Page 66 of Baby For My Bossy Fake Fiancé

Sometimes she would even settle for a nod. She arranged the files beforehand. Served my coffee at the right time.

She was suddenly perfect—too perfect.

It was obvious that she was avoiding mistakes. Leaving no room for any interaction.

Even at the mansion, she would immediately flee to her room. There was no noise after. No irritating sounds. No her.

She was barely there.

And I hated it.

I hated each of my actions that had led us here.

I hated each of the actions that had led me here. To this point in my life where I felt lost. Alone.

Without family.

The second gift was a picture of us, as a family. And I didn’t need to know it was from Sarah.

It only meant they’d planned the surprise. It only meant my family still cared.

Fuck.

They always did. Even a few years after I had irrationally shut everyone out, she—they’d still reached out. But I couldn’t stand to see myself receive love when I didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t stand them wasting their attention on a son like me.

I was a terrible person. A terrible son. A terrible father.

The picture had been taken on my thirty-sixth birthday. I had all the degrees and academic records. But hadn’t fully climbed the ladder.

I wasn’t where I wanted yet. Life was still plain and simple. Me, my family, and Ariana.

Ariana had always wanted to be a teacher. It was her dream. But for some reason, she was sceptical. She didn’t know if she’d do well with kids.

She was the blue-eyed blonde hair combo. In her, I found a friend and a lover. But mostly a friend.

She had the ability to light up the room with her smile. And life felt better with her. With her, I eased the struggles that came with my dreams.

But just when I reached the top of the ladder, everything below crumbled. Everything on the ground. It was when I realized I had been too focused on the top.

And ignored the ones that were there for me.

It was sad that I let her down. I let myself down. I let everyone down.

Including him...

I fisted my hair.

It was sad to say. But my plans of distraction seemed to be working. Just yesterday, I saw a picture of me and Renee in a magazine.

It was a picture of us outside the office building, with my arms around her waist.

My shoulders slumped as I let out a deep breath.

To think that I was also using her made it all even worse.

But before the familiar guilt took space in my chest, my door swung open.

Slowly.

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