Who’s real? Who’s not? Emilia Janice Carter, the poor bakery owner, or Emily Margaux Vanderbilt, the estranged daughter of billionaire couple Genevieve and Andrew Vanderbilt?The headline loops in my mind, over and over, like a bad dream I can’t wake up from.My stomach twists violently, and I hunch over the toilet, retching.Liam is right beside me, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on my back, the other holding my hair away from my face. His touch is steady and reassuring, but I can hear the worry in his voice.“Breathe, love. Just breathe.”I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t breathe.Because it’s out now.The truth.The secret I’ve spent years protecting.Exposed for the whole world to see.Liam helps me up and I stand in front of the mirror, leaning onto the sink for support. I open the tap, rinse my mouth and face. My movements are automated and I can vaguely feel Liam let go of me.Then I hear the sound of the toilet flush.My chest tightens.The air feels too thick, too heav
LIAMIs this what people mean by saved by the bell?Because in no universe do I want to talk about what Jess means to me right now. Not with Emilia. Not when I can’t even explain the dark, ugly feeling that sank its claws into my chest the second I saw that headline. The second Emilia broke down in my arms.Like there wasn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do to make whoever wrote that article pay.And they will pay. Even if it’s the last thing I do.I push off the bed and grab the chocolate-stained containers from Emilia’s hands. I can’t help but smirk. She eats like a chipmunk, cheeks puffed, a little smear of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. The sight makes something tight in my chest loosen just a little.Knock. Knock.The sound cuts through the room. Again. I can already feel a headache coming. Hopefully, the intruder will realise they’re really not wanted and turn back around or whatever.I sigh. “How about you go wash up? I’ll get the door.”She nods, looking almost relieved that
BECCASometimes, I wonder why I even try.A year and a half ago, I stared down at those two pink lines, my hands shaking, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I was finally going to be a mother. Just like I’d always dreamed of.But dreams are funny things, aren’t they?Because the reality was nothing like the fairytale I’d imagined.The father of my baby — the man I loved — wasn't the man I thought he was. He hadn’t just broken up with his girlfriend of ten years like he’d claimed. No, he was still with her. Still choosing her.But he had an excuse, of course. She’s fragile, he told me. If I leave too soon, she might do something to herself. Just be patient, Becca. Just wait.So I did.I counted the days, the weeks, the months, waiting for the moment he’d finally be mine.But when my belly grew and my career stalled, when I had to disappear from the world to hide my pregnancy — where was he then?Not with me.I gave up job offers. I went on a year-long hiatus. I spent m
EMILIALiam has been gone longer than I expected.I frown. Didn’t he just go to get the door? It shouldn’t take this long.I try not to let my mind spiral, but it’s hard when everything seems to be crashing down around me.First, Stone and all the memories he dragged back into my life. Now, this — my family’s name, plastered across the internet like a headline in some twisted fairy tale.I force myself to move. I slip into the bathroom, letting the hot water run over me, washing away the weight in my chest. I focus on breathing, on standing still, on the small victory of not collapsing under the pressure of everything that’s gone wrong.I try not to think about the last time I spoke to my family.My mother’s voice, sharp and unrelenting. My father’s heavy silence, his disappointment louder than any words he could have said. My younger sister’s glare, filled with a resentment I fully understand.I shut my eyes. Think of the good things, Em. Don’t drown in everything that’s happened.By
I devoted ten years of my life to the only man I've ever loved, my ex-fiancé, Zane Whitmoore. Since our eighth grade in middle school, I was always by his side. I shaped myself into the perfect woman for him. I kept my black curls cut short, just the way he liked. I never wore makeup. I dressed in outfits he approved of because he didn't like when other men looked at me. For ten years, I did everything he wanted. I was going to be his wife. Everyone knew we were meant to be. So it made no sense when, six months ago, he threw it all away. "What did you say?" My voice was barely above a whisper. Zane stared at me across the restaurant table, his expression unreadable. I had made this reservation months ago for our ten-year anniversary. "I think we should break up," he said. I blinked. My heart pounded in my chest. "Zane, is this supposed to be a joke? Because it's not funny, babe." "I'm not joking, Emilia." "No, you have to be joking!" My voice rose slightly, and I glanced aro
It's been six months since Zane left me. At first, I didn't take it well. He kicked me out, and I had nowhere to go until Tessa, my best friend, booked me the first flight to NYC and forced me to stay with her. I spent nights crashing on her couch, crying in the bathroom when she was at work. I ignored the little bakery - Tessa and I named it The Whimsy Bakehouse after getting smashingly drunk one night in college and having what she called a crazy epiphany - Zane had opened for me after he got his first NHL paycheck for weeks. I couldn't bring myself to step inside. Then Tessa got fed up. She called me a couch potato, said I was wasting my tears on an 'asshole jerk,' and dragged me back to work. Unlearning ten years of habits hasn't been easy. Some nights, I still catch myself staring at my phone, waiting for a message that will never come. Waiting for Zane to say he made a mistake. That he wants me back. But he never does. Not even in my dreams. It's Friday and I'm at the ba
I hum softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Hello to you too. You can sit down while I make the coffee. A flat white with cinnamon on top, right?" She grins. "I love you, you know me so well." She groans and slumps into a chair, resting her arm on the table and propping her head up with her hand. I start making our coffees but glance at the clock with a frown. "It's just 10 AM, Tess. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?" She sighs loudly. "Yes, I should. But I'm burnt out. Had to get off early." I raise an eyebrow as I begin kneading dough. Rush hour hits by noon, and I need to work quickly. "Work emergency?" "When is it ever anything else? It's not even counted as an emergency today. Usually, the whole team gives me problems, but this time, it's just one person!" Here we go again. "His name's... Leon, right?" I ask, trying to remember. She raises an eyebrow at me. "Good try, but you should know better. I've complained about him so much, he should be a house
When I first moved into Tessa's apartment, two thoughts hit me. One: Tessa was just as high maintenance as she'd been in college. Everything in her place screamed luxury. High-end furniture, designer décor, the kind of perfectly curated space that made you wonder if people actually lived there. I was happy she had a job that let her maintain the lifestyle. Two: Tessa's apartment was the most comfortable place in the world to feel like shit. Even though she had decorated a guest room just for me, I spent most of my worst nights on her couch, wrapped in an overpriced throw blanket, drinking wine straight from the bottle. And now, as I stare at the notification on my phone, I know exactly what I need to do. I walk into Tessa's kitchen, grab a bottle of red wine, some expensive brand I don't recognize, and collapse onto her couch. Popping the cork, I take a long gulp before daring to look at my phone again. For months, I wanted this. I prayed for him to reach out. Now, it's the last
EMILIALiam has been gone longer than I expected.I frown. Didn’t he just go to get the door? It shouldn’t take this long.I try not to let my mind spiral, but it’s hard when everything seems to be crashing down around me.First, Stone and all the memories he dragged back into my life. Now, this — my family’s name, plastered across the internet like a headline in some twisted fairy tale.I force myself to move. I slip into the bathroom, letting the hot water run over me, washing away the weight in my chest. I focus on breathing, on standing still, on the small victory of not collapsing under the pressure of everything that’s gone wrong.I try not to think about the last time I spoke to my family.My mother’s voice, sharp and unrelenting. My father’s heavy silence, his disappointment louder than any words he could have said. My younger sister’s glare, filled with a resentment I fully understand.I shut my eyes. Think of the good things, Em. Don’t drown in everything that’s happened.By
BECCASometimes, I wonder why I even try.A year and a half ago, I stared down at those two pink lines, my hands shaking, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I was finally going to be a mother. Just like I’d always dreamed of.But dreams are funny things, aren’t they?Because the reality was nothing like the fairytale I’d imagined.The father of my baby — the man I loved — wasn't the man I thought he was. He hadn’t just broken up with his girlfriend of ten years like he’d claimed. No, he was still with her. Still choosing her.But he had an excuse, of course. She’s fragile, he told me. If I leave too soon, she might do something to herself. Just be patient, Becca. Just wait.So I did.I counted the days, the weeks, the months, waiting for the moment he’d finally be mine.But when my belly grew and my career stalled, when I had to disappear from the world to hide my pregnancy — where was he then?Not with me.I gave up job offers. I went on a year-long hiatus. I spent m
LIAMIs this what people mean by saved by the bell?Because in no universe do I want to talk about what Jess means to me right now. Not with Emilia. Not when I can’t even explain the dark, ugly feeling that sank its claws into my chest the second I saw that headline. The second Emilia broke down in my arms.Like there wasn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do to make whoever wrote that article pay.And they will pay. Even if it’s the last thing I do.I push off the bed and grab the chocolate-stained containers from Emilia’s hands. I can’t help but smirk. She eats like a chipmunk, cheeks puffed, a little smear of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. The sight makes something tight in my chest loosen just a little.Knock. Knock.The sound cuts through the room. Again. I can already feel a headache coming. Hopefully, the intruder will realise they’re really not wanted and turn back around or whatever.I sigh. “How about you go wash up? I’ll get the door.”She nods, looking almost relieved that
Who’s real? Who’s not? Emilia Janice Carter, the poor bakery owner, or Emily Margaux Vanderbilt, the estranged daughter of billionaire couple Genevieve and Andrew Vanderbilt?The headline loops in my mind, over and over, like a bad dream I can’t wake up from.My stomach twists violently, and I hunch over the toilet, retching.Liam is right beside me, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on my back, the other holding my hair away from my face. His touch is steady and reassuring, but I can hear the worry in his voice.“Breathe, love. Just breathe.”I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t breathe.Because it’s out now.The truth.The secret I’ve spent years protecting.Exposed for the whole world to see.Liam helps me up and I stand in front of the mirror, leaning onto the sink for support. I open the tap, rinse my mouth and face. My movements are automated and I can vaguely feel Liam let go of me.Then I hear the sound of the toilet flush.My chest tightens.The air feels too thick, too heav
I stare at the bed.The one bed.The undeniably soft, luxurious, way-too-small-for-this-situation bed.But it’s still just one bed.I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.Logically, I should have expected this. It makes no sense for them to give us separate beds, but my cheeks still heat up at the thought of…Of…Sharing a bed with Liam.No matter how natural and easy things have felt between us, it doesn’t change the fact that this relationship is fake. Just words on paper. A contract.So why does that thought make my stomach twist in a way I can’t explain?Liam, of course, is completely unbothered. He scans the room, taking in the luxury like he actually expected something worse. Then, to my absolute horror, he leans against the doorway, grinning like this is the funniest thing to ever happen.“They really went all out, huh?” He chuckles. “Maybe we should send them a thank-you card. This surpassed my every expectation.”I gape at him. We are not thinking about the same thing right no
EMILIA Evening comes around faster than I expect, and to my absolute horror, Liam and I are forced to drag ourselves to the deck for some grand announcement from the soon-to-be-weds. I feel like I’ve said this a million times, but the cruise is massive — so big that the thirty-something guests on board feel like a drop in the ocean. Either they’re too busy lounging in their luxury suites, avoiding Liam and me, or this ship is just that enormous, because after running into Stone, we don’t see a single familiar face. Not that I’m complaining. Liam’s hand is warm in mine as we make our way to the deck, his thumb tracing idle circles against my skin like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. I don’t know if it’s meant to be comforting or if he just likes touching me, but either way, it’s convincing enough. My heart shouldn’t be beating this fast from something so simple. “Remind me again why we’re going to this thing?” I mumble, leaning into him slightly. “Because we’re technical
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Liam gently rubs his thumb over my knuckles. The anger, the fire — I felt invincible a second ago, but now? Now, my hands feel ice cold.“You okay?” Liam asks, voice low.I nod. Then I lie. “Yeah.”But when he tugs me closer, when I feel the warmth of him against me, something cracks deep inside my chest.It’s not just the name-calling. It’s not just being labeled the hockey slut or called a puck bunny. It’s the way that’s all I’ve ever been treated like.Wanting to stay by Zane’s side turned into years of watching my autonomy slip through my fingers, piece by piece. And I let it happen — because I was so convinced that the ring on my finger, his last name next to mine, would make it all worth it. That losing myself would somehow be worth it.I didn’t want to be just Zane’s pocket girlfriend, always by his side, on every plane to his games, tucked away in every hotel room in case he needed a release.It was so fucking exhausting.Pretending to hate gi
The staff takes care of our luggage, wheeling it away toward the cabins. But since they’re off-limits until midnight, Liam and I are left with nothing to do. It doesn’t take much to convince me to go exploring with him, so we run off the second we can and leave Becca and Zane to their own world. I thought the ship was massive when I first stepped on, but now, as I take it all in, I realize I underestimated just how big it really is. It’s gorgeous, but also overwhelming. Like a city floating on water. There are three floors above the one we’re currently walking through, and if the rest of the ship looks anything like this, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. We’re at the atrium now, and it’s breathtaking. A massive glass dome stretches above us, letting the last bits of sunlight pour through. There’s a grand staircase in the center, wide and elegant, leading to the upper decks. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a golden glow over everything. Soft music plays in the back
EMILIA He’s standing near the entrance, laughing at something one of his friends said. Becca is tucked into his side, she’s practically glowing with happiness. Her smile is so breathtaking it knocks the breath out of my lungs.She looks beautiful, but for once, that painful knot of jealousy in my chest that grows around a beautiful woman doesn’t come. Not even a little.Not like it used to.I think back on how insecure I used to be around Tessa. Sometimes it’s hard not to be, but I don’t find myself comparing my every flaw to her perfections anymore.Or maybe it’s because I tossed out the maternity gowns Zane loved to stuff me into and finally started doing what I want. Wearing clothes I like, putting on makeup because I want to.A smile tugs at my lips.But before it can fully form, Zane looks up.And freezes.I can see shock take over him like a bucket of ice-cold water dumped over his head. He looks at me from head to toe, like he can’t quite trust his eyes.It must be horrible, k