Chapter Five
1058 Words
The Public Lie
Morning in Manhattan came with the roar of traffic and a thousand flashing lights. By 8 a.m., the Ashford Industries press release had hit every major outlet in New York — and Ava Sinclair’s name was suddenly everywhere.
BILLIONAIRE LIAM ASHFORD SECRETLY MARRIED?
INSIDE THE MYSTERY WOMAN WHO STOLE NEW YORK’S MOST ELIGIBLE TYCOON.
Ava sat on the edge of the penthouse bed, staring at the phone in her hands. Notifications piled up faster than she could swipe them away — friends, old colleagues, journalists, even her landlord. Everyone wanted a comment.
She hadn’t even unpacked yet.
The skyline stretched outside the floor - to - ceiling windows, drenched in sunlight, but she felt like she was standing in someone else’s life.
A soft knock sounded on the bedroom door. “Come in,” she said automatically.
Liam stepped inside, tie already knotted, posture perfect, unreadable as ever. He carried a folded newspaper in one hand. “We’re front - page news.”
“I noticed.” She dropped her phone on the comforter. “You could’ve warned me I’d wake up famous.”
“I told you appearances mattered.”
“There’s a difference between appearing married and becoming a headline.”
He placed the paper on the nightstand, the bold print screaming up at her. Then he met her eyes. “If you can survive the first week, the rest will be easier.”
“Easier?” She laughed without humor. “That’s your version of comfort?”
His jaw tightened. “You wanted the truth.”
“What I wanted,” she said, standing to face him, “was a chance. Not a circus.”
For the first time, something flickered behind his control — a flash of guilt, maybe regret. It vanished as quickly as it appeared.
He checked his watch. “We have a photo call at noon. The car will be downstairs at eleven - thirty.”
She stared at him. “A photo call. You mean… pretending?”
He nodded once. “Smiles. Rings. The illusion of happiness. You can handle that, can’t you?”
“Watch me,” she said coolly.
He studied her a beat longer, as though he couldn’t decide if she was brave or reckless. “I never doubted that.”
When he left, Ava sank onto the bed again. Her pulse still raced, but beneath the chaos she felt something else — resolve. She’d signed the contract. She’d chosen this. And she refused to be anyone’s puppet, not even Liam Ashford’s.
********************************************************
At noon, flashbulbs exploded like fireworks as the limousine door opened.
Liam offered his hand, and Ava took it — not because she needed help, but because the world was watching.
The plaza outside Ashford Industries shimmered with cameras, reporters, and curious onlookers. Paparazzi shouted questions over the barricades.
“Liam! Is it true you met in Paris?”
“Ava, how does it feel to marry New York’s most elusive bachelor?”
“Are you pregnant?”
Ava almost tripped on that one, but Liam’s grip tightened imperceptibly. “Ignore them,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. “Smile for the cameras.”
She tilted her head toward him, forcing a perfect, practiced smile. Their fingers intertwined just long enough for the flashes to capture the illusion of affection.
But when she glanced up at him, something real flickered there — something she wasn’t supposed to see.
Not arrogance. Not cold control.
Loneliness.
It was gone a second later, replaced by the familiar mask of power. But it was enough to make her heart stumble.
Inside the building, the noise faded. Assistants scurried, executives whispered, photographers adjusted their lenses. A huge company banner read:
THE FUTURE OF ASHFORD INDUSTRIES: FAMILY, LEGACY, VISION.
The irony wasn’t lost on her.
Liam leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. “You did well.”
“Did I pass your audition?” she whispered back.
He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened. “You exceeded it.”
*********************************************************
Hours later, when the press conference ended and the crowd dispersed, Ava finally exhaled. Her cheeks ached from smiling. Her voice was raw from polite answers.
As they rode the elevator back up to the penthouse, she slumped against the wall. “Is it always like this?”
Liam’s reflection met hers at the mirrored door. “It used to be worse.”
“What changed?”
He looked at her directly then. “I stopped caring about what people thought.”
She studied him. “And yet you care enough to marry me for show.”
“Business,” he said simply.
“Right,” she murmured. “Business.”
The elevator chimed. Neither moved.
Then, quietly, she said, “You know, for a man who doesn’t believe in feelings, you’re very good at faking them.”
His lips curved just slightly. “Maybe you bring out the performance in me.”
The doors slid open, revealing the sprawling penthouse bathed in golden afternoon light.
As Ava stepped out, she felt his gaze follow her — not possessive, but curious. The kind of curiosity that could turn dangerous if left unchecked.
She turned back toward him, her voice soft but steady. “For the record, I don’t fake smiles either.”
“I noticed,” he said, eyes darkening.
For a heartbeat, the city outside seemed to fade. It was just them — two strangers bound by a lie, standing on the edge of something neither of them could name yet.
Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression hardening instantly. “I have to take this.”
“Of course you do,” she said quietly, walking away.
When he answered the call, his voice dropped low and sharp. She caught only fragments — ‘Not now… I said it’s handled… No, she doesn’t know.’
Ava paused by the window, watching his reflection as he turned away.
He was hiding something.
She didn’t know what yet, but the realization sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the air - conditioning.
And somewhere deep down, beneath the glitter and the lies, Ava Sinclair made herself a promise:
If Liam Ashford had secrets, she would find them.
Even if it meant breaking her own heart to do it.
- Writer
