Page 159 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

I look up sharply. “Misinformation that led him to what?”

“Financial overextension and failure.” A hint of grim satisfaction crosses his face. “He just lost the financing for his next three major projects. He’s lost the Hartman warehouses.”

My mind races, trying to fit these new pieces into the puzzle. “But why didn’t you tell me about any of this? Why keep me in the dark?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I wanted to protect you from knowing Blackwell was targeting your opening. You were already stressed enoughabout the exhibition.” He pauses. “I realize now that was my control issue speaking. I should have trusted you with the truth.”

I blink. “Wait, what? How was he targeting my opening?”

Gideon’s jaw tightens, and I can almost see him weighing how much to tell me. “Our intelligence indicated he’d hired a PR firm that specializes in character assassination. They were planning to plant stories about how you used our marriage to secure gallery space and funding.” His voice grows harder. “They had photographers ready to ambush collectors entering your show, planned to question your artistic credentials publicly. There was even a fake art critic prepared to publish a scathing review before seeing a single piece.”

Jesus.

“Their plan wasn’t subtle. It was designed to create enough of a spectacle that your art would be overshadowed by scandal.” He moves closer, eyes intense. “We fed them the documents you found to make them think I was already planning to do something similar. It gave us access to their playbook while we quietly implemented countermeasures against each threat.”

I swallow hard, finally understanding the stakes. “So all this time, while I was obsessing over lighting and wall space...”

“I was making sure no one could touch you or your reputation.” He looks away. “I should have told you. You deserved to know what you were up against.”

“And after I found the documents and left?” I press. “Why wait a week to explain?”

“I wanted you to see that nothing happened atyour opening. That all our counter-measures worked. I thought...” he hesitates, “I thought you wouldn’t believe me without proof that we had protected you successfully.”

The sick feeling in my stomach begins to uncoil slightly. “So it was all a strategy designed to feed Blackwell misinformation.”

He nods, takes another step closer. “Ava, look at the last page.”

I flip to the final document. It’s a detailed analysis of potential threats to my reputation with corresponding counter-measures. It’s dated one week after our wedding.

“I would never target your art,” he says softly. “From the beginning, I knew your talent was extraordinary. I would never undermine what makes you... you.”

My chest tightens painfully as the full realization hits me. “I thought you were just like my stepfather. Another man using his power to destroy my artistic future.”

“I know.” His voice is rough with emotion. “That’s what hurt the most when you left, knowing that you believed I could do that to you.”

I stand up abruptly, needing to move. “My stepfather deliberately sabotaged my future. When I saw those documents in your desk...” The tears I’ve been fighting finally break free. “It felt like history repeating itself.”

Gideon closes the distance between us, his hands coming up to cup my face, thumbs gently wiping away my tears. “Your talent is what drew me to you from the beginning. It’s part of who you are, and it’s part of why I love you.”

Wait, what? Didhe just say...

My heart stutters to a complete stop, then restarts at twice its normal pace. “You what?”

“I love you, Ava.” His gray eyes hold mine, unflinching. “I think I’ve loved you since that first night, but I was too stubborn and scared to admit it.”

“But our agreement—”

“Fuck the agreement.” His voice has taken on that low, intense quality that always makes my knees weak. “I don’t want a financial arrangement. I don’t want a temporary marriage of convenience. I want you. Just you. No contracts, no terms, no expiration dates.”

I’m shaking now, overwhelmed by emotions I’ve been suppressing for months. “All this time, I thought it was one-sided. I thought I was just another business transaction for you.”

“Never.” His hands tighten slightly on my face. “You’re the only real thing in my life.”

Something inside me breaks open. All the walls and defenses I’ve built to protect myself crumble away in an instant.

“I love you, too,” I whisper, the words I’ve been terrified to even think finally slipping free. “I’ve been fighting it for so long, but I can’t anymore. I don’t want to.”

His lips find mine in a kiss that feels like coming home. It’s gentle at first, almost reverent, before deepening into something hungry and desperate. My arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer as two weeks of suppressed longing surges to the surface.

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