TheLieHeardAroundTheGala
If Zara Bennett had known tonight would end with her fake engagement to her best friend, she would’ve worn higher heels—at least then she could’ve stomped on him properly.
The Bennett-Hayes Charity Gala sparkled like a diamond—literally. Chandeliers dripped crystal, champagne fizzed in tall glasses, and laughter echoed through the ballroom like money had its own soundtrack. It was the kind of night where people smiled too wide and lied too easily.
Zara had grown up in these rooms—satin gowns, fake air kisses, whispered gossip—but tonight, she’d promised herself she’d stay out of trouble. Which was easier said than done when her mother was on the prowl.
“Zara, darling,” Vivienne Bennett purred, sliding up beside her like a perfume ad in motion. “Have you met Nicholas Green? His father owns that diamond export company in London.”
Zara’s forced smile could’ve cracked glass. “Oh yes, I think I’ve met him before. He called my art ‘quirky in a concerning way.’”
Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. “He’s single, darling. Try not to scare this one away.”
Zara was about to escape when she saw him—tall, annoyingly handsome, the kind of man who looked good even when he rolled his sleeves up to think. Julian Hayes, her childhood best friend, her partner-in-chaos, the one man she could never lie to—until tonight.
He strode through the crowd in a crisp black tux, greeting people with that effortless charm that made women sigh and men take notes. His dark blue eyes landed on her and softened instantly.
“Zee,” he said, voice low and warm as he bent to kiss her cheek. “You look like you’re seconds away from setting something on fire.”
“Only my patience,” she muttered, taking a sip of champagne. “My mom’s on her ‘marry rich’ crusade again. You?”
“My mother just introduced me to the daughter of a French diplomat,” he replied, dryly. “She said, and I quote, ‘At least she has proper posture.’”
They both laughed, clinking glasses. For a brief second, it was just them again—two kids hiding from their parents’ parties under the dessert table, plotting their escape.
Then the universe decided to ruin it.
Vivienne spotted Mrs. Hayes across the room and, with the confidence of a woman who always got her way, called out, “Marjorie! Richard! Over here!”
Zara froze. “Oh no. Not the parents’ summit.”
“Oh yes,” Julian groaned.
Within seconds, both sets of parents converged—an elegant storm of wealth, expectations, and veiled disapproval.
Richard Hayes shook hands with Vivienne while Marjorie’s eyes swept over Zara’s simple black gown like she was appraising its worth.
“So,” Marjorie said with a smile sharp enough to cut diamonds, “you two are still spending an awful lot of time together. It’s good Julian has such loyal friends.”
“Friends,” Vivienne repeated, with just enough emphasis to sound like an accusation. “At their age, friendship is a waste of time, don’t you think?”
Zara shot Julian a look that screamed Don’t you dare.
He shot back one that said Trust me.
Then he opened his mouth.
And her life imploded.
“Well, actually,” Julian said casually, sliding an arm around her waist, “Zara and I are… engaged.”
The world froze. Champagne bubbles stopped mid-rise. Zara blinked once, twice—trying to process the stupidity that had just fallen out of his perfect mouth.
“I—what?” she choked.
“Engaged?” Vivienne gasped, hand to chest like she’d just won the lottery.
“Oh my,” Marjorie murmured, eyes wide with shock and thinly veiled calculation. “Well, that’s… unexpected.”
Julian tightened his arm around Zara, smiling through his teeth. “Yes. It’s still new. We were planning to announce it soon, but, well… surprise.”
Zara’s heart hammered. She could either:
A) Expose the lie and humiliate both families in front of half the city, or
B) Play along and kill Julian later.
She chose B. Always B.
“Yes,” she said, forcing the brightest smile she could manage. “Surprise!”
Vivienne’s scream of joy could’ve shattered glass. She clutched Zara’s hands, gushing about venues and dresses while Marjorie tried to look pleased. Cameras started flashing—someone had already called the press.
Zara leaned close to Julian, whispering through her teeth. “You’re a dead man.”
He didn’t flinch. “You’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“To save you from another date with Mr. Diamond Exports.”
She glared. “You could’ve just pretended to be my boyfriend.”
He smirked. “Where’s the fun in that, fiancée?”
Zara plastered on another fake smile as their parents toasted their “love.” But under the glittering lights, with Julian’s hand steady on her back and his warmth too close to ignore, one terrifying thought hit her—
Maybe pretending to love him wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought.
