“I have a meeting,” he says.
The words feel unreal after what we just did.He has a meeting? Now?
He turns slightly. “Elliot. Harper.”
Elliot pushes off the window, smooth as ever, stepping forward like this is the part he knows how to do. Harper’s heels click as she moves, her smile polite and perfectly curated.
“Lucy, I am with a PR team that works with Northwell,” Harper says, voice calm. “We’re going to walk you through the narrative, what you say, what you don’t, and how we keep you protected.”
Protected.
From what?
From the world?
From Julian?
Elliot adds, quieter, “This isn’t about turning you into someone else. It’s about making sure everyone is on the same page.”
Harper opens a folder. “We’ll start with the timeline. How you met. How long you’ve been quietly seeing each other. Why you’re private.”
My stomach churns. Because my mother thinks I’m dating him.
Because now I have to make that lie into a public story.
I hear word like 'public displays of affection' and 'making it look legitimate'.
Then a copy of the agreement is slid in front of me as well as a copy of the PR folder.
Julian’s voice cuts in. “Claire will take you home to the penthouse when you’re ready.”
Home.
Notyour apartment.
Home.
Claire steps forward, expression gentle. “Whenever you’re ready, Lucy.”
There’s no pressure in her tone.
Just… understanding.
I nod slowly, because my body can’t decide if it wants to run or collapse.
Julian looks at me again, just once, and something flickers behind his eyes.
I think he might say something, but then he turns away. And I’m left sitting at a table with a ring on my finger, ink drying on a marriage license, and a plan for my life laid out like a press kit.
Harper is still talking.
Elliot is already smoothing the edges.
Claire is waiting to walk me into a penthouse that i've never been to but is meant to be my home now.
And all I can think is:
This is real.
