Young Millionaire Hired Fake Girlfriend for a Family Event—He Never Thought He’d Want It to Be Real
The Charade and Rising Tensions
Wesland stood in front of the full-length mirror of the luxury penthouse suite Zaden had booked for her fitting.
The deep emerald gown hugged her curves perfectly.
The diamond bracelet on her wrist glinted under the soft lighting.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, adjusting the strap.
Zaden, who had been casually lounging on the nearby sofa, glanced up.
His gaze flickered over her, and for the first time since their arrangement began, his confident stance faltered.
“You look perfect,” he said, his voice lower than usual.
A strange warmth bloomed in her chest, but she quickly pushed it aside.
This wasn’t real.
She lifted her chin.
“Let’s get this over with.”
The Callaway estate was nothing short of breathtaking.
The sprawling mansion, adorned with glittering chandeliers and marble floors, was filled with New York’s elite.
Wesland clutched Zaden’s arm as they entered the grand ballroom, her heart pounding.
She had never been in a place like this before.
“Relax,” Zaden murmured, his lips close to her ear.
“Just smile and act like you’re madly in love with me.”
She forced a dazzling smile, leaning into him slightly.
“Shouldn’t be too hard. You’re not exactly hard on the eyes.”
To her surprise, a deep chuckle rumbled from him.
“Careful, Wesland. I might start believing you.”
Before she could respond, a woman’s voice cut through the air.
“Zaden!”
A stunning woman in an elegant black dress approached, her sharp eyes scanning Wesland with open curiosity.
“Mother,” Zaden greeted smoothly.
“This is Wesland, my girlfriend.”
His mother’s perfectly arched brow lifted.
“Girlfriend?”
Wesland extended her hand, her smile unwavering.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Callaway.”
The older woman took her hand, but her expression remained unreadable.
“Interesting,” she murmured.
“I wasn’t aware my son was capable of something as time-consuming as a relationship.”
Zaden’s grip on Wesland’s waist tightened slightly.
“Wesland is very special to me,” he said, his voice steady.
Wesland’s breath caught.
He sounded so convincing. Too convincing.
Mrs. Callaway studied them both, then gave a slow, knowing smile.
“Well then, I suppose I’ll have to get to know this special woman better.”
Wesland swallowed hard.
She had a feeling this weekend was going to be much more complicated than she had anticipated.
Later, Wesland sat stiffly at the long dining table, surrounded by opulence so extravagant it almost felt surreal.
The chandelier overhead cast a warm, golden glow over the gleaming crystal glasses and intricately plated courses.
She was hyper-aware of the scrutinizing gaze of Zaden’s mother, Elena Callaway, who sat across from them.
Zaden rested a casual hand on the back of Wesland’s chair, his presence grounding yet completely unreadable.
He played his role effortlessly, engaging in conversation with his family while subtly keeping her included.
It was remarkable how easily he molded into the perfect son, the perfect businessman, and the perfect boyfriend.
A man to Elena’s right cleared his throat.
He was older, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back.
“So, Wesland, what is it that you do?”
The question was simple enough, but something in his tone made it clear this was a test.
“I work at an art gallery,” she said smoothly, keeping her voice steady.
“I help curate exhibitions and manage private collections.”
Elena’s lips pressed together slightly.
“How fascinating,” she said, though Wesland could tell she wasn’t impressed.
Zaden didn’t hesitate.
“Wesland has an incredible eye for art,” he interjected.
“She’s actually worked with some of the top collectors in New York.”
Wesland shot him a glance, startled by his effortless defense.
He had never heard her speak about her job in detail, yet he made it sound as though he had admired her work for years.
Elena studied them both carefully.
“And how did you two meet?”
Wesland felt Zaden’s fingers briefly brush against hers under the table—a silent reassurance.
“At the gallery,” he answered smoothly.
“I was looking for a piece for my office, and she helped me find something perfect.”
Wesland caught the slight curve of his lips as he continued, as if recalling a cherished memory.
“I was immediately drawn to her. She has this way of seeing beyond the surface, finding beauty where others might overlook it.”
The room was silent for a fraction too long.
Even the distant clinking of silverware seemed to pause.
Wesland’s breath caught at his words.
He was lying, of course.
But the way he said it? It felt real.
Elena’s gaze lingered on them before she finally leaned back.
“Well, that is quite the story.”
The conversation shifted, but Wesland couldn’t shake the strange tension in the air.
She had expected skepticism, but this felt like something else entirely.
Later that evening, as the guests dispersed, Zaden led her toward the open terrace.
The cool night air was a welcome relief from the intensity of the dinner.
“You handled that well,” he murmured, standing beside her.
Wesland let out a breath, crossing her arms.
“I wasn’t expecting an interrogation.”
He chuckled softly.
“That was nothing. If my mother were truly suspicious, she’d be much less subtle.”
She turned to him, searching his face.
“Do you think she believes us?”
His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something calculating, as if he were considering possibilities he hadn’t before.
“She will.”
Wesland exhaled.
“You’re very convincing.”
Zaden’s gaze didn’t waver.
“So are you.”
A flicker of something passed between them, unspoken but undeniable.
Wesland quickly looked away, reminding herself this was all just an arrangement.
But if it was, why did it suddenly feel like something more?
Before she could dwell on it, a voice called from behind them.
“Zaden?”
They turned to see a tall brunette approaching, her designer gown flowing effortlessly.
Her striking features were framed with careful precision.
The way she looked at Zaden made something tighten in Wesland’s stomach.
“Celeste,” Zaden greeted, his voice taking on a sharper edge.
Wesland instantly recognized the name: Celeste Langford.
She was old money, powerful, and exactly the kind of woman Elena Callaway had been trying to push Zaden toward for years.
Celeste’s gaze flickered to Wesland with a polite yet unmistakably assessing expression.
“So, you’re the new girlfriend.”
Wesland forced a smile.
“That’s right.”
Celeste tilted her head.
“Interesting. You must be quite special.”
Something about her tone made Wesland’s spine straighten.
She wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a challenge.
Zaden’s jaw tensed.
“What do you want, Celeste?”
She ignored his sharp tone.
“Just wanted to say hello.”
Then, with a knowing look, she added, “And to see what had you so distracted lately.”
Wesland felt Zaden’s hand press lightly against the small of her back—a clear message he wasn’t letting Celeste rattle her.
Celeste’s lips curved slightly before she turned.
“Enjoy the rest of the evening.”
As soon as she walked away, Wesland let out a breath.
“Well, that was subtle.”
Zaden exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“She won’t stop there.”
Wesland glanced up at him.
“Are you worried she’ll figure out the truth?”
His gaze met hers, something unreadable flickering in his expression.
“No,” he said after a beat.
“But I am worried she’ll try to make things difficult for you.”
Wesland arched a brow.
“I can handle difficult.”
A slow, almost thoughtful expression crossed his face.
“I’m starting to believe that.”
For the first time since they had arrived, Wesland felt something shift between them.
It was unspoken but undeniable, and that terrified her more than anything else.
Wesland later sat at the grand piano in the music room, her fingers hovering over the ivory keys.
The polished surface reflected the soft glow of the chandelier.
She hadn’t touched a piano in years, not since her father’s health had started to decline.
“Do you play?”
Zaden’s voice came from behind her.
She glanced up, startled to find him leaning against the doorway.
His tie was loosened, the controlled businessman facade slightly undone.
It was the first time she had seen him like this—not perfectly put together.
“I used to,” she admitted, brushing her fingers over the keys.
“Not anymore.”
He stepped closer, his presence filling the space beside her.
“Why not?”
Wesland sighed, hesitating before answering.
“Life got in the way.”
Zaden studied her, his gaze unreadable.
“Play something.”
She hesitated.
“I don’t think—”
“Please.”
The word was quiet, almost unexpected.
Something about the way he said it made her fingers press down, coaxing out a hesitant melody.
The sound filled the room, soft and melancholic, like a memory barely held together.
She played from instinct, letting the notes guide her.
For a moment, everything else faded—the expectations, the deception, the weight of pretending.
When she finally stopped, silence stretched between them.
Zaden exhaled slowly.
“You’re incredible.”
Wesland let out a short laugh, shaking her head.
“I’m out of practice.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“You should never stop doing something you love.”
She turned to him, meeting his gaze.
“And what about you? Have you ever loved something enough to hold on to it?”
For the first time, he hesitated.
A flicker of something passed through his expression—an emotion she couldn’t quite place.
Before he could answer, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment.
Elena entered the room, her eyes sharp as ever.
“There you are, Zaden.”
Wesland straightened instinctively, feeling the weight of the older woman’s scrutiny.
Elena’s gaze flickered to the piano.
“I didn’t realize you played, Wesland.”
Zaden stepped in smoothly.
“She’s talented.”
Elena’s lips pressed together in what could have been mild approval or concealed skepticism.
“How lovely.”
Shifting her attention, she added, “Zaden darling, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Wesland knew what was coming before Elena even finished her sentence.
Zaden’s jaw tightened.
“Mother.”
“She’s waiting in the sitting room.”
Elena’s expression was carefully composed, but the message was clear.
She wasn’t letting this go.
Wesland felt a strange, unfamiliar sting in her chest.
This was the whole reason she was here, but Elena wasn’t backing down.
For the first time, she wasn’t sure if Zaden would either.
Zaden looked at Wesland, something conflicted in his eyes.
“Give me a moment.”
Wesland forced a smile.
“Of course.”
She watched as he followed his mother, disappearing down the hall.
The moment the door closed behind them, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“You shouldn’t get comfortable.”
The voice came from behind her.
Wesland turned to find Celeste standing in the doorway, her arms elegantly folded, her gaze sharp.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Wesland said evenly.
Celeste took a slow step forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
“I’ve known Zaden for years. He doesn’t do relationships. Not real ones.”
Wesland kept her expression neutral.
“And you would know this because…?”
Celeste’s smile was thin.
“Because I’ve seen every woman who has tried,” she answered.
“They last a few months, maybe a year, but they always end up realizing the same thing.”
“Zaden Callaway doesn’t let anyone in.”
Wesland’s fingers curled slightly against her dress.
“Maybe you just weren’t the right person.”
Celeste’s eyes gleamed with something amused.
“And you think you are?”
Wesland didn’t answer.
Celeste tilted her head.
“Careful, darling. You might start believing your own act.”
With that, she turned and walked away.
She left Wesland alone in the vast, empty music room.
The silence was suddenly deafening.
Later that evening, Wesland wandered through the garden needing air.
The scent of jasmine and freshly cut grass filled the cool night, but it did little to clear her thoughts.
She didn’t understand why Celeste’s words bothered her.
This was an arrangement, nothing more.
So why did it feel like something was shifting?
“Escaping?”
Wesland turned to find Zaden standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets.
She lifted a shoulder.
“Just needed some space.”
He studied her for a moment.
“Celeste spoke to you.”
Wesland exhaled.
“Does she make a habit of warning your girlfriends?”
Zaden let out a low, humorless chuckle.
“She likes to remind people where they stand.”
Wesland hesitated.
“And where do I stand?”
Zaden’s gaze darkened slightly.
He took a step closer, closing the distance between them until she could feel the warmth of him.
“You tell me,” he murmured.
Her breath caught.
“This is just a job.”
His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something.
Instead, he reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.
The touch was barely there, but it sent something electric through her.
“This was supposed to be simple,” he said quietly.
It was almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to her.
Wesland swallowed.
“And now?”
Zaden didn’t answer.
Instead, he reached for her hand, his fingers threading through hers with an ease that felt too natural.
Too right.
In that moment, Wesland knew this wasn’t just a job anymore.
Not for either of them.
