PART 5:

After dinner, Ryan put Emma to bed while Victoria washed dishes in a kitchen barely big enough for one person. She could hear him reading through the thin walls, his voice doing different characters, Emma giggling. When he emerged 20 minutes later, Victoria was drying the last plate. “She’s down,” he said. “That was a record.

Usually bedtime takes an hour.” “She’s great.” “She really is.” Ryan took the plate from her, put it away. Thank you for being so patient with her. I wasn’t being patient. I was enjoying myself. And she had been. That was the problem. This was supposed to be a test. Ryan was supposed to be number 28 in a long line of men who would eventually fail, eventually reveal themselves to be after her money or her connections or her status.

But Ryan didn’t know about any of that. He knew Tory Brennan, struggling office worker, and he seemed to genuinely like her. Anyway, Victoria was beginning to realize she’d built a trap that she was now caught in herself. 2 months in, the cracks started showing. Small things at first. Victoria forgetting to check her work email from her fake job because she was too busy actually answering emails from her real job.

mentioning a restaurant that Tory Brennan definitely couldn’t afford, then having to backtrack and claim her boss had taken the team there for a work celebration. She’d slip into the language of someone who ran things. Decisive, analytical, used to authority, then have to soften it, make herself smaller, pretend to be uncertain about things she was actually certain about.

Ryan noticed. She could tell. He’d get this look sometimes, like he was trying to solve a puzzle, and the pieces weren’t fitting. One night they were at his apartment, Emma asleep in her room, and Victoria made the mistake of commenting on a business article Ryan had pulled up on his phone. “That acquisition doesn’t make sense,” she’d said.

“The market cap is too high, and the synergies are weak. They’re overpaying by at least 30%.” Ryan stared at her. “I thought you said you worked in nonprofit admin.” Victoria felt her heart kick. I do, but I read business news sometimes. You just sounded like a CEO. I watch a lot of CNBC. He didn’t call her on it, but the look in his eyes changed, suspicious, confused.

Victoria left early that night, claiming she had work in the morning. In her penthouse, she paced. Sarah called. You need to end this, her assistant said. I know. Either tell him the truth or walk away. This middle ground is going to blow up. I know. So, which is it? Victoria didn’t answer. She couldn’t because the truth was she’d fallen in love with Ryan Mercer and Emma and the life they represented.

Small, honest, built on something other than money and power and endless performance. But she’d built that connection on a foundation of lies. And she had no idea how to tell him the truth without losing everything. The breaking point came 3 weeks later on a Sunday morning that started normal and ended with Victoria sitting in her car, hands shaking, wondering how much longer she could keep this up.

She’d spent the night at Ryan’s apartment. Emma had insisted Victoria stay for movie night, and Ryan had looked at her with those tired, hopeful eyes, and she’d said yes, even though staying overnight meant navigating a minefield of potential slip-ups. They’d watched some animated movie about talking animals. Emma had fallen asleep halfway through, curled against Victoria’s side like she belonged there.

Ryan had carried his daughter to bed, and when he came back, he’d sat closer to Victoria than he had before. “She’s getting attached to you,” he’d said quietly. “Is that a problem?” “No, but I need to know if you’re serious about this, about us, because if you’re not, I need to know now before Emma gets hurt.

” Victoria had looked at him in the dim light of the television. this man who’d somehow gotten past every defense she’d built, and she’d lied again. I’m serious. Ryan had kissed her then, gentle, careful, like he was handling something fragile, and Victoria had kissed him back, tasting the lie on her own lips. She’d stayed over in Ryan’s bed while he slept on the couch.

His insistence, not wanting to move too fast with Emma in the next room. In the morning, Emma had crawled into bed with Victoria, whispered conspiratorally about making pancakes as a surprise for Dad. They’d cooked together in the cramped kitchen, Emma standing on a chair, Victoria helping her crack eggs.

The kid had gotten shells in the batter twice, and they’d had to fish them out with a spoon. “Tori,” Emma had said, focusing hard on stirring. “Yeah, are you going to be my dad’s girlfriend?” Victoria’s hand had frozen midreach for the flower. Would that be okay with you? Emma had considered this seriously. Only if you promise not to leave.

Emma, everyone leaves. My mom left. Not because she wanted to, Dad says, but she still left. And the lady dad dated before, she left, too. So if you’re going to leave, I want to know now. 6 years old and already carrying that weight. Victoria had wanted to pull her close, promise her everything would be okay.

But she couldn’t make that promise. Not when she was lying about everything. “I’m not planning on leaving,” she’d said carefully. “Okay.” Emma had gone back to stirring. “Then you can be his girlfriend.” They’d brought Ryan breakfast in bed. He’d looked at them both standing in the doorway, Victoria holding a tray of slightly burnt pancakes, Emma grinning proudly, and something in his expression had made Victoria’s chest hurt.

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