Chapter 3: The Billionaire's Mark
1487 Words
The Next Day...
Mom:
"I am counting down the seconds to meet your new fiancé, darling!!"
Aunt Carol:
"Oh my god!!! Clara mentioned he is an absolute KNOCKOUT."
Clara:
"Yaaaay! Words cannot express how thrilled I am for you, Hazel!"
I scoffed at the last pair of notifications lighting up the family thread.
Clara had absolutely no clue what Axel actually looked like in reality—aside from the fact that she was currently aggressively analyzing his digital footprint across the web.
Exactly like her soon-to-be groom.
The intense clattering of mechanical keys echoed through our design firm. Outside lines rang simultaneously across the floor. The heavy aroma of dark roast espresso and fresh blueprint toner hung thick in the air.
I remained at my drafting desk, desperately mimicking productivity while my phone continuously pulsed against the mahogany surface. If this distraction didn't stop, my hyper-critical director, Victoria Vance, wouldn't think twice about pulling my contract.
Yet another alert vibrated. Several junior designers nearby flashed me an annoyed look, which forced me to flip the screen flat onto the wood.
The rumors back home had officially spread like wildfire...
'Hazel Sterling was returning to the family circle with a partner. For only the second time in her life.'
Except this time, he was her fiancé. She was arriving with Axel Blackwell.
My ex was walking down the aisle and a momentary panic had trapped me in the grandest deception of my life. There was no backing out now.
A firm rap sounded against my glass partition.
I raised my head.
Our administrative intern stood there, carefully balancing a striking, matte-finished carbon display box that looked incredibly dense. It was the absolute definition of an object that whispered, *generational fortunes rest inside.*
Though honestly, modern military contraband was typically shipped in sleek cases like this, too.
"Special delivery dropped off for you," the intern whispered.
I eyed the container. "Is there something ticking in there?"
The intern gave a small shrug. "If it is, it's ticking with an elite serial number."
I inspected the dark case with extreme caution. "Does it indicate the sender?"
The intern simply shrugged a second time.
The neighboring team members started whispering to each other, tilting their heads to catch a glimpse of the luxury package sitting on my desk.
"Awesome. Thank you."
The container wasn't quite as heavy as its appearance suggested when I quickly grabbed it and searched for a vacant supply room to secure myself in. I placed the case down on an empty layout table and unsealed the security strip, hunting for an attached card.
Inside sat a custom, flawless emerald-cut diamond ring. The kind of rock that wrapped around your skin like a permanent assertion of absolute power.
This wasn't some basic retail jewelry. This was THE ring.
A breathtaking, platinum-set, high-clarity masterpiece with an brilliant center jewel that declared the wearer's arrival without uttering a single word.
Wow.
Directly beneath the velvet mount sat the short message I had been looking for, penned in sharp, fluid brushstrokes of black ink that carried a trace of high-end cologne.
"Figured if we are going to sell this narrative to high society, you need to look like heartbreak personified. No need to liquidate your vehicle for a ring... - A."
My fingers shook as I processed the handwritten note three separate times. Then, I dialed his private line.
He answered before the second buzz. "Did the package arrive safely?"
My voice emerged completely tight. "Axel... This rock looks like it belongs under heavy museum security. Not at a ski lodge in Aspen."
"Precisely."
"I honestly didn't think you were paying attention to my breakdown last night."
"I am always paying attention to you, Hazel."
I swallowed hard, anchoring my eyes to the shimmering stone. "What did this actually cost you?"
"Sufficient to completely destabilize your stepsister's mental peace."
I went dead silent for a second, and then an unprompted laugh broke right past my lips. "You are utterly unhinged," I breathed.
"You are very welcome," he answered smoothly. "You aren't entering that estate looking like a pathetic warning sign for exes. You are walking in like a historical event."
My pulse thudded violently against my ribcage. "I could literally kiss you right now."
"You will have to," Axel noted, his tone completely level, stable, and deep. "Right in front of your entire family tree. Constantly."
"Oh, God... it sounds infinitely more terrifying when you verbalize it like that," I whimpered, resting my head against the supply door.
"And right under your ex-fiancé's nose, too," Axel supplemented.
"Now that part, I am genuinely eager for," I chuckled. "He is still trying to get in touch with you?"
"Inexplicably, yes. I get the distinct impression he suspects this is a complete charade, or that one of us is merely exploiting the other."
"What?"
"The guy insists he understands you... on a much more intimate level," Axel muttered, his underlying tone shifting slightly.
"What is he implying by that?"
"He claims to be overjoyed for our future, but then he goes out of his way to tell me you used to swear you'd never get involved with a corporate finance executive because they lack 'soul.' What is the backstory there?"
My palms turned to instant frost. "And how did you respond to that?"
"Me? I simply inquired about how much his psychiatric bills cost per hour."
I erupted into a fit of laughter right there in the dark supply closet. "I can vividly visualize his furious expression."
"You know, you really could have named Mark from the design group? Or Ethan from accounting..." Axel proposed with a laugh. "The more anonymous the suitor, the simpler this would be."
"They are both my literal exes, Axel. Every single person in that wretched family chat knows the exact dates I severed ties with them. Furthermore, Ethan only hung around long enough to serve a very temporary function."
"Gross... please erase that from my memory."
I could instantly imagine Axel crinkling his nose in absolute revulsion on the other end of the connection.
"Where are you currently located anyway? You aren't sitting at your desk, are you?"
"Nope. Seeing as my executive vacation window was revoked two hours after it was approved, I am stretching what liberty I have left before I am pulled into the Westbrook family circus."
I cringed. "I am truly sorry."
He effortlessly brushed off the apology. "Amusement is where you find it, love. I'll make sure Aspen is entertaining."
"I seriously doubt that."
"Baby," Axel murmured, his pitch transitioning into something incredibly rich, intimate, and low, "I am about to play the most convincing fake partner you've ever encountered."
"I am counting down the minutes."
"Well, I have to step out, there is a stunning blonde throwing signals my way from across this lounge. I am about to get lucky... I will ping you later, love!" he said rapidly right before the line cut out.
Classic Axel.
I held up the massive rock against my hand in front of the full-length showroom glass and captured a crisp, high-resolution photo. I drafted a swift, casual text string to pair with the image before firing it straight to the stepsister from hell.
"Hey Clara, just verifying—this diamond matches the exact clarity profile you wanted for the winter backdrop, right? I know how meticulous you get about the visual layout."
I tapped send and let out a slow breath as the three animated dots danced across my screen.
Suddenly... they vanished.
A small microphone graphic materialized in their place.
*Voicenote incoming...*
I stalled for an entire hour, staring at the screen with mounting anxiety, before finally hitting the play icon. Absolutely nothing positive ever results from Clara sending an audio file.
"Hazel, I feel like that rock is a bit too loud. It gives off the impression that you're... desperately begging for attention? You're going to look like you're trying to completely outshine me at my own wedding, sister. Not that such a thing is even remotely achievable, but still... I just had to offer my honest opinion. That mount is far too... dramatic. I didn't realize it would be this over-the-top when I pictured your guest. But I'll accept responsibility for that. And honestly, sis, that piece looks way too expensive for your career by the way. And what's with that aggressive cut? Will your gentle pride hold up if your vertigo sends you tumbling face-first into a snowdrift? Well, you're one resilient old bird, Hazel. How did you even talk him into purchasing that for you? Whatever. I don't care to know the messy background details. Got to run! Love you, sis!"
My hands shook with a violent intensity. My breathing shifted into sharp, chaotic gasps.
How dare that little snake.
Oh, Clara, this isn't a family gathering anymore. This is a scorched-earth campaign.
And may the best groom survive.
- Writer
