I look at her, trying to read her expression in the dim light from the street lamps. “Why are you asking?”
“I want to make sure we’re both still on the same page.”
“We are. Aren’t we?”
She nods, but it doesn’t look convincing. “Good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She gets out of the car and heads into her building without looking back, leaving me sitting alone wondering what justhappened. Twenty minutes ago we were laughing about mini golf and sharing ice cream. Now she’s acting like this is all some burden she has to bear.
My phone buzzes with a text from Carson as I’m pulling away from Freya’s building: “Call me. We have a problem.”
I call him from my car, using the hands-free system.
“What’s the problem?”
“There are some posts online,” he says without preamble. “YouTube videos, TikToks, Twitter threads. People are questioning whether your engagement is real.”
My blood goes cold. “What kind of posts?”
“Body language analysis. Timeline speculation. Someone did a whole video about how you two don’t touch each other naturally, how your engagement photos look staged. There’s a thread on Reddit with like three thousand comments debating whether this is a publicity stunt.”
I pull over to the side of the road, needing to focus entirely on this conversation. “How bad is it?”
“Right now it’s mostly confined to social media conspiracy theorists, but it’s gaining traction. If it hits mainstream media…”
“It could destroy everything.” I finish the thought he doesn’t want to say out loud.
“Exactly. Ben, if people start seriously questioning this engagement, it’s not just about the Red Dawson deal anymore. Your entire reputation is on the line. If this comes out as fake, you’ll be seen as dishonest, manipulative?—”
“I get it, Carson.”
“The good news is that we can still control this. We need to flood the narrative with evidence of your relationship. More public appearances, more intimate moments, more proof that this is real.”
More intimate moments. More performance. More of whatever was bothering Freya tonight.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that you and Freya need to start acting like a couple who are genuinely in love. Not just for staged photos, but all the time. Every public appearance, every interaction where someone might be watching. You need to be inseparable.”
“Carson.”
“I’m serious, Ben. These people are looking for cracks in the story. If they find them, this whole thing comes crashing down.”
After Carson hangs up, I sit in my car for a long time, watching Freya’s building, noting that her studio light is on.
I drive home to my empty penthouse, where I can see the city spread out below me like a board game. From up here, everything looks manageable, controllable.
But I’m starting to realize that some things, like internet conspiracy theories and Freya’s growing distance and my own confused feelings, are completely beyond my control.
CHAPTER 13
FREYA
I’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, watching the morning light creep across the plaster through my thin curtains. Sleep finally abandoned me around five AM, leaving me alone with thoughts I’ve been trying to avoid for weeks.
Last night was supposed to be simple. Mini golf, ice cream, social media content. A fake date for a fake engagement with predetermined outcomes and carefully managed emotions.
Instead, it felt real. Too real.
