Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You Chapter 143: Who is That?

Hailey

I step back into the studio, still feeling the echo of Josh’s hand in mine, his words swirling in my chest like confetti in slow motion.

The chaos is still here, waiting. Makeup touch-ups are being barked across the set, lighting techs adjusting angles, and Riley... well, Riley is seated on the edge of the backdrop, tapping furiously on her phone, flipping her hair.

I inhale through my nose. You’ve got this, Hailey. You’re not letting this ship sink.

I walk straight up to her. "Riley," I say, calm but firm.

She glances up at , phone still in hand. "Oh hey. Just giving my followers a little BTS. They love fashion shoots."

I give her a tight smile. "They’re going to love this next set even more. You ready?"

She frowns, looking around. "Uh, are we still doing the garden goddess thing? Because, no offense, but this outfit’s kind of... earthy."

"It’s called couture," I reply smoothly. "And yes, we’re doing the garden goddess thing—except this ti, you’re not selling face cream to the internet. You’re telling a story."

Riley blinks. "A story?"

"Yes," I say, circling her like I’m fine-tuning a sculpture. "You’re not posing. You’re feeling. You’re a statue coming to life. Mysterious. Tiless. Like you’ve just stepped out of a painting and haven’t decided if you want to go back in."

She stares at like I’ve grown a second head. "So... like... I’m confused, but hot?"

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. "Exactly."

Riley slowly rises, slipping her phone into the robe pocket and stepping onto the set. "Okay. Confused, but hot. Got it."

I nod to the photographer, who lifts the cara. The lights flare.

"Relax your jaw," I say, voice low and even. "Drop the shoulders. Yes—just like that. Now tilt your chin. There."

Sothing shifts. I see it. The angle of her neck, the narrowing of her eyes—less ’influencer at brunch,’ more ’nymph about to disappear into the forest mist.’

The cara clicks rapidly.

"Beautiful," the photographer mutters. "That’s it. Keep going. Now reach toward the vines—slowly... yes, there."

It works. She works. For the first ti all day, Riley isn’t playing a part for her followers. She’s embodying sothing else entirely, sothing she doesn’t even realize she’s doing.

I step back, arms crossed, heart pounding—not with stress this ti, but sothing like satisfaction.

Josh catches my eye from the corner, watching silently from the sidelines, his lips tugged into a soft, knowing smile. He gives a little nod.

We’re okay, it says. You’ve got this.

I smile back.

Because yeah... I do.

And for the first ti all day, I believe it.

"Bravo." Marcus’s deep voice startles .

I turn to find him leaning against the doorfra, slow-clapping like he’s just watched a Broadway performance instead of, you know, the shoot he tried to sabotage.

His smirk is just as smug as always, but there’s sothing sharper in his eyes—curiosity maybe, or irritation that his little stunt didn’t implode the day.

"I knew you had it in you, Hailey," he says, sauntering forward. "Turning chaos into couture. I’m impressed."

I cross my arms. "Yeah, thanks."

"I an it," he says, tilting his head. "You took a hot ss and turned it into sothing... haunting. Riley actually looked like she belonged in that scene. I wasn’t expecting that."

I raise an eyebrow. "No, you were expecting to fail."

He lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "Of course not. I hired you because you were the best."

I take a step toward him, lowering my voice so the rest of the crew can’t hear. "Let be very clear, Marcus. I’m not interested in your little mind gas. Whatever this was...bringing in my boyfriend’s ex, trying to rattle —it didn’t work. We’re stronger than that."

"Boyfriend?" Marcus echoes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he just stumbled on a juicy secret. "That official now?"

I don’t flinch. I hold his gaze like it’s a staring contest and I’ve already won. "Yes. Not that it’s any of your business."

His eyes flick briefly toward Josh across the studio, then back to . "Interesting choice."

"No," I correct sharply, "it’s the right choice."

Marcus chuckles under his breath, the kind of laugh that’s more disbelief than amusent. "You know, I was starting to think you might actually enjoy the tension I bring to the table."

I stare at him flatly. But before I can say anything else, one of the crew mber interrupts . "Hailey, you have a visitor."

I blink. "A visitor?"

The crew mber nods, already stepping aside. "She’s waiting by the front entrance."

Marcus raises an eyebrow but wisely doesn’t follow as I walk toward the edge of the set. I pass the backdrop, the soft murmurs of the crew, the photographer still reviewing shots with Riley, and make my way through the studio doors, pulse quickening with curiosity.

And then I see her.

"Rebecca?" I stop short, stunned.

She’s standing there with a wide grin, arms crossed casually, as if this were just a casual drop-in and not a surprise bomb in the middle of my chaos.

"Hey!" she chirps, bouncing forward with a bounce in her step. "Surprise!"

I hug her before my brain can catch up. "What are you doing here?"

She pulls back and wiggles her brows. "Well, I figured you and Josh could use a cheerleader. And maybe a bottle of champagne. Or two."

I laugh, the tension in my shoulders lting instantly. "That’s amazing! I’m sure Josh missed you. He will be thrilled that you are here to visit."

"Or be horrified. You never know with our Joshua," she says, linking her arm with mine and glancing behind toward the studio. "So...this is where you work? So fancy."

I smile. "Yes. Do you want to give you a tour?"

"Hell yeah!" Rebecca chirped.

I lead her inside the studio.

The mont we step back in, the energy hits Rebecca like a gust of wind. Her eyes widen as she takes everything in—the towering light rigs, the hum of whispered direction, the chaos stitched with glamour.

"Okay, this is so not the sad little break room you used to cry in back at your last job," she says under her breath, smirking.

I laugh. "Nope. Definitely an upgrade."

As we weave through the set, she whistles low at Riley, who’s now perched in a tangle of vines like so couture forest queen, fully in character.

"Oh dear god," Rebecca says and looks disgusted.

I can’t help but laugh. "What? Don’t tell you don’t like her."

Rebecca frowns. "No, I don’t and I don’t understand how Josh ever liked her in the first place let alone dating her. He must’ve been smoking so hard drugs to not see how ridiculous she is."

I giggle. "She is not that bad when she listens to my directions."

Rebecca’s eyes land on Marcus, who’s currently deep in conversation with a stylist near the monitors, his sleeves rolled, arms crossed, looking every bit like he owns the world—or at least this studio.

Her lips part into a slow, sly grin.

"Okay, wait," she says, dragging to a stop by the elbow. "Who. Is. That?"

I follow her gaze. "Marcus."

She raises a brow. "That’s Marcus?"

I nod, already bracing for impact. "Yes. My boss."

Rebecca doesn’t blink. "Okay, but why does he look like he just stepped off the set of a mafia drama called Daddy Issues: The Tailored Edition?"

I choke on a laugh. "Please don’t call him that. He already thinks he’s God’s gift to won. He does not need that energy reinforced."

Rebecca squints. "He’s giving serious ’CEO who leaves emotional damage and $2,000 tips’ vibes."

"I know," I groan. "And he knows it too. Which makes it so much worse."

Rebecca hums, still staring. "Well you better introduce to him then."