Page 134 of Pretend To Be Mine

“Probably,” Mom said with surprising gentleness. “But she’s stronger than you think. She’s handled everything you’ve thrown at her this week. She’ll handle this too.”

I wasn’t so sure. Elizabeth had looked absolutely shattered when she left. Like every dream she’d ever had was turning to ash in front of her eyes.

“Legally, we can sue Clara for defamation,” Briggs said, switching back to lawyer mode. “The engagement might be fake, but she’s making claims about Elizabeth’s character that aren’t true. Gold-digger, social climber, seducer—all provably false. We have the contract showing it was a mutual business arrangement.”

“We could issue a statement,” Dash suggested. “Confirm the engagement was a PR arrangement but clarify it was mutual, professional, not Elizabeth scheming to use Adrian. Make it clear both parties entered into it willingly.”

“That still makes us look like liars who manipulated the public.” I ran my hands through my hair, frustration building. “And it doesn’t help Elizabeth. Everyone will still think she was in on some calculated plan to use me for career advancement.”

“Because she was in on a plan,” Briggs pointed out with his usual brutal honesty. “Just not the one Clara’s describing. She agreed to a business arrangement. The optics are complicated no matter how we frame it.”

“The optics are that she looks like a user and we look like victims,” I snapped. “When the truth is we approached her. We asked her to do this. We created this entire situation.”

“Which is why we need to control the narrative,” Mom interjected. “If we don’t get ahead of this, Clara’s version becomes the accepted truth.”

We went in circles for another hour.

“I need to talk to Elizabeth,” I said finally, unable to stand another minute of circular logic and damage control scenarios.

“She’s probably sleeping.”

“Or she’s avoiding us,” Dash said. “Can’t say I blame her.”

“We’ll reconvene in the morning,” Mom announced, using the tone that meant the discussion was over. “Everyone get some rest. We’ll figure this out with clear heads tomorrow.”

Another driver took me back to the villa, the drive taking twice as long as usual through Milan’s late-night traffic. I rehearsed what I would say on the way.

The villa was dark when I entered. Silent in a way that felt wrong, empty in a way that had nothing to do with the lights being off.

“Elizabeth?”

No response.

I turned on lights, moving through the space. The sitting room was empty. I walked to our bedroom, some part of me already knowing what I’d find.

Bedroom empty. Bathroom untouched. Her suitcase gone. The closet where her clothes had hung was bare. The bathroom counter where her makeup had been scattered was empty now. On the nightstand, a note. My stomach dropped before I even picked it up.

Adrian,

I caught an early flight back to New York. I’m sorry for everything. For the disruption, for the scandal, for not being what you needed me to be.

This was an incredible adventure. You showed me a world I never dreamed I’d see, helped me find confidence I didn’t know I had, pushed me to be a better designer. I’ll always be grateful for that.

I’ll be at the finale on Saturday. I signed a contract, and I keep my commitments. After that, I think it’s best if we keep things professional.

Thank you for everything.

Elizabeth

Next to the note was the engagement ring. I picked up the ring and stared at the diamond.

I walked downstairs to the villa’s bar, poured three fingers of whiskey into a crystal tumbler, and stood at the window overlooking the city lights of Milan.

My brothers and mother would be back soon. For now, I was glad for the alone time. I needed it.

She was gone.

The whiskey burned going down, but not enough to drown out the feelings stewing low in my gut.