Updated Feb 14, 2026 • ~10 min read
Harper was going to throw up.
She watched from across the ballroom as Mason approached her mother, watched him introduce himself with that devastating smile, watched Claire’s face light up the way it always did when meeting new people—warm, genuine, interested.
This was a mistake. This was the worst idea she’d ever had.
“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Sienna murmured, appearing at Harper’s elbow with two glasses of champagne. “Drink.”
Harper took the glass with shaking hands. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“You’re not doing anything yet. He’s just talking to her.” Sienna followed Harper’s gaze. “And oh my god, you didn’t mention he looked like THAT.”
Mason did look good. Unfairly good. The tux fit him perfectly, highlighting broad shoulders and a lean build. He’d already made Claire laugh twice, his body language open and charming in that effortless way some people had.
The way her father used to be, before he became a stranger who worked late and took calls in other rooms.
“What’s he saying?” Harper whispered.
“How would I know? I’m not psychic.” Sienna squeezed her arm. “Harper, you can still stop this. Walk over there, make an excuse, pull him away.”
She could. She should.
But then Claire laughed again, a real laugh, the kind Harper hadn’t heard in months. And Mason was showing her something on his phone—his photography portfolio, probably—and her mother’s face was animated in a way that made Harper’s chest ache.
When was the last time her father made her mother laugh like that?
When was the last time Richard looked at Claire like she was interesting instead of just… there?
“I need to know,” Harper said quietly.
“Know what?”
“If she would. If Dad’s cheating—and I think he is—I need to know if Mom would too. If their marriage is already over and they’re both just going through the motions.”
Sienna was quiet for a moment. “And if she would? If your mom flirts back? What then?”
Harper didn’t have an answer for that.
Across the room, Mason said something that made Claire touch his arm, a brief gesture that could mean nothing or everything depending on how you looked at it.
Harper’s stomach twisted.
“This was a terrible idea,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Sienna agreed. “But you’re doing it anyway.”
Twenty minutes later, Harper was nursing her third champagne and pretending to examine the silent auction items while keeping Mason and her mother in her peripheral vision.
They’d moved from the auction tables to the balcony. Private. Intimate. Exactly what Harper had paid for.
Exactly what was making her feel like the worst daughter in history.
“Harper! Sweetheart!”
Ruby, her mother’s sister, materialized in a cloud of perfume and enthusiasm. “You look stunning! Is that the Valentino from last season?”
“Hi, Aunt Ruby.” Harper accepted the air kiss. “You look great too.”
“I look old. But that’s what good lighting and expensive shapewear are for.” Ruby glanced around the ballroom. “Your mother outdid herself this year. The turnout is incredible.”
“She always does.”
“She does.” Ruby’s expression softened. “How is she? Really?”
The question caught Harper off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean your mother’s been doing a lot of ‘I’m fine’ lately, and you know Claire. She could be bleeding out and still insist she was perfectly alright.” Ruby’s sharp eyes studied Harper. “Has she talked to you about anything? Your father?”
Harper’s pulse kicked. “What about Dad?”
“Nothing specific. Just…” Ruby hesitated. “They seem distant lately. I wondered if you’d noticed.”
Oh, Harper had noticed.
“They’re fine,” she lied, the words tasting like ash. “Just busy. Work stuff.”
Ruby didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop. “Well, if she needs anything, you’ll tell me?”
“Of course.”
Her aunt disappeared into the crowd, leaving Harper alone with her guilt and her third glass of champagne.
She looked toward the balcony.
Mason and Claire were still talking. Her mother was smiling. Mason was leaning against the railing, looking relaxed and interested and perfect for this terrible plan.
Harper pulled out her phone.
Harper: How’s it going?
The text sat there, unread. Mason wouldn’t check his phone while talking to someone. He was too smooth for that.
She shoved the phone back in her clutch and headed for the balcony.
This was insane. She should stop this. She should—
“Excuse me.”
Harper nearly collided with a waiter carrying champagne. She sidestepped, muttered an apology, and looked up.
Mason was walking toward her.
Alone.
Harper’s heart stuttered. “Where’s—”
“Your mother got called away. Silent auction emergency or something.” Mason stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell his cologne—something cedar and expensive that definitely wasn’t his. Borrowed, probably. Like the tux. “We need to talk.”
“Did she—” Harper lowered her voice. “Did she seem interested?”
Mason’s expression did something complicated. “Interested in photography? Sure. Interested in hiring me for gallery work? Definitely. Interested in anything inappropriate?” He stepped closer. “Not even a little. Your mother spent twenty minutes talking about her husband’s upcoming birthday and how hard it is to shop for lawyers who have everything.”
Relief and shame hit Harper simultaneously, a one-two punch that made her dizzy.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Mason’s eyes were dark, unreadable. “Want to tell me what this is really about?”
“I told you—”
“You told me you needed a date to deflect matchmaking. But that’s not what this is.” His voice was quiet, intense. “You paid me to flirt with your mother. To test her. And I want to know why.”
Harper’s throat went tight. “That’s none of your business.”
“I just spent twenty minutes being charming to a woman who clearly adores her husband while her daughter watched like I was going to break something precious.” Mason’s jaw tightened. “That makes it my business.”
“You got paid. That’s all that matters.”
“Is it?” He studied her face, seeing too much. “Because from where I’m standing, you look like you’re about to shatter. And I don’t think it has anything to do with me talking to your mom.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
They stared at each other, the gala happening around them, two hundred people dancing and drinking and having no idea that Harper Montgomery was falling apart in the middle of her mother’s event.
“My father’s cheating,” Harper heard herself say. The words came out sharp, broken. “I found evidence. Receipts. Late nights. Secret calls. And I needed to know if—if my mom would too. If their marriage was already over. If they were both just pretending.”
Understanding flickered in Mason’s eyes. “So you hired me to test her.”
“Yes.”
“That’s—”
“Terrible. I know. It’s terrible.” Harper laughed, a bitter sound. “But I’ve been watching them pretend to be happy for months and I can’t—I needed to know the truth. Even if it destroyed everything.”
Mason was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Your mother loves him. Whoever your father is, whatever he’s doing, she loves him. That was obvious in thirty seconds of conversation.”
“I know.”
“So what now?”
Harper didn’t have an answer. Hadn’t thought past tonight, past this test, past proving or disproving something she couldn’t even articulate.
“Now you leave,” she said finally. “We had a deal. You did your part. You can go.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”
“What if I want to stay?” Mason’s voice dropped. “Talk to you instead of your mother. Figure out what’s really going on behind all this.”
“Why would you want that?”
“Because you hired a stranger for $500 to do something ethically questionable, which means you’re either crazy or desperate. And you don’t seem crazy.” His eyes held hers. “And I know desperate when I see it.”
Something in Harper’s chest cracked open.
“I don’t need your pity.”
“Good. I’m not offering pity. I’m offering…” Mason hesitated. “I don’t know what I’m offering. Company? Someone to talk to who isn’t involved in whatever family drama you’re drowning in?”
“You don’t know me.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I’d like to.”
The honesty in his voice almost broke her.
Harper should say no. Should thank him, pay him the rest of the money, and let him leave. Should go back to her original plan—confront her father, save her mother, fix her family.
Should stop looking at Mason like he might be the only honest thing in a room full of polite lies.
“One drink,” she heard herself say. “Then you leave.”
Mason’s smile was slow, genuine. “One drink.”
They found a quiet corner near the bar. Harper ordered whiskey. Mason ordered the same.
“Not a champagne fan?” she asked.
“Can’t afford to develop a taste for expensive things.” He sipped his drink. “Whiskey is whiskey. Does the job regardless of price.”
“Practical.”
“Poor,” he corrected without shame. “But practical sounds better.”
Harper studied him over her glass. “You needed the $500 badly. Your brother?”
“Tuition. He’s pre-med at Columbia. Full ride for grades, but there are always expenses.” Pride crept into Mason’s voice. “Kid’s brilliant. Going to be a doctor. Save lives.”
“And you take weird jobs from strangers to make sure he can.”
“I do whatever it takes.”
There was something in his voice—loyalty, determination, the kind of love that didn’t need to announce itself because it just was.
Harper recognized it because she’d been doing the same thing. Whatever it took to protect her family, even if it meant crossing lines she couldn’t uncross.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For putting you in that position. With my mom. It wasn’t fair.”
“No,” Mason agreed. “It wasn’t. But I took the job anyway. So we’re both guilty of questionable choices.”
“At least you had a good reason. I just have trust issues and a dying marriage I’m trying to save.”
“That’s a reason too.”
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the gala happen around them.
“Your mom really does love your dad,” Mason said eventually. “Whatever he’s doing, wherever he is, she talked about him like he hung the moon.”
“I know.”
“Which makes this worse.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to tell her? About his affair?”
Harper’s hand tightened on her glass. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. She deserves to know the truth.”
“Even if the truth destroys everything?”
“Especially then.”
Mason nodded slowly. “You’re braver than me. I’d rather live with comfortable lies than hard truths.”
“That’s not brave. That’s just damaged.”
“Yeah.” His smile was soft, sad. “That too.”
Harper finished her whiskey. Set down the glass. “You should go. I’ve taken enough of your time.”
“One drink, you said. That was one drink.”
“So now you’re leaving.”
“What if I want a second drink?”
Harper’s breath caught. “Why?”
“Because you’re interesting. Because I want to know more about the woman who hires strangers to test her mother and drinks whiskey at charity galas and looks like she’s carrying the weight of the world.” Mason leaned closer. “Because I think you need someone in your corner right now. Even if it’s just a stranger with questionable morals and rent problems.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Probably. But you seem to like terrible ideas.”
Harper laughed despite everything, a real laugh that felt like breaking.
“One more drink,” she said. “Then you really do leave.”
Mason signaled the bartender. “One more drink.”
They both knew it was a lie.
But for tonight, in the middle of her mother’s gala with her family crumbling and secrets everywhere, Harper let herself believe it.
Let herself look at Mason Rivers and think maybe, just maybe, one honest thing could come out of this terrible plan.
Even if that honest thing was the man she’d hired to seduce someone else.
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