Cracks in the Facade

Saturday morning came too early. The sunlight spilled through the tall windows, sharp and unrelenting, just like the growing weight in my chest. I lay still for a long moment, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the memories of last night swirling in my mind like smoke. The courthouse wedding was today—4 p.m. sharp. But did I really feel ready?

My phone buzzed beside me. I grabbed it, thumb hovering over the screen. Messages from friends, family, reporters. Another message from Harper popped up.

Harper: "Emma, I know we said June, but... we need to delay the project further. I'm sorry."

I sighed, swallowing the disappointment like a bitter pill.

My fingers tightened around the phone. I stared at the words until they blurred.

A knock interrupted my thoughts. Jason's voice followed it in—soft, and careful.

"Emma? Coffee's here."

I slid out of bed and walked to the door to open it. He stood there, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans - which is way out of his formal outfits I've seen him in all the time, - carrying two cups, the steam rising like a fragile hope.

"Thanks," I said, taking the cup. The warmth was a small comfort.

He lingered by the doorway. "You look tired."

I shrugged, trying to sound lighter than I felt. "Just thinking about today."

He nodded slowly, leaning against the doorframe of the guest room. "It'll be over before you know it."

"I'm not sure what I'm hoping for."

Jason's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I began, "I signed the contract because of Lily. Because I needed help. But now it's like I'm trapped in this… image. And the more I try to be Emma Carlisle, the less I know who she really is."

He looked away for a moment, then met my gaze. "You're not trapped."

"Then why does it feel like I'm suffocating?"

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced down but said nothing.

"Something else?" I asked.

Jason hesitated. "The foundation board wants assurances. More public appearances. More control."

I blinked. "More control?"

He sighed. "It's business, Emma."

"Business," I echoed bitterly. "But what about me?"

Jason stepped fully into the room and reached for my hand, but I pulled back. "I have to visit Lily."

He nodded. "I'll drive."

We arrived at the hospital and this time it smelled like antiseptic and hope. Lily's pale face lit up when she saw me.

"Emma!" she whispered. "Did you see the photos? You look so beautiful. Like a princess."

I forced a smile. "Thanks, Lily. It was... something."

She reached for my hand. "I'm proud of you. You deserve happiness."

I blinked back tears. "I'm trying."

After a moment, I asked softly, "How are you feeling today?"

"Better. But the doctors say I need rest."

I swallowed hard. "I have to tell you something." But the words wouldn't come. My throat felt tight, like I was holding back a storm I wasn't ready to release.

Lily's eyes searched mine, soft and steady. "Whatever it is, I'm here."

Her grip on my hand tightened just a little, as if to anchor me in place. I wanted to believe her, to spill everything—the contract, the lies, the façade I was living—but fear wrapped itself around my heart. What if telling her broke the fragile hope she clung to?

I took a shaky breath and forced a small smile. "It's just… complicated."

She gave a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to carry it alone."

I looked away for a moment, tracing the sterile hospital ceiling with my eyes. The hum of machines and distant footsteps filled the silence, reminding me how much life was moving around us—even as mine felt stuck in this impossible place.

Finally, I met her gaze again. "I'm scared, Lily. That everything I'm doing, it's not really me. That I'm losing myself."

She reached up, brushing a stray hair from my forehead. "Emma, you're the strongest person I know. You're not losing yourself. You're fighting for us. For me."

Her words, full of quiet faith, made the lump in my throat tighten further, but I nodded. Maybe that was enough for now.

Back at the penthouse, my phone rang. It was my client.

"Hey, Harper..."

"Sorry to cut in Emma, but we can't move forward with the project. Your... situation has caused too much uncertainty."

I argued, voice cracking. "I can still deliver quality work."

"Sorry. It's not personal."

And with that Harper immediately hung up after saying that, the sting sharp and final.

Jason appeared in the living room, folding his arms. "We need to talk."

I looked up from my phone, heart sinking. "Is this about the itinerary again?"

He hesitated. "Partly. But more than that…"

I cut him off, voice sharp. "Is this the cost? Having to play 'pretend' wife so you can keep your business running?"

Jason frowned, confusion flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

I slammed my phone down. "My client. The one I've been working with for months? Just called. At first she postponed the project indefinitely till June, and now she immediately cancels the project completely. Said my situation is causing uncertainty and saying that it's nothing "personal"."

His expression tightened. "That's unfortunate."

"Unfortunate?" I echoed, disbelief rising. "That client was important. Not just some gig I picked up to pay bills."

Jason ran a hand through his hair. "Emma, this is the price of the life you're stepping into."

I stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as I pushed it back. "Price? You say that like I was given a choice. Like I agreed to be 'welcomed' into your world."

I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and ugly. "But I wasn't. You didn't ask me. You just - shoved me into it. Like I'm another asset to manage. Another business problem to solve." I turned to go to the guest room.

He looked tired, eyes heavy. "Welcome to my world."

I whipped around to face him, my voice cracking as I shouted, "No, Jason. You don't get to say that. I wasn't welcomed. I was consumed. Swallowed whole by your press team, your schedule, your lies. And you just stood there like that was normal."

He opened his mouth to respond, but I didn't give him the chance. It all came spilling out.

"You know what that client meant to me? That wasn't just a project. That wasn't just fonts and colors and Instagram mockups. That was Harper Greene. One of the biggest names in sustainable fashion. She found me - me - without any agency, without some networking event or referral. Said my portfolio had 'undeniable voice.' Said I had a vision. She trusted me to launch her new brand identity from scratch."

Jason went still.

"It was going to be a full campaign. Product lines. Packaging. Magazine features. My name on every single one of them. It would've put me on the map. My name, my work. Finally seen. And now?"

I pointed at him like he was the headline. "Now I'm just 'Jason Blackwood's mystery fiancée.' A hashtag. A body in your photos. Do you even know how hard it is to be a woman in design? I've had clients flirt with me, steal my work, underpay me, scam me - and I stayed. I kept going. And this? This was the one thing I'd built that was mine."

I took a shaky breath, my voice rising again. "But it didn't fit your narrative. So now it's gone. Because you needed someone to put a ring on, change their entire life and career to being a 'philanthropic' and to sit still and look pretty next to you at charity galas."

He stepped forward. "Emma, I didn't intend for—"

"You didn't think at all!" I cut him off, tears hot against my cheeks. "You didn't think about what this would take from me. You just assumed I'd fold into your world and be fine. And guess what, Jason? I'm not fine."

He stared at me. For the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes—something that looked a lot like guilt.

"I worked for years," I said, softer now, but shaking. "Every night Lily was asleep, I was at my desk. Trying. Just trying to matter. To make something of myself. To build a future without begging for it."

I wiped a tear away furiously. "And you - you - took that future and turned it into a press release."

He was silent. A breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, I thought he might actually apologize.

But then he straightened, colder than before, voice low. "You made a choice. Don't forget that."

My chest rose and fell, stunned. And just like that, he turned and walked away—leaving me standing in the center of his sleek, sterile penthouse. Furious. Broken. Alone.

Lunch was silent except for the clink of cutlery against the plate. I pushed my food around, eyes fixed on Jason as he stared straight ahead, calm and unreadable.

Finally, I couldn't hold it in. "Why did you really ask me to marry you?"

He didn't answer right away. His fingers paused over the glass of water before he spoke, voice low. "Because I needed someone real."

I blinked. "But are you real, Jason?"

He gave a small, humorless laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm more real than most people think."

"Sometimes it feels like you're a stranger," I said, voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned forward, gaze steady and sharp. "Maybe I am."

I met his eyes, daring him to say more. "Then why let me in at all?"

His expression softened just a fraction. "Because you're the only one who can break through."

The words hung between us—fragile, raw, and more vulnerable than anything he'd ever said before.

Later, as I unlocked the guest room door, something caught my eye—an envelope slipped just under the crack. No name. No return address.

My fingers trembled as I picked it up and peeled it open.

Inside was a single note, scrawled in hurried handwriting: "Trust no one. Not even him."

My breath caught in my throat.

Who sent this? What did they know? How did they get in?

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, staring out at the city skyline. The courthouse wedding was just hours away. But something told me—the real test was only just beginning.