Fake Dating - Chapter 4

Raisel’s POV

The tears never seemed to stop, as if they had carved a permanent path down my cheeks. Humiliation burned brighter with each passing day, fed by the hate-filled texts from strangers and the cruel messages from so-called friends who had turned their backs on me. It had been three months since I’d signed the divorce papers, three months of hiding in Soren’s penthouse. Hazel had been kind enough to gather my clothes from my old apartment and bring them to me, but stepping outside felt impossible.

The cozy queen-sized guest room had become my cocoon. Soren had been… incredible. He brought me chocolates, ice cream, and the occasional sarcastic jab to jolt me out of my pity party. The housekeeper cooked meals so delicious I didn’t deserve them, and yet here I was, curled up, an empty shell of the woman I used to be.

“Raisel,” Soren called from the living room. His voice was casual, light, like the weight of my crumbling life didn’t hang in the air between us. I glanced at the doorway and saw him leaning casually, dressed down in a white t-shirt, jacket, and jeans—a rare departure from his usual sharp, corporate look.

“What?” I muttered, not even bothering to look up fully.

“Get dressed,” he announced. “We’re going clubbing.”

I blinked, confused. “What?”

“You heard me. We’re going out.”

“No,” I said flatly, hugging my pillow tighter. “I don’t want to face anyone. I don’t want to go out. Just… leave me alone.”

Soren crossed his arms, stepping closer. His casual demeanor was gone, replaced by a harder edge. “Raisel, you need to stop crying. You’ve been crying for three months now. It’s time to get out and do something—anything—other than wallowing in this misery.”

“You don’t understand,” I snapped, my voice cracking. “You don’t know what it feels like to be heartbroken, cheated on, and humiliated by the person you loved more than anything in the world!” Tears spilled over again, and I didn’t bother to wipe them.

Soren sighed deeply, his patience clearly fraying. Then, with a sharpness I didn’t expect, he said, “You’re acting like a coward, Raisel.”

I froze, my blood boiling instantly.

“What did you just say?” I asked, my voice trembling with anger.

“I said you’re acting like a coward,” he repeated, his hazel eyes boring into mine. “I thought you wanted revenge. That’s what you said, isn’t it? But look at you—crying, hiding, letting Alaric and Davina win. He’s out there, flaunting his relationship with her, and you’re here, letting him live rent-free in your head.”

The pillow in my hand went flying across the room, hitting him square in the chest. “You’re such an ass!” I yelled, my anger surging. This wasn’t the Soren who had comforted me these past weeks, who had listened to my sobbing without judgment. Where was that Soren?

But the anger in his gaze didn’t waver. “Prove me wrong, Raisel. Stop crying. Get dressed. We’ve got a show to put on.”

I glared at him, my chest heaving. “I’m no coward,” I bit out, the words coming from somewhere deep inside me.

“Then stop acting like one,” he challenged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I can’t let you lose to that jerk. Let’s remind Alaric exactly who he threw away.”

I hesitated, the fire in my chest battling the cold doubt in my mind. “Is this revenge really necessary? I mean, we already have this… dating contract. Isn’t that enough?”

Soren stepped closer, his voice softer but no less firm. “Trust me, Raisel. This is just the beginning. Let’s take the first step together. You’re not a coward, and you’re not weak. You just need to remember who you are.”

I stared at him, feeling a flicker of the old me—the me before Alaric’s manipulation dimmed my spark. Slowly, I nodded. Soren smiled, shutting the door behind him to give me privacy.

I needed to find myself again. Not the obedient housewife Alaric had molded, not the woman who second-guessed every outfit, every thought, every dream. I was Raisel Warden. And it was time I reclaimed that name.

The hot water of the shower washed away the remnants of my tears, leaving only determination behind. Stepping out, I dried my hair and walked to the closet Hazel had stocked with my clothes. But tonight, I wanted to be bold.

I chose a short, fiery red dress with a plunging neckline and spaghetti straps. My hands trembled slightly as I pulled it on, but I didn’t stop. Alaric’s voice whispered in my head, telling me it was too revealing, that I wasn’t skinny enough to wear it. I ignored him.

Makeup followed—a bold red lip and smoky eyes. My hair fell in soft waves around my shoulders, and I spritzed on my favorite perfume, Venus, the floral scent mingling with the warm spice of cinnamon. Jewelry from Hazel’s collection added the finishing touch, and I slipped into black platform heels that made me feel tall and confident.

When I emerged, Soren was waiting in the living room. His eyes scanned me slowly, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his gaze—something more than friendly approval.

“Well?” I asked, doing a small twirl to break the tension. “Do I look like a billionaire’s girlfriend?”

“You look gorgeous,” he said, his voice low and almost unsteady.

A strange heat crept up my neck. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way—not about Soren. This was just a plan, nothing more. My emotions were just a mess, I told myself. But still, his words clung to me, warm and reassuring.

“I should change,” I said suddenly, insecurities bubbling up. “This is too much. I—”

“No,” Soren interrupted firmly. “You look beautiful. Don’t let your insecurities talk you out of it.”

“I’m not skinny,” I whispered, barely audible. “I’m not—”

“Perfect,” he said, cutting me off. “You are perfect, Raisel.” His voice was close now, his hazel eyes locking with mine. I felt safe, as if his words could shield me from every cruel thing I’d ever been told.

We arrived at the club in a sleek Chevrolet Corvette. Paparazzi swarmed as soon as we stepped out, their cameras flashing like lightning. Soren took my hand, guiding me out of the car.

“Act like we’re in love,” he whispered.

I nodded, swallowing my nerves. The lights were blinding, the reporters relentless. My hands began to tremble, memories of that horrible night flooding back.

Soren must have noticed. He pulled me close, his hand brushing against my cheek. “Calm down, Raisel. I’m here,” he said softly. His arms wrapped around me, grounding me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to sink into his embrace.

When I finally pulled away, I noticed something in his eyes—something deeper than concern. But before I could decipher it, Hazel stormed into the lounge, her phone in hand.

“Guys,” she said breathlessly. “Your ex-husband just announced his engagement to Davina.”

The world spun. Hazel handed me her phone, and the image on the screen felt like a dagger to the chest. Alaric’s smug face grinned back at me, standing beside Davina in a off white engagement dress and showing off her wedding ring with a bright smile.