The Fiance He Never Knew

The Public Lie

Lyra point of view

I woke up in Cassian Vance’s prison.

My room was beautiful, sterile, and huge. The curtains opened automatically to the sunrise, showing the entire, glittering city. It was the best view in New York, and it made me feel sick. I had traded the warmth of my small life for this cold, perfect cage.

The first thing I did was check my ring finger. The diamond was still there, heavy and cold. It was real. This was real.

The second thing I did was check on Leo.

I walked quietly out of my room and down the private stairs. Chloe was awake, drinking coffee in the small kitchen in her suite. She looked tired, but determined.

"He's still asleep," she whispered. "I put the big bookshelf in front of his door, just in case. Lyra, this is crazy. What happens if he wakes up and wanders off? The elevator is right there."

"He won't wander," I said, but my voice was shaky. "He never wakes before eight. And Cassian is on the main floor. We'll keep to this floor until it's time for me to leave. You have to keep him here, Chloe. Always."

"I know. We're a team," she promised.

A polite tap came at the door. Cassian’s assistant, Maria, was standing there. She looked like she was carved from ice—perfectly dressed, perfectly emotionless.

"Ms. Hayes," Maria said. "Mr. Vance requires you to be dressed in forty minutes. Your clothes are laid out."

I nodded and rushed back upstairs.

The clothes were waiting on my bed. Not just an outfit, but a whole new person. A silk dress the color of rich wine. High heels that I knew would kill my feet by noon. The dress was perfect—powerful and feminine. It was the uniform of Cassian Vance's woman.

I put it all on. When I looked in the mirror, I didn't see Lyra Hayes, the worried single mother who drank bad coffee and worked past midnight. I saw the Fiancée.

I took one last, deep breath. Time for the show.

When I walked into the main penthouse living room, Cassian was already waiting. He was ready for war. He wore a dark grey suit that made his shoulders look wider and his eyes look colder. He was on the phone, speaking quietly and sharply about stocks, completely ignoring me.

When he finally hung up, he looked up. His eyes scanned me, slow and critical.

"Acceptable," he said. It wasn't a compliment. It was a rating. "Remember the script. London. Intense. Private. Every reporter wants to know the lie. Don't let them."

"I am an architect, Cassian," I reminded him, meeting his eyes. "I know how to sell a vision. This is just a performance."

"No," he corrected, stepping close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne—something sharp and clean. "This is not a performance, Lyra. This is real life for six months. You will look at me like you love me. You will act like you trust me. You will act like the ring is the most important thing you own."

He didn't give me time to answer. He took my arm and pulled me toward the elevator.

The drive was silent and tense. We were going to a huge, expensive hotel ballroom for the press breakfast.

When the car stopped, the world exploded.

Flashbulbs popped like tiny explosions. Reporters shouted questions I couldn't understand. It was a wall of noise and light, all focused on us.

Cassian didn't slow down. He put his hand on the back of my neck, guiding me out of the car. It was a possessive gesture, perfectly calculated. His fingers were cold, but the pressure was firm. It told the world: She is mine.

I hated the feeling. I hated his control. But I forced a bright, loving smile and leaned into him, just like he wanted.

We walked into the ballroom. It was full of cameras and famous faces. We were the star attraction.

We sat at a table at the front. Cassian kept his hand on my shoulder, a physical chain. A reporter with a microphone immediately rushed up to us.

"Mr. Vance, congratulations! We're all stunned by the sudden engagement. Can you tell us how you managed to keep this incredible romance hidden for six months?"

Cassian leaned into the microphone.

"We value our privacy," he said smoothly, his eyes flashing with a fake warmth. "But when you find something this rare, you don't keep it a secret for long. Lyra is brilliant, passionate, and frankly, I’ve never met anyone more focused on building a future."

He squeezed my shoulder, forcing me to turn to him. I looked into his cold, grey eyes and tried to look like I loved him. It was hard. It was terrifying.

"Lyra," the reporter asked, turning to me. "What was the moment you knew Cassian was the one? Was it the grand gestures, or something quieter?"

My mind raced. London. Six months ago. I had to be quick. I had to be real.

"It was the quiet moments," I said, putting my hand over his on the table—the hand with the diamond. "It wasn't the jets or the hotels. It was when he took a phone call late one night in London, and I saw how much he cared about protecting his people. That's when I realized he was a good man. That was the moment."

It was a total lie. The night in London was the night he paid me to disappear. But the words sounded perfect. They made him look like a hero, not a tyrant.

Cassian stared at me. For one second, his mask slipped. His eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected the answer to be so good, so focused on his supposed character.

He recovered instantly. He took my hand from the table, lifting it up so the ring flashed in the lights. Then he pressed my hand to his lips and gave the ring a light, possessive kiss.

The cameras went wild.

The shock was total. It was a public kiss. It was intimate. It was supposed to show deep, emotional connection.

My face felt hot. My heart was hammered. He was playing the part perfectly, but the intimacy of the moment felt like a violation. I looked at the diamond shining brightly on my finger. This was a lie. This was the cost.

Six months ago, I reminded myself. Only six months.

But when Cassian finally looked at me, his eyes were still cold. He had played the part of the devoted fiancé. I had played the part of the woman in love. And neither of us had won the game. We had just started.

The public performance was a success, but the physical intimacy of that kiss clearly rattled Lyra.

What do you think is the next source of tension?