Chapter 8

Scott's tone changed instantly. "What are you doing?"

But I couldn't answer or breathe.

Only when Joel finally eased up did I manage to fumble for the phone with shaking fingers and hang up.

He let out a low chuckle, breath warm against my ear.

"Leila... from now on, this time belongs to me."

***

Joel left the next morning.

Right before he did, I hesitated—then said it anyway.

"You shouldn't have told the reporters you have a girlfriend. You're still young—"

He glanced at me. "Aren't you my girlfriend?"

"It's just for fun."

"Oh." He nodded, completely unfazed. "Then you're only allowed to have fun with me."

I had no response to that.

***

A few days later, a grand business gala unfolded.

The moment I stepped in, my gaze locked onto the man at the center of it all—Scott, basking in admiration.

And Gigi, draped over his arm.

Someone in the crowd called out, "Leila Lloyd is here!"

The air tightened. Conversations died. Every eye turned to me.

Scott let the silence stretch before sneering. "Realized your little stunt didn't work, so now you're chasing after me?"

Gigi giggled. "Leila, this is just sad. If you're trying to make Scott jealous, at least make it believable. I mean, look at you—who would even want you?"

Then it clicked.

Scott had heard me on the phone that night.

And yet, he still thought it was all just a game—a desperate bid for his attention.

A few instigators at his side grinned, cueing up an old recording—one from four years ago, when I had begged him to marry me.

"Mr. Fletcher, I'm Leila Lloyd. You don't need to know me now, but if we get married, I can help you—"

In the recording, he had just stumbled out of a club, reeking of booze, his gaze dripping with mockery.

"An illegitimate daughter like you? What could you possibly offer me? You'd be better off getting on your knees, saying something sweet—begging properly. Who knows? I might actually consider it. Like... say you'll be my most loyal dog."

A pause.

Then—the unmistakable sound of my knees hitting the ground.

"Mr. Fletcher, as long as you marry me, I'll be your most loyal... dog."

Laughter erupted in the background.

"She actually said it!"

"An illegitimate daughter desperate to climb up—did you really think she had any dignity?"

Scott, still holding Gigi, raised an eyebrow, his smirk as taunting as it had been back then.

"Instead of playing these little games, why not get on your knees again?"

The weight of a hundred stares pressed down—judgment, amusement, scorn.

Then, from the crowd, a startled voice:

"Wait—her shoes! They're the same ones Joel Arnoult's girlfriend was wearing! No one can get their hands on that limited edition pair now!"

Scott's face darkened.