Victory was supposed to feel lighter than this.
Zara Okafor stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in Adrian Blackwood's office, watching the city stretch endlessly beneath the night sky. Sterling Holdings had won the Horizon Project. The board was pleased. The staff was celebrating. Her inbox overflowed with congratulatory messages.
And yet, an unfamiliar weight settled in her chest.
Behind her, Adrian closed the office door quietly.
"They're opening champagne downstairs," he said. "Apparently, someone thinks we deserve it."
Zara smiled faintly. "Someone would be right."
He stepped closer, loosening his tie. "You disappeared."
"I needed air," she replied.
Adrian studied her reflection in the glass. "You handled Ethan perfectly today."
"Because I knew how he'd play it," she said. "That doesn't mean I enjoyed it."
Silence fell between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Since the summit, something had shifted—not broken, but stretched thin, like a thread pulled too tight.
"You were incredible on that stage," Adrian added. "The board noticed."
Zara turned to face him. "So did Ethan."
Adrian's expression hardened slightly. "He approached you again?"
"Yes," she said honestly. "Just words. Nothing more."
Adrian nodded, but his eyes lingered on her face longer than necessary. "I trust you."
The words should have reassured her.
Instead, they unsettled her.
Trust was dangerous territory.
The celebration downstairs was loud and polished, filled with laughter and clinking glasses. Zara navigated through familiar faces, accepting praise with practiced grace. Adrian stayed close, his presence grounding—but also distracting.
To the outside world, they looked perfect. A power pair. Untouchable.
Only Zara knew how fragile the illusion truly was.
Halfway through the evening, Lena Hart appeared at Zara's side.
"You were brilliant today," Lena said sincerely. "I've never seen a presentation dismantle a competitor so cleanly."
"Thank you," Zara replied.
Lena glanced toward Adrian, who was speaking with a group of executives nearby. "He's proud of you."
Zara stiffened slightly. "He didn't say that."
"He didn't have to," Lena said with a knowing smile. "Men like Adrian don't express pride easily. But they show it."
Zara took a sip of her drink. "You know him well."
"Well enough," Lena replied. "We worked closely years ago."
"And now?" Zara asked, surprising herself.
Lena tilted her head, studying her. "Now, I think he's changed."
Zara met her gaze. "How so?"
"He doesn't shut people out anymore," Lena said gently. "At least… not you."
Before Zara could respond, Lena excused herself.
The words lingered.
He doesn't shut people out anymore.
That night, Zara lay awake long after Adrian dropped her off at her apartment. Her mind replayed moments—his unwavering trust, the way he'd stood beside her during the summit, the subtle concern in his eyes.
And then the lies.
The arrangement.
The fake relationship built on half-truths.
How long could something false feel so real?
The answer came sooner than expected.
The next morning, Zara arrived at the office early, determined to bury her thoughts in work. She barely had time to settle in before an email marked Confidential appeared in her inbox.
From: Board Oversight Committee
Subject: Immediate Review Meeting – 10:00 AM
Her pulse quickened.
By ten o'clock, Zara sat across from three board members she rarely interacted with directly. Their expressions were polite—but distant.
"Ms. Okafor," one of them began, "this is a routine review following the Horizon Project."
"Of course," Zara replied calmly.
"We've received concerns regarding internal influence," another added. "Specifically, about decision-making dynamics between you and Mr. Blackwood."
Zara's stomach tightened. "I don't understand."
"There are suggestions," the first continued, "that personal involvement may have compromised professional boundaries."
The words landed like a slap.
"With all due respect," Zara said carefully, "my work speaks for itself."
"We're not questioning your competence," the woman replied. "But perception matters."
Zara left the meeting with her composure intact—and her trust shaken.
By noon, whispers spread across the office.
By evening, Adrian knew.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Adrian demanded quietly as he closed his office door behind them.
Zara crossed her arms. "Because I didn't want to escalate it."
"They're questioning your integrity," he said sharply. "That's not nothing."
"And whose fault do you think that is?" she snapped.
The question hung between them.
Adrian exhaled slowly. "This arrangement—"
"You mean the lie," Zara cut in. "Say it."
"Yes," he admitted. "The lie. It was supposed to protect us. Instead, it's giving them ammunition."
Zara's voice trembled despite her effort to stay composed. "I warned you this would happen."
"And I warned you about Ethan," Adrian countered. "Yet here we are."
Her eyes flashed. "Don't you dare imply—"
"I'm not," he said quickly. "But you have to admit the timing is suspicious."
The implication stung worse than the accusation.
"So now you're doubting me?" she asked quietly.
Adrian hesitated.
That hesitation shattered something fragile between them.
"I don't doubt you," he said finally. "But I don't trust this situation."
Zara laughed bitterly. "Convenient distinction."
She turned toward the door.
"Zara," Adrian said, reaching for her arm—but stopping himself. "We need to fix this."
"No," she replied without turning around. "You need to decide whether you trust me. Completely. Or not at all."
And then she walked out.
The days that followed were cold.
Professional. Controlled.
Zara and Adrian communicated strictly through meetings and emails. No lingering glances. No late-night conversations. The office felt smaller, tighter, filled with unspoken tension.
Meanwhile, the board's scrutiny intensified.
Then, on Friday afternoon, Zara received another message.
From: Ethan Kingsley
Careful, Zara. Looks like your perfect world is cracking.
She stared at the screen, fury rising.
He was behind this.
She knew it.
But proving it was another matter.
That evening, as rain poured relentlessly against the city, Zara sat alone in her apartment, documents spread across her table. Patterns emerged—anonymous tips, subtle leaks, carefully timed rumors.
All leading back to one source.
Ethan.
Her phone rang.
Adrian.
She let it ring once. Twice.
Then she answered.
"I found something," he said without preamble. "You were right."
Her breath caught. "What?"
"There's a trail," he continued. "Anonymous emails to the board. Routed through shell accounts connected to Kingsley Dynamics."
Silence.
"I never doubted you," Adrian added softly. "I doubted myself."
Zara closed her eyes.
"Meet me," he said. "Please."
They met in the office long after everyone else had left.
Stacks of evidence lay between them now, undeniable.
"He tried to destroy you," Adrian said quietly.
"And almost succeeded," Zara replied.
"I'm sorry," he said. "For hesitating. For hurting you."
She met his gaze. "This is why pretending doesn't work."
"I know," he said. "Because somewhere along the line, it stopped being pretend."
Her heart pounded.
"This situation exposed us," Adrian continued. "But it also clarified something."
"What?" she whispered.
"That whatever this is between us—fake or not—it matters to me."
Zara swallowed hard. "It matters to me too. That's what scares me."
Adrian stepped closer. "Then let's stop lying."
The words felt dangerous. Liberating.
But Zara shook her head. "Not yet. The board. Ethan. Everything is still unstable."
Adrian nodded reluctantly. "Then we fight this first. Together. Honestly."
She reached for his hand—briefly, deliberately.
"Together," she agreed.
As they stood there, united but uncertain, Zara understood one thing with clarity:
The greatest