CHAPTER 7
894 Words
Ariella woke up to the sound of a thousand notifications.
Her phone vibrated nonstop on her nightstand, lighting up like a Christmas tree.
Groaning, she grabbed it eyes half-open and froze.
#DamianValeFiancée was trending.
Every social media platform.
Every gossip site.
Every digital news outlet.
Her picture her picture sitting beside Damian at last night’s dinner, smiling like she belonged to him.
“Billionaire Damian Vale finally reveals his secret fiancée!”
“Who is Ariella Monteverde? Everything we know about the mystery woman who stole the tycoon’s heart!”
“Sources say they’ve been together for months…”
“Oh. My. God,” she whispered, face draining of color.
This was not just embarrassing it was chaos.
Her phone rang again.
Caller ID: Damian Vale.
She answered, voice shaky. “What the hell did you do?!”
“Good morning to you too,” he said smoothly.
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me! The internet thinks we’re engaged!”
“I noticed,” he said, unbothered. “Congratulations. You’re officially famous.”
“Damian! This isn’t funny! My face is everywhere!”
“And yet,” he replied, calm as ever, “we can use this.”
“USE THIS?! Are you insane?!”
“It stabilizes the investor deal,” he explained. “They trust me more now that I look… settled.”
She gaped. “So you’re just going to lie to the world?!”
He sighed. “Relax, Ariella. We’ll make a statement next week. Just… act natural for a few days.”
“Natural? I’m supposed to act natural when people are calling me Mrs. Vale?!”
There was a pause. Then, his tone softened dangerously low.
“You’d look good with that name, though.”
Her heart stuttered. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re late,” he said. “Coffee. My place. Now.”
Two hours later...
She arrived at Damian’s penthouse modern, minimalist, breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the skyline.
But she didn’t have time to admire it. She marched in, furious.
“You could’ve warned me!” she snapped.
“I didn’t know the press would pick it up that fast,” he said, sipping his coffee. “But since they did, we might as well play along.”
She crossed her arms. “You mean lie some more?”
“It’s called damage control.”
“No, Damian,” she said firmly. “It’s called using people. And I’m not your prop.”
For a second, his face changed a flicker of guilt, or maybe surprise.
He wasn’t used to people talking back.
“You think I enjoy this circus?” he finally said, voice quiet. “Everything I do gets twisted. Every headline, every move. There’s no such thing as privacy when your name is worth billions.”
Ariella blinked. For the first time, she saw a crack in the armor the man behind the control.
“I didn’t ask for this life,” he continued softly. “I just learned how to survive it.”
Something in his voice pulled at her raw, vulnerable, real.
She almost forgot to be angry. Almost.
But then the elevator dinged.
And when the doors opened, everything froze.
“Damian?” a woman’s voice called, elegant and cold.
Blonde hair, designer suit, killer heels Sophia Langford.
The ex.
The one who broke him.
The one he never talked about.
“Oh,” Sophia said sweetly, spotting Ariella. “You must be the… replacement.”
Ariella’s jaw tightened. “And you must be the reason he has trust issues.”
Sophia smirked. “Touché.”
Damian’s expression darkened. “Sophia, what do you want?”
“I came to congratulate you,” she said. “On your engagement. Quite the PR stunt. Almost believable.”
Her words were laced with venom.
Ariella’s heart twisted. PR stunt.
That’s all she was to him, wasn’t she?
A cover story. A convenient lie.
When Sophia finally left, the silence was heavy.
Ariella turned to Damian. “So that’s it, huh? I’m just a good headline to you?”
He looked at her, eyes unreadable. “You’re more than that.”
“Really? Because right now, I feel like a pawn in your billionaire game.”
His jaw clenched. “You think I planned all this? I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”
“Then maybe you should stop treating me like a business deal.”
She grabbed her bag and turned for the door, but before she could leave, he said quietly,
“You make me forget the noise, Ariella. That’s why you scare me.”
Her hand froze on the door handle.
She didn’t look back but she didn’t leave either.
For one long second, they just stood there hearts guarded, words unsaid.
That night, the internet exploded again.
Paparazzi photos surfaced Damian walking beside Ariella, hand on her back, looking like a real couple.
But this time, the headline was different.
“The Billionaire’s Fiancée: Is It All Just a Lie?”
And underneath, a blurry picture of Sophia whispering something to a reporter.
> “If you want to know what Damian’s hiding, meet me tomorrow. Alone.”
Her blood ran cold.
She looked at Damian’s name flashing on her screen at that exact moment — calling her.
And for the first time, she didn’t answer.
- Writer
