Mistletoe Miracle

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

On Thursday evening, Serenity met with Giselle once more for a final fitting of the dress she was to wear to the gala on Friday night. The silence of the penthouse styling studio was clinical, a stark contrast to the storm raging in Serenity’s mind. She stood on the pedestal in front of the full-body mirror while Giselle tailored the garment, satisfied that Serenity’s figure was the perfect embodiment of an hourglass shape.

“Is the fit not to your liking, Ms. Chase?” Giselle asked, her eyes narrowing as she adjusted the strap to enhance Serenity’s bust without revealing too much. Evan had been very specific: he wanted Serenity to look sophisticated, classy, and sexy.

“The fit is perfect,” Serenity said, her voice sounding hollow even to her own ears. “It’s the occasion that’s getting complicated.”

Complicated was an understatement. The phone call with Leo had stripped away the last of her delusions. Evan Sterling didn’t see her as a stable partner found through a father’s dying wish; he saw her as a high-level imposter, a masterful actress hired to replace someone named Talia Vance. Every kind gesture, every generous dollar, was actually a payment for a cynical services-rendered contract.

He thought she was a professional liar. Fine. If a professional was what he wanted, a professional was what he would get.

Back at her apartment, Serenity pulled up her banking app. The five-figure deposit stared back at her—an amount that could pay for her father’s specialized physical therapy and clear the mounting medical debt that kept him awake at night.

“This isn't a date, Dad,” she whispered to the empty room, her fingers tracing the screen. “It’s a heist. And I’m the lead.”

Friday arrived with a cold, grey drizzle that blurred the Manhattan skyline. A black town car arrived at 5:00 PM, sent by Brandt. Serenity stepped into the vehicle, wearing a deep navy silk dress that Giselle had selected because it emphasized her eyes but remained modest enough for a grandmother’s approval.

When the car pulled up to the Sterling Corp headquarters, the building was a monolith of glass and light. Paparazzi clustered near the entrance, their flashes rhythmic and aggressive. Serenity felt the familiar urge to bolt, the same one she’d felt at the café, but she centered herself by thinking of her father lying in a hospital room.

“Ms. Chase,” a voice boomed.

Evan was waiting at the top of the stairs. He looked devastating in a bespoke tuxedo, the lines of his frame even sharper and precise than they had been in the café. He watched her approach with that same analytical, assessing gaze.

“You look... remarkably authentic,” Evan murmured, stepping forward to take her hand. His touch still sent that dizzying jolt through her, but this time, she met his eyes with a cool, practiced stillness.

“Preparation is the soul of authenticity, Mr. Sterling,” she replied, using his own business-like tone.

Evan’s eyebrow shot up. “Direct. I like it. Have you reviewed the Helios briefing?”

“The $4.2 billion valuation is based on a projected 15% increase in market share once the Helios patents are integrated into Sterling’s power grid,” Serenity said smoothly as they walked toward the ballroom. “And Marcus Thorne is worried about his staff's job security post-merger. We should emphasize the 'long-term stability' of the Sterling legacy when we speak to him.”

Evan actually stopped walking. He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time—or perhaps, as if seeing a high-performance engine he’d just purchased. “The agency outdid itself with you. That was a masterful summary.”

“I’m here to deliver a return on your investment, Evan,” she said, her voice like silk. “Shall we?”

“Let’s go.”

The gala was a sea of high-wattage glare and expensive tailoring. Evan moved through the crowd like a predator, but he kept Serenity tucked firmly at his side.

They were intercepted by a woman who could only be Eleanor Sterling. She was a hawk in silver lace, her eyes sharp enough to cut through the noise of the room.

“Evan,” the matriarch said, her voice a dry rasp. “And this is the girl I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Grandmother, this is Serenity Chase,” Evan said, his posture too perfect, his voice dropping into a tone of practiced warmth. “Serenity, my grandmother, Eleanor.”

Serenity didn't curtsy, but she didn't shrink. She offered a warm, genuine smile—the one she usually reserved for the regulars at the cafe who tipped well and treated her like a human being.

“It’s an honor, Mrs. Sterling,” Serenity said. “Evan has told me so much about your commitment to the family foundation. The work you’ve done with the Metropolitan Literacy Project is... inspiring.”

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “Is it? Most girls his age are more interested in the stock price than the literacy rates.”

“Stock prices provide the means, but literacy provides the legacy,” Serenity countered gently, leaning into the sweet girl next door persona while injecting the Art History Master's sophistication Giselle had suggested. “At least, that’s what my father always taught me. He says the truly stable things are the ones that outlast the market.”

Eleanor looked at Evan, then back at Serenity. For a moment, the room felt small. “A philosopher,” the older woman mused. “Evan, she has a backbone. Don't break it.”

As Eleanor drifted away, Evan let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. “That was... incredible. You handled her better than most of my VPs.”

“Is that part of the 'terms'?” Serenity asked, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Exceeding expectations?”

As the night progressed, the performance became second nature. Serenity discussed renewable energy with Marcus Thorne and laughed at the dry jokes of board members. But every time Evan’s hand touched the small of her back, or he whispered a cue in her ear, she felt the weight of the lie pressing against her chest.

He thought she was an actress. She knew he was a cynical tycoon who had tried to pay for a fake life to satisfy an elderly woman.

During a brief moment of respite near the balcony, Serenity found a man approaching her with a frantic urge and an expression that screamed, ‘I’ve got you.’ Serenity instantly knew that it was Leo, Evan's best friend, who had been trying to piece together the identity of the woman standing in for the actress he had originally hired.

“You must be the 'Replacement,’” the man whispered.

Serenity didn't flinch. “I’m Serenity. And you must be the one who's 'confused'.”

Leo looked around distrustfully. “Look, Evan thinks you're a genius. He thinks the agency sent a 'tactical stroke of genius' to replace Talia. But I checked with the agency, Serenity. They didn't send you. They don't even know who you are.”

Serenity’s heart adopted the tempo of the brass bell from the café. “Then I suppose I’m even better at this than he thought.”

“No, you don't understand,” Leo said, his voice low. “If you aren't with the agency, then you’re just... a girl. A girl he’s paying ten thousand dollars to lie to his family. If he finds out you aren't a 'professional,' he won't see it as a business arrangement anymore. He’ll see it as a personal betrayal.”

Serenity looked across the room. Evan was watching her from the bar, a genuine, startled smile beginning to form on his face as he prepared to walk back to her. He looked like a man who felt more seen, more understood than he had in years.

“He already thinks I’m a masterpiece of deception, Leo,” Serenity whispered, her voice sharp and clear, cutting through the low hum of the gala. She straightened her shoulders, the borrowed cashmere giving her a spine of steel. “Why would I correct him now? Besides, who says that I’m the only one being deceptive?”

Leo’s eyes widened, his confusion deepening into genuine alarm. “What are you talking about?”

“I was supposed to meet a man my father set me up with—a pilgrimage for his peace, not a corporate merger,” she said, her words a bitter echo of the hope she’d carried into The Meridian. “All Evan had to do was tell me he was waiting for a woman named Talia, and I would have walked out right then. But he didn’t mention a name. My father told me to go to the café and meet a man who would be waiting. No name, no description. So, how was I supposed to know Evan wasn’t the right man when he didn't even have the decency to check the name of the woman he was paying for?”

Leo gulped, his frantic energy silenced by the sheer, cold logic of her anger. He had no response to the devastatingly authentic fire in her eyes.

As Evan approached, he handed her a glass of Sancerre, the pale gold liquid shimmering under the ballroom lights. “Ready for the final act? The board wants to meet the woman who thinks literacy is more important than dividends.”

Serenity took the glass, her fingers brushing his. The warmth of his skin, still unexpected, sent that familiar, dizzying jolt up her arm. The two perfectly opposing lies were now so tightly wound that she couldn't tell where the performance ended, and the thrilling, bewilderingly authentic connection began.

“I’m ready, Evan,” she said, her voice thick with a conviction she no longer had to fake. “Let's give them exactly what they paid for.”

“Ev, we need to talk,” Leo said, his voice low and frantic as he reached for Evan’s arm. He was desperate to tell him the truth—that Serenity wasn't the actress from the agency—before this high-stakes arrangement got out of hand.

But to his dismay, Evan rejected the interruption. “Later, buddy. I have work to do,” Evan said, flashing a smile that made Leo’s brows furrow in confusion.

It wasn't the methodical, business-like smile Evan usually showed the world. No, this was one authentic and filled with actual emotions—the kind of “electric and breathtakingly attractive” expression that had only recently begun to break through his cynical armor. Leo’s grip loosened in shock, and Evan easily pulled away, his focus entirely on the woman he believed was his perfect, paid imposter.

Leo watched from a distance, and he noticed the way Evan adjusted his stance to shield Serenity from the crowded room, his touch lingering on her arm with an entirely uncharacteristic gentleness. Usually, Evan was cold, calculated, and clinical with the women in his life—treating them like variables in an equation. But here, he was being a true gentleman. Could he actually have feelings for this girl? Leo wondered, the thought sending a chill of apprehension through him.