I sat quietly in the car, my fingers gripping the lapel of the oversized suit hanging on my body. The city lights outside blurred into streaks of gold and grey, like the world was mocking me for falling apart again.
The car once filled with sweet vanilla and cranberry scents now smelled like rotten tomatoes all because of me.
Tonight had been hell, the kind of night you pray you'll wake up from.
Except I wasn't waking up.
They'd branded me a thief, a liar and a fraud just like the past. The night I spent all week avoiding had come back to bite me. It seems I couldn't escape this fate no matter what.
Everything that happened tonight played out in my head over and over again and I regretted why I hadn't taken off that stupid Vail off her face.
I hated myself for not finding out who my plagiarist was even though she was so close. I was still confused at how she was able to hear my thoughts and sing what I thought about.
Did she do it all the time?
I buried my face in my palm.
If Becky had been here, she'd probably tell me to breathe, to look up, to smile even when they spit on you. But Mr. Gentleman beside me had insisted she ride with his assistant.
Clayton Grey...
Yes, that Clayton Grey...
The billionaire who never smiles. A man whose name people whisper like a warning. The one who could destroy a person's life with a single word.
The same man I had proposed to just last week and tonight, he was sitting beside me, calm as sin itself.
Clayton Grey felt like a dream. I've only just heard about him on the media, but never in real life. I never met this man in my past, I have no idea why he's here now.
Just like my past life, I had expected someone else to save me, but instead, I was thrown a heartbreaking charmbomb from no where. It seems the universe have finally shown me mercy again.
*Sniffs*
Even though I've lived this life before, I was still hurt by everything going on. Now I could see how evil the people I thought were my family are.
Maybe I had gone too easy with my revenge plan. Now I knew who they were, and what they're capable of doing, I would never let them step on me again.
A single tear slid down, traitorous and hot. Then another followed.
God, I hated crying in front of anyone. Especially men.
I wiped them away fast, pretending not to notice when he turned to me.
"Here," his voice came low, deep and smooth like black coffee. A pink handkerchief appeared in front of my face.
I froze. His hand brushed my chin as he tilted my face toward him, his touch firm but careful.
"You shouldn't waste those tears on little things," he said, his tone unreadable.
Little things?
My entire life just got burned alive and this man called it little things?
"There you go," he added softly, wiping away the tears I missed.
Clayton Grey was nothing like the rumors.
No arrogance. No sharp-tongued cruelty. At least not yet.
"Thank you," I whispered, though my throat ached. He was the only one aside Becky that was kind to me tonight.
To me, I thought, all men are devils in different suits.
Even the one who ruined me the night of my wedding. The one who walked away after taking everything.
Clayton leaned back, resting both hands by his side. "It's nothing," he said simply, as if handing out comfort was just another business deal.
When we reached my apartment, I froze.
Reporters, fans, and haters a whole circus were crowding the gate. Flashlights, banners, shouting voices.
"Maeve Davis burn in hell!"
"Maeve Davis burn in hell!"
"Maeve Davis burn in hell!"
"It seems," Clayton said lazily, eyes scanning the chaos, "you've been banished from your own home."
I forced a laugh. "I can handle it. Thank you for the ride, Mr. Grey." With a deep bow, I tried opening the car door but it didn't budge. I turned back at the man whose eyes never left mine.
"And how do you intend to 'handle' it?" he asked, one brow raised.
"I just need a little distraction. Becky can draw their attention while I sneak in."
He let out a sigh. "So your plan is to sacrifice your assistant, then break into your own apartment, only to get trampled by an angry mob. Maybe killed? Brilliant."
I bit my lip, saying nothing. He was right, but what choice did I have? Grandma's house was hours away, and my face was already trending with every insult imaginable.
"I could stay at a hotel for tonight," I offered weakly.
He hummed. A low sound, dangerous and thoughtful. "And how long do you plan to hide there?"
"For as long as this blows over." I had no idea why this man was questioning me like I was in second grade.
"Hmm." His lips twitched. Not a smile. I couldn't forget Clayton Grey never smiles.
"But I would be a bad husband if I let my wife to be sleep alone in a hotel room when I have a huge mansion ready for her."
What the hell?
Wife to be?
When was I ever engaged to Clayton Grey? Was he dreaming or what? Had he mistake my identity to be that of his fiancee?
"Mr Grey what are you talking about? I'm not your wife to be." I tried to explain, just in case he hadn't seen me yet.
I was married to Fred Orchard and we were still in our state of divorce. I still had less than a month to be his wife. How could I be engaged?
"Are you Maeve Davis?" He asked and I nodded.
"I am." I said waiting to hear him say nasty rude things finally.
I was the Maeve slut, the theif and evil woman who slept with someone else on her wedding night.
"How long were you willing to abandon me, wife."