In the living room.
Liam remained by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his phone pressed to his ear as a cheerful ringtone played.
A moment later, a male voice answered.
"Sir,"
"Release the news of my return immediately--and make it loud. Announce my takeover of SCA. Keep the official press conference on the 16th."
Without waiting for a reply, he hung up and immediately dialed another number.
Two rings later, a groggy voice, thick with sleep, crackled through the receiver. "Liam...I just crashed at 5 AM. Can't this--"
"AB Weekly, SC Business Times, SW Entertainment Network--all three of them. Every magazine, every paper that went out this morning, I want them pulled. Any article about MT Group and DV Group? Erased. Destroyed. As for the reporters...send them to the Amazon jungle to report on scandals involving tigers and pythons."
"...What?"
"Litsen, you don't have time. For every minute of delay, RUP Group loses one percent of its sponsorship."
"Wait--Liam, what are you--Hello? Hello?!"
Nick dragged himself upright, his fingers moving on autopilot while his brain scrambled to catch up.
Then he saw the headlines--the photos splashed across every tabloid.
And suddenly, he was wide awake.
Of course. It was that woman again--Liam's fake wife.
And now, it looked like Liam had completely lost control...
***
Cecilia returned from the bathroom just in time to see Liam still lounging on the sofa, seemingly with no intention of leaving.
She casually rubbed her damp hair with a towel.
The air thickened with that familiar, uncomfortable silence.
"You'll catch a cold washing your hair in the morning like that," Liam said as he set down his cup and gestured for her to sit.
Cecilia, unsure of what he was planning, hesitantly sat down beside him.
Without asking, Liam took the towel from her hands, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you."
"..."
Cecilia relaxed a little--until his hands moved gently into her hair.
The towel began to blot and pat, his movements gentle, almost caressing, the warmth of his fingers brushing lightly through the strands.
"You should still blow-dry it later. Even if it's almost summer, the mornings are chilly."
"I--I can do it myself," She fumbled for the towel, but in her haste, her hand slipped--landing squarely over his.
Liam didn't move. He just let her grab his hand--then clasp it tighter.
Her cheeks burned.
Liam draped the towel over the back of the couch and leaned in, his voice low and teasing. "Breathe. Darling."
"..."
"I told you, you'll have to get used to me."
His scent enveloped her--clean, crisp. Cecilia flinched back, her body pressing into the back of the couch.
His shadow loomed, his gaze intense, drawing closer and closer until--
"What are you doing?" Her voice trembled.
Liam said nothing, his smirk deepening as he studied her, unblinking.
"I said, what do you--"
Then--a whisper of contact.
His lips brushed the corner of her mouth, so fleeting it could've been an accident. But the heat it left behind was deliberate.
Cecilia froze.
The ghost of his touch lingered, the scent of him intoxicatingly close.
A heartbeat later, she launched off the sofa, eyes blazing, "What the hell was that?"
"A kiss," he said simply.
"I didn't ask for it!" Her face burned.
In twenty-five years of reigning as Manhattan's untouchable heiress, no one had ever dared.
"You're mine. Why wouldn't I?"
"Yours?!"
Silently, Liam reached into his suit jacket and produced a booklet.
The gold lettering gleamed, MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE.
Speechless, Cecilia's flushed face drained of color, then cycled through shades of pale and stormy.
Their gazes locked--neither yielding an inch.
In that moment, it hit her--she had been duped.
From the moment they met, everything had been a carefully played act.
She'd foolishly invited him into her life as a "fake fiancé" only to realize too late that she'd brought a wolf into her home.
He hadn't just accepted the invitation to the city hall for their so-called marriage certificate.
No--he'd orchestrated it.
Now, like some cursed deal, the devil wouldn't leave.
And now, the smug curve of his lips carried an unmistakable note of triumph. A challenge.
Let him laugh. Let him enjoy it while he still can.
Soon, she would find the man from that night--the one who had unknowingly played the role of her fake husband--and once she did, Liam would be out. For good. He'd crossed a line.
He looked relaxed, practically glowing with satisfaction.
"Next time you see your ex-fiancé," he said with maddening calm, "you should slam these documents in his face too."
Cecilia's lips twitched involuntarily, her composure beginning to crack.
"Don't get any ideas," he added, crossing one ankle over his knee like he had all the time in the world. His tone was light, mocking. "I haven't forgotten--we're just pretending. Don't worry. I'm not interested in you."
Cecilia exhaled slowly, just about to respond--when her phone rang.
Liam gave it a lazy glance. No caller ID.
But the way Cecilia's entire body stiffened told him this wasn't just any call.
"You found it?" Her voice brightened instantly. "Send me the address."
Liam's eyes narrowed. What was she looking for?
He didn't want to overthink it, but judging from how she'd reacted earlier, he couldn't shake the feeling--
She was looking for him.
The man she'd slept with that night and then completely forgotten.
She had no idea...that the man was standing right in front of her.
As Cecilia hung up, their eyes met again.
A pause. A moment of unspoken clarity.
Liam rose from the couch. "Looks like you've got business. I'll leave you to it. As for the wedding...I'll handle everything. Just make sure the bride shows up on time."
"As you've seen," Cecilia replied coolly, "punctuality is one of my strong suits."
With a lazy, unhurried air, Liam walked out of the apartment and slid into his car.
But he didn't drive off.
He waited.
Sure enough--thirty minutes later, Cecilia came out, flagged down a taxi, and sped off.
Without a second thought, he hit the gas and followed.