Updated Nov 25, 2025 • ~8 min read
The morning after the proposal, I woke to find Leander’s side of the bed empty.
Again.
The ring on my finger caught morning light—his grandmother’s ring. Real. Heavy with meaning I still couldn’t process.
I found him in the kitchen, staring at his laptop with an expression I’d never seen. Lost. Devastated.
“Leander?”
He looked up. Whatever he’d been reading, it had shattered something.
“My mother called. She saw the proposal. The livestream. Twelve million people watching me give you my grandmother’s ring.”
“Is she upset?”
“She’s thrilled. Says it’s about time I moved on from Felicity. Found someone real.” He closed the laptop. “She doesn’t know this started as fake.”
“It’s not fake anymore. You said—”
“I know what I said. And I meant it. But Morgana, there are things you don’t know about me. About what happened with Felicity. If we’re doing this for real, you need to know the truth.”
Dread pooled in my stomach. “Okay.”
He poured coffee with shaking hands. “I told you Felicity embezzled from my company. That she was working with her father to destroy me. That’s all true. But it’s not the whole story.”
“What’s the whole story?”
“Five years ago, I was different. More open. More trusting. I believed in love, partnership, building something meaningful.” He sat across from me. “Felicity and I were engaged for two years. Planning this massive wedding. I thought we were building a life.”
“What changed?”
“I found out she was pregnant. Not with my child. With my business partner’s child. Adrian Moretti—the same Adrian whose wife I supposedly seduced according to tabloids.”
My breath caught. “That’s not what the articles said.”
“Because I let them print lies. Paid publicists to spin it differently. Made myself the villain instead of the victim.”
“Why?”
“Because the truth was worse. That I’d been so blind, so trusting, that I didn’t see my fiancée was having an affair for six months. That she was embezzling to fund Adrian’s competing startup. That they’d planned to destroy my company, take everything, leave me with nothing.”
“Oh god, Leander—”
“When I found out, I confronted them. Felicity laughed. Said I was so focused on work I’d never noticed she’d stopped loving me. That I was convenient—rich, well-connected, easily manipulated. Adrian said I deserved it for being naive enough to trust anyone in business.”
“That’s not—you weren’t naive. You were human.”
“I was stupid. And I paid for it. The embezzlement investigation led to criminal charges. Felicity went to prison. Adrian fled the country. Their fathers—both powerful men—blamed me. Said I’d seduced Felicity, corrupted her, destroyed their families.”
“But that’s not true!”
“Doesn’t matter. That’s the story people believe. That’s why half of Chicago’s elite hates me. Why every woman I’ve dated since has been analyzed for manipulation potential. Why I swore I’d never let anyone close enough to destroy me again.”
He looked at me. Eyes haunted.
“Until you. Until I met someone who crashed weddings with righteous fury and didn’t care about my money or connections. Someone who challenged me. Made me feel something.”
“That’s why you’ve been running. Why you keep pushing me away.”
“Because letting you in means risking everything again. And I don’t know if I can survive another betrayal.”
I moved around the island. Took his face in my hands.
“I’m not Felicity. I’m not after your money or company. I crashed into your life accidentally and stayed because I—” The words caught. “Because I fell for you. Really fell. Despite the contract and cameras and every reason not to.”
“How do I believe that? How do I trust my judgment when it’s been so wrong before?”
“You can’t. Trust isn’t about certainty. It’s about choosing to be vulnerable anyway.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“I know. I’m terrified too.” I kissed him softly. “But we’re terrified together. That has to count for something.”
His arms wrapped around me. Held tight. Like I was the only solid thing in a world that had shattered too many times.
“The proposal last night,” he said. “I meant every word. But Morgana, I need you to understand—I’m damaged. I don’t trust easily. I’ll probably pull away when things get too real. Test you without meaning to. Sabotage us because it’s safer than hoping.”
“Then I’ll pull you back. Call you out. Fight with you and for you until you believe this is real.”
“That’s a lot to sign up for.”
“Good thing I already signed a contract.”
He almost smiled. “Literally.”
We stood in his kitchen—our kitchen—holding each other while cameras rolled in the living room, capturing what they thought was post-proposal bliss.
If only they knew we were clinging to each other through trauma and trust issues and the terrifying hope that maybe, this time, love could be enough.
The doorbell rang. Leander tensed.
“Expecting someone?” I asked.
“No.”
He went to answer. I heard voices. His shocked. Another familiar but unwelcome.
I rounded the corner to see Felicity Morrison standing in our entryway.
Five years older. Prison-thin. Eyes hard as diamonds.
“Hello, Leander. Miss me?”
My blood froze.
“What are you doing here?” Leander’s voice was ice.
“Saw your proposal on the news. Congratulations. Though I have to wonder—does your new fiancée know you’re only using her to fend off the takeover? That this whole relationship is strategic?”
“Get out.”
“Not yet. We need to talk. About what you owe me.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“Really? Because I spent three years in prison for crimes you helped create. You knew about the embezzlement, Leander. You knew and you let it continue because it was profitable. Then when things got messy, you threw me under the bus.”
“That’s a lie—”
“Is it? Because I have emails. Documents. Proof that you were complicit. And if you don’t give me what I want, I’m releasing everything. Let the world see the real Leander Cork.”
“You’re blackmailing me.”
“I’m collecting what I’m owed.” She turned to me. “You should run, sweetheart. Before he destroys you too. It’s what he does.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
“Brave. Stupid. But brave.” She handed Leander an envelope. “My terms. You have forty-eight hours. Refuse and I’ll make sure your precious reality show becomes about corporate fraud instead of romance.”
She left.
We stood frozen. The envelope between us like a bomb.
“Is it true?” I asked. “Were you complicit in the embezzlement?”
“No. But I can’t prove it. She’s right about the emails—there are messages that could be interpreted as knowledge or approval. I was trying to gather evidence for prosecution. But out of context, they look bad.”
“So she has leverage.”
“She always has leverage. That’s how she operates.” He opened the envelope. Read. Face going pale. “She wants ten million dollars and a public statement saying the embezzlement was mutual, that I share blame.”
“You can’t—”
“If I don’t, she releases documents that destroy what’s left of my reputation. The takeover succeeds. I lose everything.”
“What about the truth?”
“The truth doesn’t matter. Perception does. And she’s about to control the perception.”
I grabbed my phone. “We need lawyers. Mia. Someone—”
“No. Nobody can know about this. Not yet.” He caught my wrist. “Morgana, this is what I was afraid of. The second I let someone in, my past comes back to destroy it. Maybe Felicity’s right. Maybe you should run before you get caught in the crossfire.”
“Stop. I’m not running. We’ll figure this out.”
“How? She has evidence—”
“Then we get our own. We investigate. Fight back.” I met his eyes. “You said you wanted to try for real. This is what real looks like. Messy. Complicated. Fighting battles together instead of alone.”
Something shifted in his expression. “You’d do that? Stand by me through this?”
“That’s what partners do. That’s what real means.”
“Even if it destroys your reputation? The show? Everything you’ve built?”
“Especially then.”
He pulled me close. Kissed me desperately. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Probably not. But you’re stuck with me anyway.”
“For better or worse?”
“We’re not married yet.”
“Technically we’re engaged. For real now.”
“Technically you’re being blackmailed by your criminal ex-fiancée. Let’s solve that before we plan the wedding.”
He laughed. Actually laughed. “How are you making jokes right now?”
“Because the alternative is panic. And panic doesn’t solve problems.” I picked up the envelope. “Forty-eight hours. We need a plan.”
“We need a miracle.”
“Then it’s good I crash weddings for fun. I’m excellent at impossible situations.”
We spent the day strategizing. Called lawyers who weren’t on Mia’s production team. Reviewed Leander’s old emails. Built a defense against Felicity’s blackmail.
But underneath the planning, fear hummed.
This was what Leander had warned about. The danger of letting someone in. The inevitable destruction that followed.
Except I wasn’t running.
I was fighting.
For him. For us. For the truth.
And that night, lying in his arms while he finally slept after twenty hours awake, I realized something terrifying.
I loved him.
Not performance love. Not contract love.
Real, messy, complicated love that made me willing to fight his battles and risk my own reputation.
I loved Leander Cork.
And his ex-fiancée was about to try to destroy us both.
But I’d fought billionaires’ lies before.
This time, I was just fighting for one instead of against.
And I’d be damned if I’d let Felicity Morrison win.
Game on.
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