We don't even stop to breathe after signing the contract. Adrian drives us straight to the Cole estate like we're on some kind of corporate mission. No music, no small talk—just silence thick enough to cut with a steak knife.
By the time we pull up to the gate, I've chewed my bottom lip into a pulp.
The estate is exactly what I expect: massive, dramatic, and suspiciously spotless. A small army of servers greets us at the door like they've been rehearsing for this moment. One even bows. I have to stop myself from laughing. Okay, relax—I'm not royalty. Just the fake fiancée of their emotionally constipated boss.
And then she appears.
"Adrian!" A high-pitched voice floats in from the hallway, followed by a woman gliding in like she's auditioning for a soap opera. She's wearing a silk robe that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. She rushes over, wraps Adrian in a dramatic hug, then turns to me with a bright, pageant smile.
"You must be Mara! Wow. When Adrian told us he was in love, I assumed he'd been hypnotized or blackmailed."
"Thank you?" I smile awkwardly.
She waves her hand. "Oh, don't mind me. I joke when I'm nervous. You're absolutely stunning. I mean—Adrian? With a girl like you? Miracles happen."
Adrian rolls his eyes. "Where's Dad?"
She smirks. "Reading in his study, as usual. Probably buried in some philosophical nonsense about mortality."
Adrian mumbles something and heads upstairs without another word, leaving me alone with Stepford Barbie.
She gestures toward a sofa that looks too expensive to actually sit on. "Come, darling. Let me properly introduce myself. I'm Sia—Adrian's stepmother. And you are even more gorgeous up close."
"Thank you," I say, settling in, trying to keep my knees from bouncing.
Her eyes drop to my wrist. "And that watch—so vintage. Where'd you get it?"
"Oh, this?" I glance down at the old silver piece. "It was my grandmother's. She gave it to my mom, and now it's mine."
She gasps. "A family heirloom? That's adorable."
"Thanks," I say, a little surprised. Maybe this dinner won't be so bad after all.
A few minutes later, Adrian comes back down. He's alone.
I frown. "I thought you were getting your dad?"
He shrugs. "He's not in the mood. Might come down when dinner's ready."
Perfect. Already avoiding me. Not ominous at all.
Right on cue, the chef and servers begin setting the long dining table like it's a royal banquet. Silverware glints at me like it's judging my tax bracket.
Then, Mr. Cole appears.
He comes down the stairs like an angry CEO in a movie. Tall, crisp suit, perfectly groomed silver hair, and enough disapproval radiating off him to wither a houseplant. I leap to my feet, offering a polite smile.
"Hello, Mr. Cole—"
He walks right past me.
Okay. Cool.
We sit. The food is Michelin-star level, but my appetite is somewhere between nervous and nonexistent. For a moment, it almost feels manageable.
And then he opens his mouth.
"So," he says without looking up from his steak, "what do you do for a living?"
I blink. "I—um—I'm a gym coach."
He pauses, raises an eyebrow. "Ah. That explains how Adrian found 'true love' so quickly."
He even does air quotes. Classy. His sarcasm could burn calories faster than my workouts.
I want to dive headfirst into the mashed potatoes.
"And where exactly is this gym?" he asks, chewing slow, like he's tasting my panic.
I square my shoulders. "It's called FlexCore. I actually own it."
Lie. I work there. But telling him I report to the head trainer feels like career suicide.
He nods like he's already dismissed me. "Never heard of it. But… cool."
Sia jumps in with a little laugh. "Well, I think it's refreshing! We need more women in business—and fitness!"
Bless her, truly.
For a while, things settle into an almost tolerable rhythm. We eat. We scarcely chat. Sia jokes about how she can't even do a 20secs plank. I almost start breathing normally again.
Then Mr. Cole clears his throat, sets down his wine glass, and turns to me with a look that freezes my blood.
"This whole engagement is very sudden," he says. "I've known Adrian his whole life. He's impulsive. Disrespectful. Frankly, he doesn't know how to treat women."
The air turns solid.
"And now, out of nowhere, he wants to get married? I don't know who I should be more worried for—my son, manipulated by a gold digger, or you, trapped in a marriage with a man who doesn't deserve you."
I forget how to breathe for a minute.
Adrian's chair screeches as he stands. "I'm done."
And just like that, he storms out.
I stare down at my half-eaten plate. So… this is going great. Do I keep eating or follow the angry billionaire into the night?
Even Sia looks like she just swallowed a lemon.
"I should go," I say quietly, standing up even though dessert just arrived and I really wanted to taste that lava cake.
Outside, I find him in the parking lot, leaning against his car, cigarette between his fingers like he's auditioning for a noir film.
"Hey," I say, approaching gently. "You okay?"
"I need to get out of here," he mutters. "I'm done with him."
I step closer. "What he said was awful. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."
He looks at me, eyes darker than I've ever seen. "Didn't I? He's not wrong, Mara. You are a gold digger. And I'm just the idiot with the checkbook."
The words hit like a slap across the face.
I can't speak. My throat tightens. My hands curl into fists.
"You practically begged me to do this—"
He didn't let me finish. "Get in the car, I'm taking you home."
I stare at him, then back at the car. Sigh.
No matter how hard I try to brace myself, I know deep down—this is going to be the longest, hardest five years of my life.