Chapter 16

Harper's POV

My phone rang at exactly 11:03 p.m.

I was half-asleep, halfway through an episode of a show I couldn’t remember the name of, and fully committed to doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the night. So when I saw Riley’s name flash across my screen, I almost let it go to voicemail.

Almost.

Because something about Riley calling this late? That felt... ominous.

I answered on the third ring. “If this is about another blind date, I swear—”

“Harper. It’s a disaster. A full-on, Chanel-burning, trust-fund-cancelling disaster.”

I sat up instantly. “What happened? Did your dad find out? Did Ethan—”

“Ethan’s not Ethan.”

Silence.

I blinked. “Come again?”

She sounded like she was hyperventilating. “The man I went on a date with? The one I thought was Ethan? That wasn’t Ethan.”

“…Huh? You’re not making sense.”

“I went to Fiorenza tonight to meet who I thought was Ethan, but when the real one walked in, I didn’t recognize him. Because I’ve never seen him before in my life!”

Oh. Oh no.

“You mean—”

“Yes. I mistook his assistant for him.”

I flinched. “Okay, yeah, that’s bad.”

“You think?! He sat across from me and said, ‘You’re not Riley,’ like I was some kind of fraud, which—okay, fair—but still!”

I winced in sympathy, half-horrified, half-hysterical. “Please tell me you didn’t call him Ethan to his face.”

“I didn’t! He called me Riley! And then said I wasn’t her! And then I found out he was the real Ethan and—Oh God, I think I gave myself a panic rash.”

I froze. “Wait. You’re saying… the guy I went on a date with was Ethan Reynolds?”

“Yes.”

“And the guy you fell for is…”

“His assistant,” she said, voice dull with defeat. “David. Not Ethan. And he’s not even mad that I confused them. He just wants to know who the hell sat at that date with him.”

I groaned and buried my face in my pillow. “This is like a N*****x series, but the low-budget kind.”

“I hate everything,” Riley moaned.

“Where are you now?”

“Home. Hyperventilating. Replaying every dumb thing I said at that table. He brought up the blind date, Harper. Le Maison. The lipstick. The dress. The line about sex—”

“Oh my God.”

“He remembered it all. And he kept saying, ‘That wasn’t you,’ and I—Harper—I said, ‘My friend,’ and then tried to backtrack, but it was too late.”

I threw my head back against the headboard. “Okay, okay, breathe. So he knows it wasn’t you. But he doesn’t know it was me, right?”

“…No. I didn’t say your name.”

I sagged in relief. “Then we still have time to fix this.”

“Fix this?! Harper, he thinks I’m a liar who hired someone to impersonate me! And worse—he still wants the marriage to happen.”

I blinked. “Wait… he still wants to go through with it? What are you gonna do?”

“What? Me? What do you mean?”

“You said he was talking about marriage?”

“No. He wants to marry the woman he thinks is me. You.”

My brain shut down for a good three seconds.

“…I’m sorry, what?”

“He looked me in the eye, said I wasn’t the woman from Le Maison, and then asked, ‘Then who is she?’”

I slapped my palm against my face. “Of course he did.”

“And then I panicked, and I said ‘my friend,’ and he just... froze. Like Sherlock Holmes mid-theory. I think I saw his brain connect the dots in real time.”

“Oh my God.”

“I didn’t give him your name. But Harper—he’s not going to drop this. He said he wants to find the woman from the date.”

I flopped backwards. “I’m never wearing red lipstick again.”

Ethan’s POV

I wasn’t pacing. That would imply nerves.

I was assessing. Strategizing.

Trying not to punch a hole through the nearest solid object.

David hovered near the lobby doors, holding a coffee he definitely didn't order for me.

“You must be humiliated,” he said dryly. “The heiress pulled a switcheroo. I can’t decide if it’s brilliant or just tragic.”

I shot him a look. “You seem oddly pleased.”

“I’m just saying. This is what happens when you rely on matchmaking apps designed by billionaires. You get bamboozled.”

“What are you even talking about, what app?”

Did he hit his head or something, what is he on about.

“I meant the chairman, you know, the whole matchmaking thing”, he said, clearly holding back his laughter

Was that supposed to be a joke, does this scenario strike him as funny

“David.”

He sipped. “Yes, sir?”

“I should’ve had you fired.”

“And yet, here I am. Charming secretaries and accidentally derailing arranged marriages.”

I exhaled through my nose. “She sent someone else in her place,” I muttered. “Deliberately.”

“Right. Because everyone loves being blindsided on dates.”

I ignored him. “And now she wants to pretend it never happened.”

David raised an eyebrow. “So… that’s it then? You’re dropping it? Calling off the whole thing?”

I glanced at him, amused. “Why do you keep forgetting what I said?”

David paused, frowning. “What you said?”

“What did I say I’d do, no matter who showed up?”

David blinked. “That you’d marry her.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

David snorted. “You do realize you don’t even know her name?”

“Yet.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not actually serious—”

“You’re usually quicker than this.”

David threw up his hands. “Let me get this straight. You’re still pursuing this mystery woman. The fake Riley.”

“She’s not fake. She just… borrowed an identity.”

He gave me a flat look. “That’s a very optimistic way to describe identity fraud.”

I smirked. “She didn’t lie to gain something. She lied to avoid me. That’s the most honest reaction I’ve ever gotten.”

David muttered something into his coffee.

“I told you,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “Go find the woman you ate overpriced pasta with.”

David stopped mid-sip. “Wait. Are you saying—?”

“And I’ll find the one who asked me if I thought about sex all day.”

David choked.

I didn’t even flinch.

“Should I start printing wedding invitations now or…?”

I looked him dead in the eye. “You’re on speech duty.”

David groaned. “This is the worst timeline.”