Psychic Billionaire Husband

It was late. Far too late. And Maeve Summers was still at her desk, surrounded by empty coffee cups and scattered notes. The glow of her screen illuminated her face as she squinted at the final tweaks of the proposal when her phone buzzed on the desk. She sighed and picked up. “Hey, Lily.” “Maeve.” Lily’s voice carried the familiar mix of exhaustion and exasperation. “You need to go home. I know the deadline’s tomorrow, and let’s face it, our marketing team sucks anyway.” Maeve leaned back in her chair, rolling her shoulders. “I’m almost done. I’ll leave soon.” “No, you won’t,” Lily argued. “You always say that, and then you end up sleeping under your desk like a sad little raccoon. Go home. You’ll look like a zombie at the retreat this weekend.” “I can’t, Lily. Someone has to care about this deadline.” Maeve rubbed her temple. “Not all of us can be quitters.” Lily groaned dramatically. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when the office ghosts get you. You know, the ones in the storage room?” Maeve’s lips twitched. “What ghosts?” “Oh, you haven’t heard?” Lily dropped her voice to a spooky whisper. “Years ago, a guy stayed late working, and no one ever saw him leave. They say his restless ghost haunts the supply room, waiting for other overachievers to join him.” Maeve snorted. “Nice try, but I’m pretty sure the only ghosts haunting this place are our unfinished campaigns.” “Laugh all you want,” Lily said, “But if you hear creepy noises, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” “Duly noted, Lily. Goodnight.” Maeve hung up with a grin, shaking her head. ‘Ghosts. Right.’ She stood and stretched, her spine cracking in protest. Her notebook was almost full, and she needed a fresh one to finish her notes. The storage room it was. The office felt eerie at night. Quiet, except for the distant hum of the ventilation system. The hallway leading to the storage room was dimly lit, shadows stretching long across the floor. Maeve rolled her eyes at herself, ‘Thanks, Lily.’ She reached the supply room and gripped the handle, ready to flick on the light. But as her fingers touched the door, she paused. Soft noises carried through the door – low murmurs and… was that a laugh? Maeve frowned. ‘Is someone else here?’ She leaned closer, her ear nearly pressing to the cool wood. “… ah … Ryan,” a familiar voice purred, followed by the sound of shuffling. Maeve froze. ‘Ryan?’ Her heart stopped as she pushed the door open just enough to see inside. There, under the dull glow of the supply room’s light, was Ryan – her Ryan – his arms tangled around Vicky Pierce as they leaned against the shelves, locked in a kiss. Vicky giggled softly, running her manicured fingers through Ryan’s hair, and he murmured something Maeve couldn’t hear. For a moment, Maeve couldn’t process what she was seeing. The person she trusted the most in the world – the man she’d loved for three years – here, making out with her rival coworker, like a scene straight out of a bad soap opera. Vicky’s laugh rang out again, shattering Maeve’s daze. The sound pulled her back to reality like a slap to the face. ‘Horror, indeed,’ Maeve thought bitterly, Lily’s ghost story suddenly felt far too real. Ryan turned his head, as though sensing her, and when his eyes locked onto her, the color drained from his face. “Maeve!” Vicky glanced over her shoulder and smirked, completely unbothered. “Oops.” Maeve pushed the door open wider, her voice eerily calm despite the fury bubbling beneath the surface. “Oops? That’s all you have to say?” Ryan scrambled to step forward, hands raised like he could smooth this over. “Maeve, wait– this isn’t–” “Don’t,” Maeve snapped, her words sharp enough to slice through him. Her gaze shifted to Vicky, her lips curling. “I’d say I’m surprised, but this is exactly your level of classy.” Vicky shrugged, smugness radiating from her. “He clearly upgraded.” Maeve let out a humorless laugh. “Right. I’ll be sure to remember that when he cheats on you in a storage closet.” Ryan stammered, panic in his eyes. “Maeve, let me explain–” “No.” Her voice was cold and final. “You don’t get to explain. Three years, Ryan. And this is how it ends? In a dingy supply room with her?” Ryan opened his mouth again, but Maeve didn’t wait for a reply. She turned on her heel and walked away, her heart pounding so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else. As she stormed back to her desk, a swirl of anger, disbelief, and heartbreak fought for dominance in her chest. But one thing rang clear: she would not let them see her cry. Not tonight. ‘You think this is the end?’ she thought, her jaw tightening as she shoved her notebook into her bag. ‘You have no idea who you’re messing with.’ _____ Half an hour before midnight, Lily burst into Maeve’s apartment holding a bag of groceries and a pint of ice cream. She didn’t bother with pleasantries, just toed off her shoes and marched straight to the kitchen to grab two spoons. Maeve sat curled on the couch in sweats and a blanket, her eyes red and puffy. “I look awful,” Maeve muttered. “You look like someone who found out their boyfriend’s a cheating scumbag,” Lily replied, plopping onto the couch next to her. “Honestly, you’re doing better than most. I would’ve burned his favorite hoodie and sent him a video.” Maeve snorted despite herself. “Tempting.” Lily held out the ice cream. “Here. Eat this. It’s therapy in a tub.” Maeve took a spoonful but stared blankly at the wall. “Three years, Lily. Three. And he threw it all away for her. In the storage closet, of all places. Like some cliché workplace affair!” “Storage room affairs are tacky,” Lily agreed, chewing on her spoon thoughtfully. “Honestly, it’s almost insulting. You deserved at least a dramatic betrayal with fireworks or something.” “Stop,” Maeve groaned, though a weak smile tugged at her lips. “Even so, I don’t want to be a dirty doormate they can stomp all over. I want revenge, but I don’t know how.” Lily grinned mischievously. “Oh, I know the perfect formula for it.” Maeve blinked. “You do?” “Yes! The petty kind. The kind where you show up at the company holiday retreat this weekend looking so happy, so unbothered, so much better off than him that Ryan chokes on his overpriced cocoa.” Maeve shook her head with a small laugh. “I’m not going to stoop to his level.” “Who said anything about stooping? I’m talking about the illusion of moving on.” Lily’s grin widened. “Maeve, you need a fake boyfriend.” Maeve’s spoon froze mid-air. “A what?” “Hear me out!” Lily grabbed her shoulders, shaking her lightly. “You don’t have to actually date someone. Just pretend. Bring someone gorgeous, confident, and vaguely unavailable. A guy who’ll make Ryan – and Vicky – squirm all weekend.” Maeve stared at her. “Where am I supposed to find someone like that? Did you forget I don’t actually have a social life and Ryan was the only one I have? Oh gosh!” “Easy.” Lily whipped out her phone, fingers flying over the screen. “The internet exists for a reason, babe. If people can hire actors for weddings, you can hire a fake boyfriend for a ski retreat. It’s genius.” Maeve gaped. “You’re insane.” “Am I?” Lily’s phone lit up as she turned it toward Maeve. “Look at this – ‘Professional Dates for Hire.’ There’s literally a site for everything. We’ll put up an ad, screen the candidates, and bam – you’ve got your charming, fake significant other. Ryan won’t know what hit him.” Maeve stared at the phone, a skeptical frown pulling at her lips. “That’s ridiculous. No one will believe it. I won’t believe it!” “They will if we do it right. Besides, think of it as damage control. You’ll get to save face, and you’ll be the talk of the ski retreat.” Maeve hesitated. The idea was absurd, borderline humiliating. But then she remembered the look on Ryan’s face when he turned around in that storage room, how his expression fell from cocky to caught. ‘Didn’t he deserve a little payback?’ “Come on,” Lily coaxed, sensing her softening resolve. “Picture it now: Ryan watching you with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome at your side. Vicky seething with jealousy. And you? Completely unbothered. It’s poetic.” Maeve rolled her eyes, though a flicker of curiosity sparked in her chest. “…what would the ad even say?” Lily grinned victoriously, already typing on Maeve’s phone. “That’s what working in a marketing team for three years prepared us for!” An hour later, Lily held up her phone triumphantly. “Okay, here it is. Short, sweet, and to the point.” She cleared her throat dramatically: “Wanted: Fake Boyfriend for Holiday Ski Trip. Must be charming, confident, and convincing in front of nosy coworkers. Ability to ski a plus, bonus points for sharp suits and witty comebacks. All expenses paid. Serious inquiries only.” Maeve groaned, burying her face in a pillow. “This is humiliating.” “Humiliating or brilliant? I’m going with brilliant,” Lily said cheerfully. “Trust me, Maeve. This is going to be epic.” Maeve peeked up, narrowing her eyes. “If this backfires, I’m blaming you.” Lily tossed her hair over her shoulder. “It won’t. You’re going to look like a queen. And who knows? Maybe we’ll even find someone you like.” Maeve snorted. “Yeah, right.” But as she lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t help but wonder – what if Lily was onto something? Maybe this was the perfect way to get back at Ryan. After all, how hard could it be to fake a little romance?