Chapter 4 Strike a Pose, Fake a Heartbeat

Saturday dawned bright and brutal, the sky too cheerful for what felt like a funeral in Agnes Hart's chest.

She stared at her reflection in the hotel suite mirror, her fingers shaking slightly as she adjusted the earrings James had delivered that morning-small emerald studs that matched the green silk gown she wore like armor.

Everything about her look screamed elegance. Wealth. Confidence.

Everything inside her whispered something else.

He's marrying her.

Today.

Her ex-fiancé.

Matthew.

Agnes closed her eyes, letting the silence swell, then snap.

"Showtime," she whispered.

James's Arrival

The knock came at exactly 10:00 a.m.

Agnes opened the door to find James Reed standing there in a charcoal gray suit, black tie, and a subtle pocket square that matched her dress exactly. His hair was slicked back, his jaw freshly shaven, his expression unreadable-but his eyes...

They flickered over her slowly, then settled.

"You look..." He cleared his throat. "Devastating."

Agnes arched a brow. "Is that your professional opinion?"

"Purely personal."

For a second, the air changed. Grew thicker. Warmer. More dangerous.

She stepped back, letting him in. "Everything's set. The wedding starts at noon. The reception's at the Terranova Hotel downtown. We're arriving during the reception-on purpose."

James nodded. "Public enough to make a splash, late enough to avoid the ceremony."

"And subtle enough to stay within the bounds of 'plausibly classy.'"

James smirked. "You've got this down to a science."

"No," Agnes said softly. "To a survival strategy."

The Car Ride

The drive was long and quiet, tension riding between them like a third passenger.

Agnes watched the city blur past her window, heart pounding. Every mile felt like a countdown.

James, beside her, watched her reflection in the glass more than he looked straight ahead.

"You can still back out," he said suddenly.

She turned to him. "Why do you keep offering me that?"

"Because you're not doing this for show. You're doing this to bleed in public."

Agnes's lips tightened. "And you're not?"

James didn't respond.

She leaned back, exhaling. "You know the worst part of it all?"

He waited.

"I loved him. Not in the butterflies-and-fireworks way. In the ordinary, everyday, dependable way. I thought we'd build a life. House, dog, morning coffee, same toothbrush brand."

James turned to her. "You don't look like the toothbrush-sharing type."

She smiled faintly. "I was. I molded myself into whatever he needed."

James's voice dropped. "And now?"

Agnes met his eyes. "Now I'm showing him what he lost."

James's gaze lingered, sharp and soft all at once.

"Good," he said. "He deserves to choke on it."

The Wedding Reception

By the time they arrived, the reception was in full swing-string lights glittering, champagne flowing, laughter too loud and too forced. The garden terrace at Terranova overflowed with guests, all in pastels and pretense.

Agnes stepped out of the car first, heels clicking against the stone as whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through trees.

Then James exited behind her.

Tall. Confident. Untouchable.

He offered his hand. She took it.

They walked in like a scene from a movie.

Heads turned. Champagne glasses paused midair.

Matthew saw her immediately.

His smile faltered. His new bride-Olivia-followed his gaze, her painted-on joy twitching.

James leaned in and whispered, "Eyes up. Back straight. You're the main event."

Agnes smiled-not for the cameras, not for revenge, but for herself.

The Encounter

It didn't take long before Matthew cornered her by the bar.

"Agnes," he said, voice lower than usual, tense.

She turned slowly. "Matthew."

"You look... different."

"Better, you mean?" she said, tilting her head.

He hesitated. "I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you RSVP'd no."

"I changed my mind," she said coolly. "Thought it'd be rude not to celebrate your forever love."

His gaze dropped to her hand, still resting against James's arm.

"And him?"

James extended a hand. "James Reed."

Matthew didn't take it.

Agnes smirked. "He's my partner."

Matthew's brows lifted. "Business or...?"

James didn't miss a beat. "Both."

Olivia joined them then, her smile brittle.

"Oh," she said sweetly. "Agnes. I love your dress. Vintage?"

"Custom," Agnes replied.

Olivia's eyes flicked to James. "And who's your date?"

Agnes leaned in. "My billionaire boss-turned-lover. Bit cliché, but very effective."

James chuckled under his breath.

Matthew's jaw ticked.

"I should get back to the guests," Olivia muttered, excusing herself.

Agnes watched her go with satisfaction.

Matthew stayed a beat longer.

"You didn't have to come here just to prove something."

"I didn't," she replied. "I came because I've already proved it."

The Aftermath

An hour later, Agnes and James were seated at the edge of the garden, pretending to enjoy hors d'oeuvres while listening to bad toasts.

"That went well," James murmured.

Agnes sipped her champagne. "I didn't slap anyone. That's a win."

"You did more than that." He looked at her, serious. "You took your power back."

She met his eyes, and for the first time in days, she let the silence settle without tension.

"You were right," she said. "This was never just about revenge."

James raised a brow. "Then what was it?"

She hesitated. "Closure."

"And did you get it?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I feel... lighter."

James nodded.

Then, without warning, he reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Now what?" he asked softly.

Agnes blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Our deal's done."

She stiffened.

Was it?

Should it be?

The plan was over. The goal was achieved.

But now her heart was beating a little too fast, and his gaze lingered a little too long.

And suddenly, she didn't want it to end.

"Now," Agnes said quietly, "we go back to pretending we were never pretending."

James didn't look away.

"Can you do that?"

She opened her mouth to respond.

But no words came.

Only the rhythm of her pulse, and the sinking realization that this-this-this lie-had started to feel like the only thing that made sense.

Later That Night – The Hotel Suite

They returned to the hotel suite in silence.

Agnes slipped out of her shoes, walking barefoot to the balcony, the city glowing below like a secret.

James watched her from the doorway.

"This was supposed to be fake," she said without turning.

"It was," he agreed.

She faced him, her eyes unreadable. "Then why does it feel like it's not?"

James stepped closer.

"I don't know."

Agnes swallowed. "We had rules."

"We broke them."

"And now?"

James stood just in front of her, his hands by his sides, not touching.

"I don't want to pretend anymore."

Agnes stared at him, every defense crumbling, every scar aching.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"So am I."

Then, finally, finally-his hand cupped her jaw.

She leaned into it.

And when he kissed her, it wasn't for the cameras.

It wasn't for revenge.

It was for the truth they'd been running from since the moment they agreed to lie.