FROM HUMILIATED BRIDE TO HIS OBSESSION

Episode6

Zoey’s POV

“I need you to keep pretending.”

I almost didn't come. I stood outside the glass door of the cafeteria for a full two minutes, staring at my reflection like it might give me permission to turn around and go home, but it didn't.

Instead, it showed me a girl I barely recognized. My hair was neatly styled, my makeup was simple but clean, nothing like the tear-streaked mess from the wedding disaster that the whole world had seen. My dress was a modest, soft blue gown just above my knees. I looked normal but didn’t feel normal.

Not when my phone buzzed continuously in my hand, I didn’t even need to check to know what it was, but I still glanced at it. Notifications flooded my screen, you’re the girl from the video, right? Is that really you with him? How did you pull a billionaire?

My stomach twisted, just yesterday they were laughing at me; now, they are watching me. I swallowed hard and pushed the door open, the café was quiet, it wasn’t empty, but it was quiet in a way that made everything feel expensive.

Soft golden lights hung from the ceiling, the chairs looked like they cost more than my rent, and even the air smelled of rich coffee and something I couldn’t name. I instantly felt out of place, eyes turned towards me a woman near the window paused mid-sip, her gaze lingering. A man at the counter looked at his phone, then at me, then back at his phone.

They recognized me and that hit me like a slap, they knew. I almost turned around right then, but instead I forced my legs to move and chose a seat near the corner hoping the shadows would hide me just enough.

My phone buzzed again, and I flipped it over on the table. I wasn't going to check it. I exhaled slowly, pressing my hands flat against the table to stop the tremble, “What am I doing here?” I asked myself. Meeting him had been a mistake on its own.

Everything since the wedding had been one long, spiraling mistake, and yet I stayed because there was something about him, something that made walking feel unfinished.

The door opened again, but I didn’t look up immediately, but I felt that shift, like the entire room straightened without realizing it, as if someone had just changed the air.

My heart started beating faster, I slowly lifted my head, and there he was Christian Bellucci. He didn’t rush, he walked in like he owned the place, dark suit, perfect fit, not a single crease, his posture was straight, his expression was calm and unreadable.

There was no sign that his face had been plastered across headlines, no sign that the world was talking about him, no sign that anything was out of place. If anything, he looked like the center of it all, like he had expected the attention, like he accepted and owned it.

My breath caught, why did he look so unaffected? Why did I feel like everything inside me was spinning while he stood there as if nothing could touch him?

His gaze found me immediately, like he knew exactly where I would be, and just like that, the rest of the room disappeared, it was just him and me. My heart started racing, why me? The question came back, louder this time.

He walked towards me, each step steady and deliberate, I straightened in my seat without thinking, suddenly aware of everything, my hands, my posture, the way my breath came a little too fast.

He stopped at the table. For a second, neither of us spoke, then he pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, no greeting, no smile, just those sharp, unreadable eyes locked onto mine. My throat went dry, then he spoke, “We have a situation.”

I blinked. “That’s one way to put it,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. He didn’t react, didn’t smile, didn’t even blink. Instead, he reached into his jacket, pulled out his phone, and slid it across the table towards me.

I hesitated before picking it up, then I looked at it and my stomach dropped. Headlines filled the screen, billionaire’s new woman sparks frenzy. Who is she? Mystery woman linked to Christian Bellucci, my face was everywhere in different angles and at different moments.

That photo of his arm around me and my head tilted towards him as if we belonged together, like it was real. Hear crawled up my neck, I set the phone down slowly. “This is your problem,” I said, lifting my chin slightly, “not mine.”

His gaze didn’t shift. “It became yours the moment those photos were taken.” I opened my mouth, and closed it again. Damn it he wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t about to let him see that “you’re the billionaire,” I said, crossing my arms. “Fix it.”

His expression didn’t change. “I intend to,” but something in his tone made my chest tighten, there was something beneath the calm, something serious.

He leaned back, his fingers resting on the table, “This isn’t about run-outs,” he said. “It’s about inheritance.” I frowned. “What?”

“My grandfather’s will contains conditions,” he continued in a steady voice. I felt my confusion deepen. “What kind of conditions?”

He didn’t answer immediately, it felt like he was choosing his words carefully. “I am required to be in a serious, stable relationship,” he finally said.

My breath hitched a little, “And if you’re not?” I asked. His gaze hardened: “I lost control of everything.”

There was silence, I stared at him, trying to process what he had just said, because this wasn’t about gossip and headlines, it was about power, about money.

“Wait,” I said slowly. “You’re serious?” “I don’t joke about things like this.” I believed him, that was the problem. I felt a strange feeling creep into my chest, suspicion or curiosity. I couldn’t place it.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked quietly. His eyes didn’t leave mine, because that was the real question, wasn’t it? Why me? Why was I sitting here, in this expensive café, being told something that felt like it belonged in another world?

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched me like I was something he was trying to understand or something he had already decided on. “I want you to keep pretending.”

I stared at him and for a second I thought I heard him wrong, then I let out a short laugh. “You’re kidding.” He didn’t smile. My laughter faded, Oh he wasn’t kidding, you’re serious,” I said, my voice quieter now.

“Yes,” the word landed heavily. I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. “You want me to what? Pretend to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” just like that, like he was asking me to pass the salt. “That’s insane.” “Is it?” He asked calmly.

“Yes!” I leaned forward. “We don’t know each other.” “We don’t need to,” he said. Something about the way he said that sent a small shiver down my spine. He continued as if we were discussing a business plan.

“Public appearances, events, social presence. Everything has to be convincing enough that no one questions it,” he added, lowering his voice.

My heart was beating too fast, that was crazy, completely insane, and yet a small part of me leaned towards it, towards him. “Why me?” I asked this time. My voice wasn’t defensive, it was honest and curious.

His gaze held mine and for a second I thought I saw something there, something deeper, but it was gone before I could name it. “Because you’re already in the story,”

That wasn’t an answer, but it felt like one. The air between us changed, he leaned back, watching me and waiting. Then his tone changed: “This only works if there are rules.” Of course there were, there were always rules with men like him.

I nodded slowly, “Okay, so what kind of rules?” “No real feelings,” he said. The words landed harder than I expected: “No personal interference,” “No stepping outside the agreed narratives.” Each rule felt like a wall being built. “This is controlled,” he continued. “structured, nothing more.”

I studied him, he didn’t leave anything to chance, he didn’t lose control, didn’t make mistakes. Everything about him was precise and planned.

“You will be protected,” The words were simple, but they hit differently. Protected from what? From the media? From his world? From him? I wasn’t sure and that was the problem because part of me believed him, part of me felt something shift inside at that promise. I felt safe and threatened at the same time.

I held his gaze, his eyes didn’t soften, but they didn’t leave mine either and suddenly, it didn’t feel like just a deal, it felt like something else.

Silence filled the space again. He didn’t rush me, he just watched and waited like he already knew what I would say. My mind started racing, he’s using you, the thought came fast. But then you can use him too, and just like that, another image filled my mind.

Adrian was standing in a room, watching me walk in with Christian, who is powerful and untouchable, regrets written all over Adrian’s face. I chuckled because that image did something satisfying to me.

My fingers curled at the table, “This benefits you too,” Christian said quietly. He didn’t explain, he didn’t need to because I already understood what he meant. I looked at him again, this time as an opportunity.

My heart was still racing, there was fear but something else was growing. I leaned forward slightly and finally asked, “What do I get out of this?”