Page 5 of Fake Marriage with the Billionaire

Stella narrowed her eyes at him, thinking about it through her inebriated brain. It sounded like the plot of a bad romantic comedy. It also sounded like something that would never work in real life.

And yet, she was broke. When she woke up tomorrow, she would have two things - a hangover and thirty-five cents in her bank account. She was still going to have to spend the day looking for work and figuring out how to get enough money to pay her rent.

It was a stupid idea. One that would never work. And yet…

“I must either be really drunk or desperate,” she said, “because that doesn’t sound like that bad of an idea. Assuming he would go for it.”

“Well,” he said, pulling out his phone. “You can discuss it over dinner tomorrow. Assuming he’s free.”

Stella snorted, crossing her arms bitterly. “I might be busy tomorrow night.”

Stoney just gave her a knowing look. “Yeah, right,” he said. “You can DVR ‘Real Housewives’.” A moment later, her phone pinged. She picked it up and saw Richard’s number in her texts.

“Call him tomorrow first thing,” said Stoney. “I’d say call him tonight, but I doubt he’d take us seriously right now.” He finished his beer, tipping it all the way up to get at the last few drops.

She looked at the number for a long time, thinking. It was a stupid, desperate idea. Tomorrow she was going to wake up hungover and exhausted and laugh at the fact that she seriously considered such a stupid and hair-brained scheme.

“Want another?” asked Stoney, pointing at her empty glass.

“Sure,” she said absently. It was a very stupid idea, she told herself. She put her phone down and tried to put it out of her mind for the time being. Stoney could really come up with some silly ideas.

***

The next morning, as predicted, Stella woke up with a pounding headache. The sunlight came through her window and shined like a spotlight, brightening everything up to a million watts. Her stomach churned as she tried burying her head in her pillow to block out the light. It didn’t work. Even when she closed her eyes, it was too much light in the room.

After suffering for a few more minutes, she got up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She must have drank nine cocktails at least. It’s a wonder she didn’t pass out at the bar. Stoney would have been pissed if he had to carry her to the Uber. She’d never have heard the end of that.

Stella sat on her bed and picked up her phone to check her messages and immediately saw one from her brother. Puzzled, she opened the text message box and immediately the memory of their conversation came back to her.

Stella’s supposed to call his friend…and see if he’ll pay her to be his fiancée. She shook her head uselessly. Now in the sober light of day, it sounded way stupider than it did when she was drunk. She put her phone down, writing it off as drunken madness, then went to the bathroom to pee.

After, she went into her tiny kitchen and started making coffee. As the smell of the coffee started to fill her apartment, she felt like her head was starting to clear a little. She looked around at her little hovel - the half kitchen/half living room set up with the folding table that she used for a dining room. The impossibly dirty linoleum floor turned into an impossibly dirty carpet that no matter how she scrubbed, never seemed to get entirely clear. And her hand-me-down furniture with duct tape on the holes in the couch and an old coffee table that she found on the curb around the corner from her house. She’d done her best to make the apartment clean and livable, but there was no denying that it was a hole.

Once upon a time, she lived in a nice apartment in a nice part of town. She had nice clothes and a nice car and a good job working as an accountant. Her life wasn’t perfect, of course. Being married to Curtis made all that seem insignificant. She’d come home every day to his criticisms and defeatist attitudes, and it would just make her feel like she was in a gilded cage.

Eventually, she got tired of his narcissistic ways and kicked him out. In those beginning days of the divorce, she thought that the whole thing was just as simple as signing the papers. She didn’t consider that he would try to take everything she’d worked for in some twisted effort to get her back.

It was a long and lonely fight against him, and it cost her her job, then her apartment, and eventually her life savings. Stella never thought that sticking to her principles would cause her to lose everything else in her life. It wasn’t fair. In a way, she felt like even though she was the one who divorced him, he still won somehow. She was the one who had to start over, not Curtis.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at her folding/kitchen table and thought. Was it reallythatbad of an idea? At the end of the day, they would both be getting something out of the exchange. It would be like any other business deal.

She finally got up and walked back to her room where her phone still was. Stella paused, looking at the phone number thoughtfully. The worse thing that he could say was no. Or maybeHell no, why are you talking to me?

She’d suffered worse abuse at her job. This should be a cinch. Stella dialed the number and put the phone to her ear and waited. The phone rang once, twice, then he picked up on the third ring.

“Hello, Richard Hollis III?”

She cringed.Who answers the phone like that?“Hi, uh…this is Stella Lively. Stoney’s sister?”

A pause, then a stiff, “Yes? How can I help you?”

“My brother told me about your whole situation with your father and his will. I’d like to offer you a solution.”

Another pause. “A solution? Are you an attorney?”

“N-no--”

“Okay, do you know any estate attorney’s then?”

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