He opens his mouth, but Cooper’s look silences him. I can feel all of them watching me, but it’s his eyes that burn the most. The one person I want to see me can't save me from this. I stand there, spine straight and heart breaking, and one thought curls through me like smoke. If this is what survival costs, I hope no one ever calls me lucky again.
I can feel the unbearable weight of his eyes on me, but I keep mine fixed on my hands because if I look up, the fragile composure I’ve pieced together will shatter completely. Every inhale feels like swallowing glass.
I started working for the organization about eighteen months ago, longer than most people remain interns. Anyone else would’ve been offered a full-time position by now, but not me. Not with the past I walked in with. I got the extended probation, the extra oversight, the whisperedlet’s see how she handles thisbefore anyone trusted me with anything that mattered. And I’ve handled everything until I was finally given the opportunity to plan the annual charity gala for a chance to make my position here permanent. And now, in less than twenty-four hours, it feels like all of it is slipping straight through my fingers.
I tuck the resignation letter deeper into my folder, as if hiding it can erase the fact that I almost handed over everything I’ve worked for. “I’ll get started on the draft,” I manage, voice steady enough to sound like it belongs to someone else.
No one stops me as I turn and walk out. The hallway is silent as the door clicks shut behind me. Imake it ten steps before my breath breaks. It comes out in a ragged exhale I can’t pull back.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.
I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing the tears back down. I can’t afford to fall apart here. Not when there are still cameras somewhere in this building. Not when my entire world depends on looking unshakable. My fingers dig into my side where I’ve pressed my hands too tightly against my ribs. I can almost hear my mother’s voice in my head.This is what you wanted, baby. A foot in the door. Don’t give them a reason to close it.
But this isn’t ambition anymore. It’s heartbreak disguised as professionalism. It’s being handed everything I want—him, a chance, a story that almost felt real—and being told I can only have it if I pretend it means nothing. This fake relationship isn’t a lifeline; it’s a cage with a spotlight. And I’m the one who has to build it.
Kyle’s face flashes in my mind, the way he looked at me during the press conference, like he’d burn the world down for me if I let him. And that’s exactly why I can’t let him do it. If I’m not careful, I’ll be the girl who costs Portland their golden boy. The cautionary tale whispered about in locker rooms and comment sections. So, I’ll draw the lines, even when they cut me open, because someone has to protect him from the fallout. If this is what survival looks like, then I guess I’ll learn how to fake it, too. Just when I think I’ve managed to hold myself together, I hear footsteps.
“Kyle, don’t—” Cole’s voice echoes faintly fromdown the hall, followed by a low curse. “Jesus, kid, wait.”
I think about walking faster, pretending I don’t hear him. But I turn before I can talk myself out of it, Kyle’s right there. He’s out of breath, eyes wild with something that looks like fury and heartbreak knotted together. Cole’s a few paces behind, smirking like he expected this exact outcome.
“Alycia.” His voice cracks on my name, “You’re not doing this.”
“Kyle, it’s done.”
“It’s not.” He steps closer, still radiating adrenaline. “You can’t just agree to lie to everyone, including yourself.”
“You think I have a choice?” I let out a hollow laugh that feels like splintered glass.
He frowns, eyes narrowing. “There’s always a choice.”
“Not when I’m the one who’ll take the fall. You’ll get headlines about redemption. I’ll get called a gold digger. The PR intern who couldn’t keep her legs shut.”
His face twists as if the words physically hurt him. “You think I’d let anyone?—”
“You can’t stop them, Kyle.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. “You can’t fix this with a smile. The second this becomes about us, I’m done. If this lie keeps me safe—keeps you safe—then I’ll wear it like armor.”
“You don’t need armor with me.” He shakes his head, disbelieving.
“Maybe not, but I need it everywhere else.”
The silence hums between us, tangled with everything I’m too afraid to say. That I want him. This fake relationship is the cruelest punishment because now I’ll have to spend every day pretending I already have what I can never really keep.
“This isn’t survival,” he says finally, voice low, breaking. “It’s surrender.”
“And what would you call it when the alternative is losing everything?”
He doesn’t answer, and the look in his eyes tells me exactly why. He’d burn everything down before he’d let me fall with it. And that’s what terrifies me most because I know he means it.
Cole clears his throat from behind Kyle, the sound breaking through the tension like a slap. “You two done rewritingThe Notebookin the hallway, or should I grab popcorn?”
“You think this is funny?” I shoot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood.
“Funny? No. Predictable? Absolutely.” Kyle shoots him a warning look, but Cole shrugs and continues. “Look, it’s messy, but it gives you both what you want.”
“Whatwewant?” I repeat.
“You keep your job,” he says. “Kyle keeps his career intact. And both of you get a few weeks to figure out… whatever this is.”
