Updated Oct 27, 2025 • ~12 min read
Natalie spent the rest of Saturday in a state of barely controlled panic.
She’d returned to the penthouse to find Grant already there, pacing the living room with his phone pressed to his ear. Business call. Always a business call. He’d given her a look that said we need to talk, but then Dominic had apparently said something urgent and Grant had disappeared into his office.
Giving Natalie time to spiral.
Julian knew where they were. Had been watching them. For how long? Just today? Or had he been following her all week, cataloging every lie, every stolen kiss, every moment she’d let herself forget who she was supposed to be?
She tried calling Scarlett. Voicemail.
Tried texting. Read, but no response.
Of course not. Scarlett was wherever she was, leaving Natalie to clean up her mess while Julian circled closer.
By the time Grant emerged from his office at eight PM, Natalie had worn a path in the carpet.
“Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “That took longer than expected. Dominic’s panicking about the merger timeline and—” He stopped, really looking at her. “Are you okay? You’ve been weird since we left the studio.”
“Fine,” Natalie said automatically. “Just tired.”
“You keep saying that.” Grant crossed the room, his eyes searching her face. “But you’re not fine. Something’s been wrong all week. Talk to me. Please.”
The please nearly broke her.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Natalie said, forcing a smile. “Really. Just pre-wedding jitters.”
“We’re getting married in three months,” Grant said quietly. “If you’re having doubts, I need to know.”
Doubts. About what? About whether she wanted to marry him? She wasn’t the one who got to make that choice. Scarlett was. And Scarlett had already decided—had chosen Grant not out of love but out of desperation.
But standing here, looking at the concern in his eyes, Natalie realized with stunning clarity that if she were the one he’d proposed to, she’d have said yes without hesitation.
The thought was so dangerous she couldn’t breathe around it.
“I don’t have doubts about you,” Natalie said, and it was the most honest thing she’d said all week. “About us.”
There was no us. But God, she wished there was.
Grant’s expression softened. He reached for her, pulling her close. “Then what is it? Because ever since that phone call at the studio, you’ve been somewhere else.”
Julian’s voice echoed in her memory. I know where you live. I know your routines.
She needed to warn Grant. Needed to tell him something—anything—that would make him careful without revealing everything.
“There’s—” Natalie started, then stopped. How did she even begin?
Grant’s hands moved to her shoulders, steadying her. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”
Together. Like they were actually a team. Like she had any right to his protection or his help.
Before Natalie could figure out what to say, Grant’s phone rang again.
He groaned, checking the screen. “It’s my mother. She’s probably calling about the seating chart.” He looked at Natalie apologetically. “I should take this. She’s been stressed about the wedding and—”
“Take it,” Natalie said, relieved for the interruption.
Grant stepped away, and Natalie sagged against the kitchen counter.
She had less than sixteen hours until she met Julian. Sixteen hours to figure out how to protect Grant from whatever was coming.
Her phone buzzed. Finally, Scarlett.
But the message wasn’t from her sister.
It was a photo. Natalie and Grant at the studio. His hands in her hair. Her back against the wall. The kiss that had felt like falling and flying at the same time.
The caption: Looking cozy. Does he know he’s kissing a liar?
Natalie’s blood turned to ice.
Another message: Tomorrow, 2 PM. Don’t even think about bringing your boyfriend. This is between you and Julian.
Then: And Scarlett? We know you’re not in Milan. Stop hiding and face what you owe.
Natalie’s hands shook so hard she nearly dropped the phone.
They knew. Julian’s people knew she wasn’t Scarlett. Or at least suspected something was wrong.
Which meant tomorrow’s meeting was even more dangerous than she’d thought.
She typed back with trembling fingers: I’ll be there. Alone. Just tell me what you want.
The response was immediate: Julian will explain everything. Bring the money, or bring something else Julian wants.
Something else Julian wants.
What did that mean?
Natalie’s mind raced through possibilities, each worse than the last. Information? Access to Grant’s accounts? Something illegal?
She needed help. Real help. Not Scarlett’s empty promises or Juliette’s warnings. She needed someone who could actually do something.
But who? Grant was the obvious choice, but telling him meant explaining everything. The lies, the debts, the danger. It meant watching his face change when he realized the woman he’d been falling for didn’t exist.
She couldn’t do that to him. Not yet. Not until she’d tried everything else.
Her phone buzzed again. Juliette: Just saw the news. Are you watching?
What news?
Juliette sent a link.
Natalie clicked it, and her world tilted sideways.
The headline: STONE & RIVERS MERGER UNDER INVESTIGATION – ALLEGATIONS OF FINANCIAL IRREGULARITIES
The article was from an hour ago. Someone had tipped off the financial press about potential problems with the merger Grant had been working on for months. Anonymous sources suggesting there were accounting issues, possibly fraud.
It was a hit piece. Timed perfectly to damage Grant’s reputation and tank the deal.
Natalie scrolled through the article, her heart sinking with every paragraph. The allegations were vague but damaging. The kind of thing that would require investigations, audits, delays.
The kind of thing that could destroy a businessman’s career.
Her phone rang. Juliette.
“Tell me you’re seeing this,” her friend said without preamble.
“I’m seeing it.”
“Nat, this has Julian’s fingerprints all over it. He’s applying pressure. Showing you what he can do.”
“Why would he do this? We’re meeting tomorrow. I’m cooperating.”
“Because men like Julian don’t just want compliance. They want fear.” Juliette’s voice was grim. “He’s showing you that he can hurt Grant without even touching him. That nowhere is safe.”
In the living room, Grant’s voice had changed—sharp, tense. “What do you mean the board wants to meet? It’s ten PM on a Saturday—”
He’d seen the article.
“I have to go,” Natalie whispered.
“Be careful tomorrow,” Juliette said. “And Nat? Consider telling Grant the truth. He deserves to know what he’s up against.”
The line went dead.
Natalie walked into the living room. Grant stood by the window, his back to her, phone pressed to his ear. Every line of his body radiated tension.
“I don’t care what time it is, Dominic. I need you to pull every document from the last six months. Someone’s leaked partial information to make us look guilty of something we didn’t do—” He paused. “No. No, I’m not panicking. I’m being strategic. This is a coordinated attack, and I need to know who and why.”
He turned, saw Natalie watching. His expression shifted—softened slightly, though the worry didn’t leave his eyes.
“I’ll call you back,” he said to Dominic, then hung up.
“I saw the article,” Natalie said quietly.
“It’s a hit piece. Completely fabricated.” Grant’s jaw was tight. “Someone’s trying to tank the merger. The timing is too perfect—right before we’re supposed to close.”
“Who would do that?”
Grant shook his head. “Business rivals, maybe. Or someone who stands to benefit from the deal falling through.” He crossed to the bar, poured himself two fingers of whiskey. “I’ve made enemies over the years. Comes with the territory.”
But Natalie knew exactly who’d done this. Julian. Showing her what he was capable of. Proving he could dismantle Grant’s life with a few strategic leaks.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it.
Grant downed the whiskey, set the glass down harder than necessary. “It’s not your fault. It’s just—” He laughed bitterly. “Perfect timing. Week before our engagement party follow-up dinner, month before the wedding. Now I get to deal with a potential investigation and media circus.”
The engagement party. The wedding. All the milestones of a future that didn’t exist.
“Grant—” Natalie started, not sure what she was going to say.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping this on you. You’ve got enough stress with the wedding planning.”
The wedding planning. Right. Not the fact that she was meeting a dangerous loan shark tomorrow. Not the fact that Julian was systematically demonstrating how thoroughly he could destroy both their lives.
“I want to help,” Natalie said against his chest. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Just—be here. With me.” Grant’s hand stroked through her hair. “That’s enough.”
But it wasn’t enough. Not when she knew who was behind this. Not when she had the power to maybe, possibly, fix it.
If she went to that meeting tomorrow. If she gave Julian whatever he wanted.
If she sacrificed herself to protect Grant.
They stood there in silence, Grant holding her like she was the only steady thing in a world that had started tilting. And Natalie let him, even though she knew she was part of the storm, not shelter from it.
“Come to bed,” Grant said eventually. “I’m exhausted, and this day can’t possibly get worse.”
Famous last words.
They went to bed, but Natalie couldn’t sleep. She lay there listening to Grant’s breathing even out, his arm heavy across her waist, and tried to figure out her next move.
At 1 AM, her phone lit up with a new message.
Scarlett: I heard about the article. That’s Julian’s doing. He’s escalating.
Natalie carefully extracted herself from Grant’s arms and moved to the bathroom before responding: Where are you? I’m meeting him tomorrow and I have no idea what to do.
Don’t go. It’s too dangerous.
I have to go. He’s already hurting Grant. If I don’t show up, it’ll get worse.
A long pause. Then: Nat, I’m so sorry. I never meant for it to go this far.
Then come home. Fix this yourself.
I can’t. Not yet. I’m trying to get the money together, but I need more time.
We don’t have more time! Natalie typed furiously. Julian knows something’s off. He might know I’m not you. And he’s destroying Grant’s business to prove he can.
I’ll fix it. I promise. Just—don’t tell Grant anything. Please. If he finds out about the debts, about Julian, about any of this, he’ll leave me. And then I’ll have nothing.
Natalie stared at the message, anger rising like bile.
Scarlett wasn’t worried about Grant’s safety. She was worried about losing access to his money.
You don’t deserve him, Natalie typed.
I know, Scarlett responded immediately. But I need him. You have your art, your independence. I have nothing but debts and bad decisions. Grant is my only way out.
That’s not love. That’s using him.
Maybe. But at least I’ll keep him safe. At least I’ll make sure Julian doesn’t destroy him completely. If you tell Grant the truth, Julian wins. Is that what you want?
Natalie closed her eyes. Scarlett was right about one thing—telling Grant now would only give Julian more ammunition. If Grant knew about the debts, the deception, he might do something rash. Might confront Julian himself. Might get hurt.
What do I do tomorrow? Natalie asked.
Go to the meeting. Hear what Julian wants. Don’t commit to anything, but don’t refuse either. Buy me time.
Time for what?
I’m working on something. Trust me.
Trust. That was rich, coming from the sister who’d lied about everything.
But Natalie didn’t have better options.
Fine. But Scarlett? After this is over, you and I are done.
I understand, Scarlett wrote. Then, after a pause: He cares about you, doesn’t he? Grant. I can tell from the way you talk about him.
Natalie’s throat tightened. It doesn’t matter. He thinks I’m you.
Maybe he’s falling for who you really are. Maybe he’s seeing through the act.
Stop.
I’m serious. The way you described him at the studio, talking about art—I never showed him that side. I never cared enough to ask. But you did. You’re giving him something real.
Built on a lie.
Maybe. Or maybe the lie just gave you both permission to be honest.
Natalie didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Because somewhere deep down, she wanted Scarlett to be right. Wanted to believe that what she and Grant had was real, even if it had started with deception.
But wanting something didn’t make it true.
She returned to bed, sliding carefully back into Grant’s arms. He stirred, pulling her closer even in sleep.
“Love you,” he mumbled, barely conscious.
The words hit like a punch.
He’d never said that before. Not awake, anyway. But here, in the vulnerable space between sleep and waking, he’d said it.
To her. To Natalie.
Even if he didn’t know her name.
Natalie closed her eyes and let herself cry silently, tears soaking into the pillow.
Tomorrow she’d meet Julian. Tomorrow she’d face whatever consequences Scarlett had built.
But tonight, just for these last few hours, she let herself hold onto the man who’d said he loved her.
Even if he’d said it to the wrong person.
Even if she’d never hear it again.
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