Fake Date, Real Fate Chapter 35: When Business Meets Emotions

I closed the door to his office behind and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My fingers still tingled from clutching that contract. My heels clicked sharply against the floor as I walked away—faster than necessary, but I needed space. Air. Distance.

Because honestly... what the hell?

A pretend girlfriend? A contracted pretend girlfriend? And he expected to just nod and smile and sign away my life for three months?

I rubbed my temple. Did he think I was desperate? Or bored? Or so easily manipulated?

I got back to my desk, flopped into my chair and stared at my computer screen. I couldn’t focus. My stomach twisted—not from nerves, but from this awful sense that he thought I’d say yes without a second thought.

And that’s what bothered the most.

He didn’t even try to convince . Just dropped the offer on the table like it was inevitable.

God. The audacity.

ADRIEN’S POV

She said no.

She actually said no.

I stood there behind my desk, staring at the empty chair she’d just vacated. My jaw locked. One hand dropped to the desk, the other balled at my side.

That... wasn’t part of the plan.

Isabella was supposed to say yes. Hell, I designed that contract with her in mind. No strings. No complications. Just business. And I even added benefits. More than generous compensation. She of all people should’ve—

I ran a hand down my face and cursed under my breath.

She turned down.

The gold digger turned down.

I hated how that made my chest tighten.

I sat down, slowly. The room felt unusually quiet. My fingers tapped against the contract still lying on the desk.

What kind of ga was she playing?

Or worse... what if she wasn’t playing at all?

What if she really didn’t want anything from ?

No. That didn’t make sense.

This girl... she’s confusing as hell. Infuriating. Unpredictable. And now, even more interesting than before.

I yanked my phone off the desk and hit Caron’s na.

He picked up after two rings.

"Yo."

"She said no."

"What do you an, she said no?"

"I proposed a contract to her."

There was silence on the line.

"I’m gonna need more than that," Caron said.

So I told him everything─how I’d drawn it all up, laid it out clean, logical, businesslike. No ssy feelings. Just a deal. A fake relationship to keep my mother off my back. And how Isabella without flinching had turned it down flat.

When I finished, all I got was pure silence. For about three seconds.

Then Caron burst out laughing.

Full, loud, echo-through-the-phone laughter.

"You’re joking," he said between gasps. "You actually offered her a contract and she turned you down?"

"Yes."

"Holy shit. I wish I were there to see your face."

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, jaw tight. "This isn’t funny."

"It’s so funny man. You really thought you could just throw a piece of paper at her and she’d go, ’Oh sure, sign up sir’?"

I frowned. "Isn’t that what gold diggers do?"

Caron’s laughter cut off. "Adrien... are you sure she’s a gold digger?"

"Yes," I said tightly. "I know the signs. That’s how that girl acted."

Another pause.

"This again," Caron muttered. "Look... I know what that girl did to you back then. But Isabella isn’t her. At least, she doesn’t seem like it."

"She works for . She let buy her things. She─"

"So? That’s your logic? She accepted a dress you offered─like what, once because you had to take her for your family dinner? And suddenly she’s the villain of your trauma flashbacks?"

I said nothing. My fingers tapped the desk rhythmically.

"You’re reaching," Caron continued. "And honestly? If you’re so sure she’s in it for the money, why offer her anything? Why not just let her hang herself with her own greed?"

"I did. I offered the contract. She rejected it."

"...Damn."

There was another silence. Then Caron spoke, quieter now. "You know... if this Isabella girl’s still got your head screwed sideways, I could dig her up. Just say the word."

I hesitated. Then, "No. Not yet."

"Alright. But listen man," he said. "If you do want her to agree to that contract, stop treating her like a loophole. She’s not a problem to be solved. Talk to her. Like a person."

"You want to convince her to be my fake girlfriend?"

"That’s how the world works Adrien. Not everyone moves for money. So people move for aning."

I didn’t respond.

Caron sighed. "Maybe she’s not the one playing gas."

He hung up.

And I just sat there, my phone still in my hand.

Staring at the screen.

Damn it.

ISABELLA’S POV

By the ti I shut the office door behind , it was already 7 p.m. Naturally, Adrien "I have no concept of ti" Walton decided that then was the perfect mont to wrap things up. My shoulders were stiff, my spine felt fused in place, and my heels? Pure dieval torture, like tiny instrunts of war masquerading as footwear.

And worst of all? My brain was still turning, replaying that completely insane conversation over and over like a broken record that refused to stop.

The mont I stepped into the apartnt, I called out, "Dad, I’m ho!"

"Aw, my princess," ca his warm and familiar voice from the kitchen. "How was work today?"

"It was... fine," I said, pausing mid-step to collect myself. "Where’s Leo ?"

He shrugged from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. "No clue. Probably burning daylight on the basketball court again. But Aria’s here-she’s been in your room for the past hour like she pays rent."

Of course she had.

Dragging my dead limbs down the hallway, I nudged my bedroom door open and-

There she was.

Aria.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed like a queen on a throne, a bowl of popcorn cradled in her lap, her face glowing from the screen of her laptop as so poor guy in a K-drama cried in the rain.

The mont she saw , she gasped with theatrical horror. "Oh my God. Why do you look like soone just handed you a coffin and said, ’It’s yours now’?"

I didn’t answer. I just dropped my bag like a boulder, kicked off my heels like they were cursed, and collapsed face-first into the little two-seater couch by the wall with the energy of a tragic ghost.

"I think I just got offered the weirdest job of my entire life," I mumbled into the cushion.

That made her pause the episode, which said a lot.

"Spill," she demanded, straightening as if she were on jury duty.

I pushed myself up, rubbing my face as if I could wipe the last hour out of existence. "Adrien called into his office today. Closed the blinds. Told to sit. I thought I was about to be fired."

Aria leaned forward, popcorn forgotten. "And?"

"And then he goes-’Can you pretend to be my girlfriend for three months?’" I mimicked, deadpan. "Like he was asking to refill the coffee machine."

Her mouth fell open. "Wait... what?"

I nodded slowly, letting my head fall back against the cushion. "Yup."

"Is this a joke? Like, are you pranking ? Because if you are, 10/10 delivery, I’m horrified."

"I wish I were joking. But no. Dead serious. The man had a whole contract printed out and ready to go."

She blinked. "A contract?"

"Yup. No feelings. No touching. No personal lives crossing into this fantasy. If either party breaches the terms, there’s a penalty fee."

Aria stared at as if I had sohow grown a third arm. "So... let get this straight. This emotionally frozen billionaire basically asked you to be his girlfriend-on paper-like it was a business rger?"

I nodded again, dead-eyed. "And he said I was the perfect candidate."

Her jaw dropped again. "Girl. That ans he has been thinking about this."

I groaned, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and clutching it to my chest. "I don’t know whether to be flattered or deeply, deeply concerned."

She narrowed her eyes, arms crossed. "Okay, but seriously-why does he need a fake girlfriend? What’s the catch?"

I sighed. "He wouldn’t tell . Just said it was none of my business."

Aria scoffed. "Oh, that’s cute. So he wants you to drop your entire identity and play Barbie Dream Date for him, but you don’t get any context? That’s not just a red flag-that’s a red carpet of flags."

I groaned into the pillow. "And guess what I said?"

She gave a look. "Please tell you said no."

"I said no," I confird. "I don’t care if he’s rich, powerful, or allergic to emotions. I’m not selling myself off like so knockoff actress in a Hallmark movie."

A beat passed. Then Aria grinned. "Well... you did say he was hot."

I threw the pillow at her face. "Don’t make regret telling you."