Fake Date, Real Fate Chapter 138: The Softest Setup

I had just returned from the break room, clutching a fresh cup of coffee and ntally listing the reports I still needed to finalize, when my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen.

Unknown Number.

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button. Then I swiped.

"Hello?"

"Isabella, darling!" a familiar, elegant voice purred through the line. "It’s Elise—Adrien’s mother."

I blinked. "Oh! Elise! Hi—I—" I sat up straighter in my seat. "I wasn’t expecting—"

"I know, I know," she said warmly, "and that’s entirely my fault. I’ve been aning to call you for weeks now—can you believe it’s been over a month since our lunch?"

"Has it really?" I asked, caught off guard. "It doesn’t feel like—"

"I know," she cut in gently. "Ti’s a thief. But I’ve been thinking of you, I promise. I should have reached out sooner. what kind of future mother-in-law lets this much ti pass?"

My brain short-circuited. Future mother-in-law?!

I laughed nervously. "It’s okay. Things have been... busy."

"I’m sure they have. But I’ve missed you, sweetheart. And it’s long overdue that we fix that."

My grip on the phone tightened. "Fix that?" I echoed, my voice a pitch higher than usual.

"Well, of course," Elise chirped, completely at ease. "Adrien has been monopolizing you, which is understandable, I suppose. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to be selfish."

There was a rustling sound in the background—like she was flipping through papers or tapping on her tablet.

"Actually," she said brightly, "I was calling to ask what you’re doing after work today."

"Oh, nothing really," I replied before I could stop myself. "Just finishing up reports and maybe falling into bed like a corpse."

She chuckled. "How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" I echoed, already thinking about my calendar. "I’m... not sure. I haven’t looked yet—"

"Check for ," she said sweetly. "Or better yet, cancel it."

I blinked. "I—sorry?"

Elise chuckled. "I’m being pushy, aren’t I? My apologies. Let rephrase." Her tone turned playful. "Please cancel your schedule tomorrow. Just for one day. I promise I won’t keep you too long. I’ve already made arrangents—spa, lunch, maybe a little boutique stroll if we’re feeling dangerous."

A beat of silence.

I laughed, caught between flattered and mildly panicked. "I—uh, I don’t think Adrien will be too thrilled if I disappear all day..."

"Oh, please. Let handle Adrien," she said smoothly, with all the confidence of a woman who had been handling him since birth. "I’ll text him myself. He’ll grumble, but he won’t stop ."

I almost choked on my own breath. "You’re going to tell Adrien I’m not coming in tomorrow?"

Elise let out a soft, knowing laugh. "Oh, Isabella, my dear. Trust on this. I’ve raised scarier n than Adrien."

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

"I’ll have the driver pick you up by ten," she went on, as if the matter had already been decided. "We’ll do brunch, sothing indulgent. Spa if you like. I’ve been dying to visit this little perfury in the Arts District. Very exclusive. They hand-blend scents based on your personality. Isn’t that delicious?"

It sounded dangerously like heaven. I hesitated only a second.

"Okay," I said quietly, smiling into the phone. "Ten sounds good."

"Wonderful!" Her voice turned even warr, if that was possible. "Wear sothing soft. And comfortable. Not corporate. Not black. You’re not walking into one of Adrien’s board etings."

"Got it," I said, biting back a laugh. "Nothing terrifyingly professional."

She paused. "How are you, Isabella? Really."

I blinked startled. "I’m... I’m okay."

"Just okay?"

I hesitated. "Well. A lot’s changed. But I think... I think I’m finding my footing."

"You always do," she said gently. "And I want to be there while you do it."

I stared at the wall, stunned into silence by how easy it was to like her. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel that familiar whisper of caution flutter in my chest—like a ghost of reality tapping on the glass. This is Adrien’s mother. Adrien Walton’s. I was still adjusting to the fact that he was mine, much less that she was calling like I was family.

Still.

She made it feel easy. Like maybe this new life I was stepped into wasn’t so impossible after all.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart."

Click.

I stared at my phone for a long mont after the call ended.

And then opened my calendar... and cleared the entire day.

*****

Later that night, after the dishes were done and Leo was finally out of the living room, I curled up on the couch, legs tucked under , wearing Adrien’s sweatshirt—because apparently, that was my new comfort item. It slled like him. Looked like him too, all black and broody and expensive.

The only light ca from the warm glow of the kitchen and the faint blue shimr of my phone screen as Aria’s face popped up on video.

She waved a spoon of cereal at . "Okay, tell everything." she said, no hello, no preamble—just war-cri-level urgency in her voice. "You were supposed to call hours ago, traitor."

"I know," I said. "Today has been... long."

"Long like you-saw-him-shirtless-again long, or long like emotional-damage long?"

"Both."

"Oooh. Continue."

I rubbed my face and exhaled. "So... rember that woman from the boutique yesterday?"

"The one who called you invisible and said I was a ’mouthy sidekick’?" Aria said, narrowing her eyes. "Yes. Vividly. I’m still planning a coback in case I see her again."

"Well, you won’t have to wait long," I muttered. "I t her again."

Aria lowered her spoon, her eyes imdiately sharp. "Wait. What do you an again? Where? Don’t tell she ca to the office—"

"She works there," I said flatly. "Interning or sothing."

Aria’s face scrunched in confusion. "Wait, wait, back up. You’re telling that boutique viper now works in your company?"

I nodded.

Aria blinked. "Okay... and?"

"She introduced herself as Clara. Clara Langford."

"Okay..."

"When Adrien first told about her, I didn’t realize she was that Clara. I didn’t connect the dots until I t her properly today."

Aria arched a brow. "So let get this straight. You t his childhood friend—who also insulted us at a boutique—and now she’s working with you?"

"Working next to , actually," I muttered, groaning as I dropped my head back against the couch cushion.

Aria winced. "Yikes."

"She didn’t act like she rembered at first," I continued, lifting my head again. "But then She later said she did," I paused. "She said respected how we stood up to her. That she was impressed."

"Hmm."

"She offered coffee too."

Aria stared.

"Like, good coffee," I added laly.

"Is this a social experint?" Aria asked, deadpan. "Are you sure you’re not on so kind of hidden cara reality show? Because this sounds like a setup."

"That’s what I thought!" I hissed. "But she was actually nice. Like... really nice. Sweet, even. She smiled, complinted ."

"Oh, no." Aria pointed her spoon at the screen like it was a weapon. "Not the specialty chocolate. That’s rich girl bait. You’re being courted, Isabella."

I snorted.

"I’m serious," Aria said. "First they soften you with gourt snacks, then they emotionally destabilize you."

"She wasn’t even mad when she walked in on and Adrien."

"What?"

I winced. "Yeah..."

"Oh my God, you did not just casually throw that in like it wasn’t a nuclear bomb. Back up—she saw you two doing what exactly?"

I buried my face in both hands. "I was... sitting on his lap."

Then Aria actually wheezed. "Isabella."

"I KNOW."

"No, babe. I need visuals. What exactly were you doing on his lap?"

"Nothing!" I said quickly. "Well. Not nothing. But like—not what you’re thinking!"

"Oh, so it was just workplace straddling. Professional, really."

I groaned again. "Can we please skip past the comntary and get to the part where I tell you what happened after?"

Aria, still giggling under her breath, said, "Fine. Go. I’m listening."

"She froze. I froze. Adrien didn’t. He didn’t even move at first. Just calmly told her to leave the files and then told to step out." I sighed. "The man was cool as glacier ice while I was trying to un-die."

Aria winced. "And then?"

"Out loud. In that terrifying cold tone too."

Aria whistled. "Damn. Okay, I take back what I said. That man’s got layers."

I smiled faintly. "Yeah."

"So... what’s Clara’s vibe now? Does she hate you? Did she burn a voodoo doll in the breakroom?"

"She smiled when I ca back to the office," I went on. "Gave chocolate. Talked about being friends because we’re both close to Adrien. Asked for a tour since she’s been away seventeen years. I think she ant it."

Aria stared at like I’d just confessed to befriending a known serial killer.

"Don’t look at like that," I said quickly. "She was sweet, Aria. She even gave a strawberry chocolate bar when I said I didn’t like regular ones."

Aria leaned back slowly, face unreadable.

I waited for the I told you so, or the dramatic gasp, or the sass.

But instead, she tilted her head and said, "Well... if you say she’s nice..."

I blinked.

"Then she’s nice," Aria finished. "I trust you."

I blinked again. "Wait—no suspicious side-eye? No detective notebook?"

She smiled a little. "Don’t get wrong—I’m watching. But I know you, Bella. You’re careful. You don’t warm up to people unless your gut tells you it’s safe. So if your gut says Clara’s not out to sabotage your life..."

"It doesn’t," I said quickly. "Not yet. I an, she’s intense. And a little perfect. But she seed... genuine. I could be wrong but—"

"Then that’s enough for ," Aria said simply, nudging my knee with hers. "Still... just be careful. Not all knives are cold when they’re close."

I smiled at her. "You’re getting poetic again."

"Shut up. I had tea earlier."

I laughed.

"Now... go back to the part where you were sitting on your hot boss boyfriend’s lap."

I groaned. "You’re the worst."

"You love ."

"Unfortunately."

She grinned. "Damn right. Now spill every detail."