CAPTURED BY MY HOT ENGINEER

They say money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy a very convincing imitation of it. As I stood under the sparkling chandeliers of the Grand Ballroom, wearing a gown that cost more than most people’s houses and a smile that had been practiced in the mirror a thousand times, I felt like a mannequin brought to life. Everything was perfect. The diamonds at my ears caught the light, my hair was styled into an elegant updo, and my posture was straight enough to please even the strictest critic. To the world, I was Eloise Moore—heiress, beauty, and the luckiest woman alive. "Smile, Eloise," a voice whispered beside me. "You look like you're attending a funeral." I turned my head slightly, my smile never faltering, and looked at the man on my arm. Adrian Hayes. My fiancé. He was breathtakingly handsome, with perfectly styled hair, a tailored tuxedo, and a charisma that could charm the birds out of the trees. Everyone told us we were the perfect couple. The Golden Pair. "I am smiling, Adrian," I murmured back, my voice sweet and soft. "Not with your eyes, darling," he said, squeezing my hand just hard enough to be painful, just soft enough to look affectionate. "Remember, tonight is about appearances. The merger is almost done. The Apex project is launching next week. We need to look united. We need to look invincible." I nodded. Of course. It was always about business. Always about the image. "Ms. Moore! Mr. Hayes! Over here!" The cameras flashed like lightning, blinding and relentless. I tilted my chin, turned my head to the perfect angle, and let them capture the illusion. Click, click, click. Pictures that would be in the society pages tomorrow, captioned with words like glamorous, stunning, power couple. "Eloise!" My father, Elwood Moore, approached us. He was a man who commanded respect simply by entering a room. Tall, imposing, with eyes that missed nothing. He was the King of this world, and I was his Princess. "Father," I greeted him. "Good," he said, looking me up and down. "You look acceptable. Now, listen carefully. The reporters from Business Weekly are coming over. They want to ask about the new development." "The Apex," Adrian said smoothly, stepping forward. "The tallest skyscraper in the region. It’s going to be a landmark, sir. A testament to Moore Corp’s vision." Father nodded, but his gaze remained on me. "It is a massive undertaking, Eloise. Billions of dollars are at stake. We are bringing in the best engineers, the best minds. I expect you to be involved. To represent the family name with dignity." "Of course, Father," I replied automatically. "I understand the importance." "Good. Because unlike your brother, who prefers to play, you are the one who has to be serious. You are the face of this company." The words were meant to be a compliment, but they felt like a chain. Be serious. Be perfect. Be what we need you to be. A reporter shoved a microphone towards us. "Ms. Moore! How does it feel to be part of such an ambitious project? And how is married life treating you so far—or rather, upcoming married life?" I laughed, the sound was light and musical. "It feels incredible. Building something that will stand for generations is a privilege. And as for Adrian... well, I am simply the luckiest woman in the world." Adrian pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. It was cold. Choreographed. "She is being modest. She is the heart of this operation. And soon, she will be Mrs. Hayes." More flashes. More questions. They asked about budgets, about timelines, about the structural integrity of the building. Adrian and Father answered most of it, talking about concrete, steel, and profit margins. I just stood there, nodding, smiling, adding a word here and there to keep the illusion alive. The Apex. The name sounded cold. Sharp. Like something that would pierce the sky and never fall. I looked around the room. Everyone was beautiful. Everyone was rich. But no one was looking at anyone else. They were looking at status, at connections, at what they could gain. I felt like I was drowning in silk and champagne, suffocating in a room full of people. • The ride home was silent. The limousine was soundproofed, cocooning us from the noise of the city, but the silence inside was heavier. Adrian checked his phone, his face illuminated by the blue light. "You were a bit quiet tonight, Eloise." "I was listening," I said, staring out the window at the blurred lights of the city. "You need to be more vocal. People expect the future Mrs. Hayes to have a presence." "I'll remember that." He sighed, putting his phone away. "Look, I know it's tiring. But it's necessary. Once The Apex is finished, we'll be set for life. We'll have everything we ever wanted." Everything but the truth. Everything but freedom. We arrived at the penthouse. It was huge, minimalist, and cold. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the world we ruled. It was beautiful, but it felt like a display case. "I'm going to my study," Adrian said, loosening his tie. "I have some calls to make to the investors. Don't wait for me." He didn't kiss me goodnight. He just walked away, disappearing behind a door, leaving me alone in the vast, echoing hallway. I didn't go to the living room. I didn't go to the kitchen. I walked straight to my bedroom, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. I reached the door, turned the lock, and pushed it open. The room was dimly lit by the city lights outside. I walked in, and as the door clicked shut behind me, sealing me inside, something inside me finally broke. The smile dropped. I walked to the center of the room and just stood there, my shoulders slumping. The weight of the night, the weight of the expectations, the weight of being Eloise Moore—it all crashed down on me. I walked over to the vanity table and looked at my reflection. The woman staring back was beautiful. Flawless skin, painted lips, eyes that looked bright and alive. But if I looked close enough, I could see the emptiness. The hollowness. I reached up and began to undo the diamond earrings, dropping them onto the table with a heavy clink. Then my hands went to the back of my neck, fumbling with the zipper of my gown. The expensive fabric slid down my body, pooling around my feet like discarded skin. I stepped out of it, leaving it there on the floor, a crumpled heap of silk and perfection. I was wearing nothing but my thin undergarments now, barefoot and vulnerable. I walked to the window and pressed my forehead against the cool glass. Down below, the city was still alive, still moving. People living real lives. Laughing, crying, fighting, loving. And up here, in the sky, I was a prisoner. "Why?" I whispered to my reflection. My voice cracked. "Why does it feel so wrong?" I was rich. I was beautiful. I had a handsome fiancé and a powerful father. I had everything anyone could ever ask for. So why did I feel like I was dying inside? I thought about Adrian. Charming on the outside, but distant. Cold. He loved the idea of me, not me. He loved the name, the connection, the power I gave him. I thought about my father. He saw me as an asset. A tool to be used, a figurehead to be displayed. And The Apex. The new project. Another monument to their greed, another thing to build higher and higher until they touched the sky. I sank down onto the floor, my back against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest. For the first time all night, I let my face crumple. Tears burned my eyes, hot and fast. I didn't wipe them away. I let them fall. "I'm so tired," I sobbed silently into the darkness. "I'm so, so tired of pretending." I was living in a golden cage. The bars were made of diamonds and expectations. And I had been born in here, so I didn't know how to get out. I didn't even know if I was allowed to want to. But tonight, the cage felt smaller than ever. The air felt thinner. I closed my eyes, the image of the gala fading, replaced by a strange, sudden thought. I wondered what it would be like to be somewhere else. To be someone else. To be seen. Really seen. But it was just a dream. Tomorrow, I would wake up. I would put the dress back on. I would fix my face. And Eloise Moore, the perfect image, would return.