Pretending to Be a Heiress

Chapter 9: Dangerous Proximity

If Emma had learned anything from her disastrous last relationship, it was caution and cunning.

Maybe Lily had been right about her—stupid and naive, too willing to believe that people treated love with sincerity.

She used to believe, "Love starts for a reason, and it ends for a reason, but at the end of the day, everything is true to the heart."

But after being betrayed, she had forced herself to act like it didn't matter, though deep down, she knew she'd changed.

After the heated conversation and intense kiss, their little boat drifted downstream. Alexander called for a driver to take them back to the estate.

The driver, as if pre-programmed, remained expressionless at their strange state, greeting them with a polite nod, opening the door, and starting the car—all without a word.

Once inside, Alexander raised the divider between the front and back seats. He took Emma's soft hand, rubbing it gently in his own.

"Emma, no matter why you chose this path, don't rely on luck. You need to work for more." Alexander turned his head slightly to look at her.

"My job is exactly that, helping you blend in as quickly as possible."

"And how are you any different from them?" Emma's expression was cold. She couldn't hear any difference.

"They don't care if you have a future. I do."

Emma let out a small, mocking laugh, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Wow, makes me feel like a disposable luxury item. Guess when you're rich, you can just play around however you like." Her voice was sharp, cutting right through his carefully crafted facade.

Alexander, unexpectedly, found her amusing tonight. His hand trembled with laughter as he held hers. "Don't joke around, baby. I don't have much time."

"What, you're like a Romeo sneaking out to meet me?"

"I'm serious." Alexander ran his free hand through his damp hair. "Most of the time—like when other people are around—I have to be someone else. I can't show you any special treatment. You'll just be my task."

Emma felt a surge of bitter irony. Wasn't this the classic prince-and-commoner story? The prince sneaks out, hiding from his servants to pursue the poor girl. Should she just close her eyes, play the obedient, naive role, and fulfill this ridiculous fairy tale? But no, she couldn't laugh—because deep down, she knew it was all part of the lie.

"Emma, your expression is giving you away. You don't believe me." Alexander sighed, a bit frustrated.

"Of course I don't. I'm 22."

"It's complicated. This ties into the family’s inheritance competition system," he explained briefly. "Knowing too much right now isn't good for you, but overall, yes. It's safer for others to think you're just my task."

Emma turned her head, studying Alexander. He looked so sincere, so genuine. But really, what had he actually told her? Nothing useful. "So, when you said you need me—what do you need me for?"

"I need you by my side. You'll be my anchor, Emma." His words were sweet but vague, so vague they offered her no real comfort.

Emma’s heart remained cold, her thoughts adrift in the chilly wind, with nowhere to land. She tried to analyze Alexander’s motives. Despite his seemingly flawless sincerity, her instincts screamed that this wasn't as simple as he was making it out to be. She didn’t believe in love at first sight, especially not from a man this complex and secretive.

"All you need to know is that I’ll increase your value as much as possible. You just have to try too." He pulled her into his chest, holding her close. "Don't get caught up in these fake illusions. See the truth. My war isn't one you can fight."

"So, I don’t need to do anything for you." Alexander summed it up. "You just need to understand what control really means."

***

When they got out of the car at the estate, Alexander, as promised, had put back on his mask of distance. His face turned cold once more.

By coincidence, they bumped into Oliver, dressed to the nines and clearly on his way out. This time, Oliver’s face was all dramatic flair.

"Ohhh—wow, is this a scene from some damsel-in-distress movie? Look at the prince! What happened?" Oliver circled them, his voice full of fake concern.

"Fell in the river," Emma said, irritated. Why wasn't this day over yet? All she wanted was to go back to her room, clear her head, and avoid Alexander's handsome face and intense eyes.

"Out with friends?" Alexander didn’t bother explaining. He simply waved Oliver off. "Have fun."

Alexander gave Emma some advice before she left. "Be careful next time, and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

Emma nodded absentmindedly, leaving the two men behind as she headed upstairs.

Alexander watched her disappear at the top of the stairs, then turned to Oliver, whose eyes darted around. He paused for a moment, said nothing, and walked in the opposite direction.

Oliver tossed his car keys in the air, walked a few steps, then pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Evangeline, ah, don’t hang up yet, it's still early. Of course, I have something to tell you! Guess what I just saw? Your brother Alex..."

Alexander stepped out of the shower, drying his hands carefully. He opened a drawer with a lock and pulled out an ornate notebook. Propping his head on one hand, he casually flipped through the oddly thick notebook. The earlier pages had all been torn out, leaving behind uneven edges. He turned to the only two pages with writing, scanning over a few critical lines.

"...Met the test subject, Emma Carter. She seems reckless, naive, and not an easy point for competition.

I had a small spat with Evangeline’s group. Proud of her rowing team days...

...Doesn’t agree with the family’s ‘return’ system. Needs a suitable ‘background family’

...The blue chiffon dress was alright."

Alexander let out a soft laugh, ripping out the pages and tossing them into a nearby ashtray. Using the cigarette lighter, he set the paper on fire. He watched as they burned to ash. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, he lit one with the remaining flame and took a slow drag. He picked up a pen and began writing in the notebook again.

"he’s beautiful, and her lips... sweet, addictive." He paused, took another puff, and stared into the distance for a moment before tearing the page out and rewriting it.

“Yes, she’s beautiful. I took her out to the Hudson River to talk. The family plans to let her know just enough so she can grow from it. I can be her guide as the family wants, and still keep her safe. No need to treat her as disposable, right?

...I can make this work

Assign Jonathan Westwood as her ‘father.’ He left behind a son before he died. Their backgrounds fit perfectly.

...And while I’m at it, let's hope there’s no drama during the party.”

Finishing his note, Alexander closed the notebook and locked it back in the drawer. Then, he sat quietly, finishing his cigarette. As the smoke swirled around him, his face became increasingly obscured, fading in and out of the haze...