My Fiancée Married My Sister

Chapter 14

Before I could process it, my phone beeped again, this time it was Diana calling.

“How did it go?” she asked immediately. “You sound like you just ran up forty floors instead of taking the elevator.”

I sat down, watching taxis blur past. “He just sent me a long ass text, making an offer, Di. A real one. It wasn't just information. He needs a fiancée. Temporary. For six months. Something about proving to his grandmother he can have a personal life, not just business dominance. In return, he helps me get back what Lancaster took. The designs. The patterns. Everything I created.”

Silence on her end for a beat. Then, “A fiancée? As in fake? With Noah Sinclair? The Glacier?”

“Exactly,” I said. “Live in his place. Attend events. Look convincing enough for family and business circles. He would pay a salary, give me a platform for my own fashion work, and most importantly, he is acquiring Lancaster. He promised to return my IP. Every sketch. Every strategy I built.”

Diana let out a long breath. “This is huge. But also complicated. You just got out of one relationship built on lies. Now you are considering stepping into another one, even if it is pretend?”

I watched a couple walk by holding hands and felt a sharp pull in my chest. “He laid out the terms so cleanly. No romance. Public only. Separate rooms. My own schedule. But he added one condition. We need to spend real time together. Dinners. Conversations. Enough to make it believable. He also sent a contract for me to sign if I agree.”

“What did you say?” Diana pressed.

“Nothing yet. But Di, the way he spoke about my work. He knew details no one else bothered to learn. The draping techniques I perfected. The wholesale approaches that actually worked. He called me the reason Lancaster has any value. Not a team member. Not support. The reason.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “He sees you. That part is clear. But six months pretending? Living in his world? After everything with Ryan and Ava, are you ready for that kind of performance?”

I stood up and started walking again, the city noise wrapping around me. “That is what I keep asking myself. I spent the whole meeting holding my own. Describing my new ideas. The capsule collection that celebrates real bodies. He listened like it mattered. Asked real questions. Not polite ones. Deep ones about structure and customer needs. For the first time in months, someone looked at me and saw the creator, not the discarded sister.”

We talked the entire walk back toward Diana’s place. I described the minimal office. The single photo he kept. The way he stood when I entered. The controlled way he explained the arrangement with his grandmother Eleanor threatening to change his inheritance trust.

“He is walled off,” I told her. “Cold on the surface. But there is something underneath. Calculation mixed with… I do not know. Recognition. Like he understands what it means to build something only to watch it get taken.”

Diana met me at her building door. “Come inside. We will go over every detail. Pros. Cons. What this could mean for your future designs. Your independence. But Jasmine, promise me you will not decide just because it feels like revenge. You deserve better than another transaction.”

Inside, we sat at the table with tea and the business card between us. I listed the benefits out loud. “Full return of my IP regardless of how the arrangement ends. A platform for my own label. Money to actually build instead of scraping by on applications. Distance from the family pressure. From the public comments that still trickle in.”

“And the risks?” Diana asked.

“Living with a man I barely know. Pretending in public. The chance that six months will change me in ways I cannot predict. He is intense. Handsome in that sharp way that makes you pay attention. But cold like the offices he works in. What if I start to forget it is pretend?”

We went back and forth for hours. Diana playing devil’s advocate. Me defending the possibilities. The conversation circled every angle. My history with trust. The way Ryan had made promises that turned to ash. The family meeting where I was asked to vanish. The wedding I did not attend.

By the time the sun started to set, I had written out my own counter terms on a fresh sheet of paper. Separate rooms. No private pretending. Full creative control over my projects. IP return guaranteed in writing.

I stared at the list. “I am going back tomorrow with these conditions. If he agrees, I will consider it seriously. If not, I walk away and keep building on my own.”

Diana looked at me with a mix of pride and worry. “You are negotiating with a billionaire as if it is normal business. That is the Jasmine I know. The one who redesigned an entire collection at midnight because she refused to settle. The one who still finds beauty in fabric and lines even after betrayal.”

I folded the paper and slipped it into my bag. The decision was not made. Not yet. But the possibility sat there, alive and pulling at me. Six months. A deal. A chance to take back what was mine and build something new.

What would Noah Sinclair say when I presented my terms? Would he see them as a strength or a complication? And what would happen if I said yes?