.
Her pulse surged, He was right. Damn him.
“Fine. But only because I don't want Oliver dragged into this rubbish.”
“Of course,” Henry said, stepping by like he already won. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
The car door shut behind her, and she sat looking out the window as the city blurred past.
Finally, she couldn't pretend anymore. “You had no right.”
Henry raised a brow, “To what? Do you mean saving you from humiliation?”
“Humiliation? You called me your fiancèe in front of everybody yesterday! I work weird jobs just to keep my brother in school, Mr Blackwood. Now guess what my face is literally everywhere!”
He turned to her unconcerned. “Which is exactly why I chose you.”
Her head lost it. “Choose me?”
“You're not some girl chasing headlines; Henry said. “You don't care about the publicity. That makes you valuable”
“Valuable?” she repeated, her voice shaky in anger. “I'm not some property you can wheel out for your business games.”
“You already are sweetheart,” he smiled softly.
“She gazed at him, heat burning through her cheeks. “You are so pathetic.”
“And you're so loud,” he fired back. Do you always fight with everyone who lends a helping hand to you or am I special?”
“Help me?” she sneered. “Last night you ruined my life and my job. My boss is probably going to fire me and,—”
“I’ll pay you triple whatever they would've,”
Henry said coolly. “Only if you manage to stop staring at me for more than ten seconds.”
Sophia's mouth fell open. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“Absolutely,” Henry said, “I hear you too, by the way. You're just too proud and stubborn to admit this arrangement benefits you.”
“Her heart skipped a beat. “Benefits me? You are kidding right? You dragged me into a lie that could ruin my entire life!”
“And yet,” you're still here,” Henry muttered.
She turned her eyes back to the window. “I'm here cause you blackmailed me.”
“Henry leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms. “Well if that helps you sleep at night.”
She tightened her hand into fists. God, he was so insulting.
The car pulled into the Blackwood Tower, his corporate headquarters shining against the sky.
Sophia's throat went dry. “What are we doing here?”
Henry's voice was relaxed. “You'll be meeting Elena.”
“Elena?”
“ My assistant. “She would be making sure you don't humiliate yourself at tonight's dinner.”
Sophia sharply turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“Table manners, posture, and conversation topics, things my fiancèe should know about me.”
Her fury was evident. “I never agreed to be your fiancée.”
“Funny. The rest of the world seems already convinced.”
She wanted to scream her lungs out. Instead, she pushed the door open and climbed out.
He followed, his steps easily commanding. “Loren,” he called, his tone irritably calm.
She turned around. “What?”
Henry’s eyes held hers, cool but with something wavering behind them. Something gentle, hidden.
“Try not to stumble over your words in front of Elena,” he said, “She doesn’t tolerate clowns.”
“Did you just—I mean did you just call me a clown?”
“I said try not to act like one.” His lips curved, the smallest hint of excitement. “With you, I suppose that’s a challenging task.”
Her cheeks burned.
“To be honest you’re so cocky—“
“Careful,” Henry said, stepping closer, his voice sinking low. “Keep staring at me like that and someone might think you actually care.”
Sophia was left breathless. For one horrifying second, she couldn’t move. His eyes into hers were sharp and the smile yanking at his mouth made her want to slap him—or kiss him.
She turned her eyes away, heart pounding. “You’re unbearable.”
Henry straightened, calm as ever. “And yet, you’re still here.”
- Writer
