The Orchestrated Lie

Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Stefan’s penthouse suite radiated power and opulence. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a skyline that shimmered like jewels against the night, while every surface gleamed as though untouched by mortal hands. Yet the man himself, sitting on a sleek leather couch with a glass of whiskey in his hand, seemed far removed from the luxury surrounding him. His piercing eyes followed my every move as I paced the room.

"You’re wearing a hole in the floor, Shania," Stefan drawled, taking a sip of his drink.

I stopped abruptly, glaring at him. "This isn’t a joke, Stefan. My sister, my own twin, is out there spreading venom about you—and me."

He smirked, setting his glass down on the table with a sharp clink. "Let her talk. Stephanie thrives on chaos, and I don’t care about the opinions of small minds."

"Maybe you don’t," I snapped. "But I do. And it’s not just her words—it’s the way she said them. She knows something about you, Stefan. Something she thought I should be afraid of."

His smile didn’t falter, but I saw the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers twitched against his glass. "Stephanie knows nothing of consequence. She’s grasping at straws to make you doubt me."

"And why shouldn’t I?" I shot back, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "You’ve been keeping secrets from the moment we met, orchestrating my life like I’m some pawn in your game. How am I supposed to trust you, Stefan? How?"

For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, in a fluid motion, he stood, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. "You want the truth, Shania?"

I swallowed hard, but my voice didn’t waver. "Yes."

He stalked toward me, his blue eyes glinting with something dangerous. When he stopped, we were inches apart, his towering frame forcing me to tilt my head to meet his gaze.

"The truth is, I don’t need your trust," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "I need your loyalty. There’s a difference."

The air crackled between us, heavy with unspoken tension. "That’s not good enough," I whispered, my breath hitching.

His hand moved to my chin, tilting my face upward. "It’s going to have to be. Because I’m not letting you go, Shania. Not now. Not ever."

I tried to pull away, but his grip was firm, though not painful. "And if I don’t want to stay?"

He smirked, his thumb brushing over my jawline. "You will. Because no one else can protect you like I can. Not Adrian. Not anyone."

At the mention of Adrian, my resolve hardened. I shoved his hand away and stepped back, creating space between us. "This isn’t protection, Stefan. This is control."

"Call it whatever you like," he replied coolly, his eyes never leaving mine. "But you’re safer with me than you are out there, dealing with snakes like Stephanie and men like Adrian."

I crossed my arms, my heart pounding. "What are you so afraid of, Stefan? That I might find out who you really are?"

For the first time, his composure cracked. His jaw tightened, and something flickered in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by his usual cold mask.

"You think you know me, Shania?" he said, his voice sharp. "You don’t. And if you did, you’d realize you’re better off staying exactly where you are."

I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. "You’re wrong. I don’t need you to protect me, Stefan. I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?"

His silence was answer enough.

Later that night, I found myself staring out one of the massive windows, the city lights below blurring as tears clouded my vision.

Stephanie’s words echoed in my mind: Men like him don’t forgive mistakes.

What mistakes was she talking about? What did she know about Stefan that I didn’t?

I heard the soft sound of footsteps behind me and knew it was Stefan before he even spoke.

"Can’t sleep?" he asked, his voice softer than it had been earlier.

I didn’t turn around. "Too much on my mind."

There was a pause, and then I felt his presence beside me. He stood close, but not so close that it felt suffocating.

"You don’t have to fight me, Shania," he said quietly. "I’m not your enemy."

"Then stop acting like one," I replied, my voice trembling.

He sighed, and I risked a glance at him. For once, his expression wasn’t cold or calculating. He looked… tired.

"I’m trying, Shania," he said, and for a moment, I believed him.

But then the walls went back up, and he was Stefan the billionaire again—untouchable and unknowable.

"Get some rest," he said, his tone dismissive. "Tomorrow, we’ll deal with Stephanie."

And just like that, he walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my doubts.

The next morning, Stefan was gone when I woke up. A note on the bedside table read:

"Handling business. Stay put. Security is tight."

I crumpled the note in frustration. I wasn’t a child, and I wasn’t about to sit around waiting for him to make decisions about my life.

Determined to take matters into my own hands, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t used in years.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was hesitant but familiar.

"Mom," I said, my voice shaking. "We need to talk."

There was a pause, and then, "Shania? What’s going on?"

"Not over the phone," I said. "Meet me at the old diner on Fifth. One hour."

I hung up before she could respond, my heart racing. If there was anyone who might have insight into Stephanie’s motives—or Stefan’s—it was the woman who knew us both better than anyone.

What I didn’t realize was that Stefan had eyes everywhere, and by the time I reached the diner, he would already know where I was headed—and he wouldn’t be happy about it.