This was not my first time agreeing to a fake date.I have had experience with almost all kind of men.The average, the rich,just name it.That was why I did not bother to conduct a background check on Julian Hart.I just walked into His marble mansion like it was normal, and didn't even ask the obvious:
Who exactly is this man?
So I did what any sane woman with a phone and good internet connection will do. I Googled him.
And then I lost all ability to blink or even breath for a solid five minutes.
---
The Harts weren't just rich. They were VERY rich.They were capital-R Rich. The type of family that didn't own just one company—they owned industries.
The first article that popped up had the headline:
"Hart Empire Heir Still Unmarried at 35—Speculations Continue."
With a picture of Julian looking like he was allergic to joy. Nothing new.
The second article was worse:
"Inside the Lavish Life of the Elusive Hart Heir: Yachts, Real Estate, and Rumors."
And yes, there was a yacht. Not a boat. A yacht!!!.
A yacht, guys.
My mouth was open. Literally open.An insect could have gotten into it freely.
I scrolled through photos—Julian at a tech launch, Julian on a red carpet, Julian looking like a bored Greek god next to a CEO twice his age.
There were even online forums where people discussed him like he was a celebrity crush with emotional damage.
HartWatchersFan99:
He's so cold but so fine. My kind of guy.
User4567:
I'd let him ignore my texts any day.
Me:
What. Is. Happening.
That night, I called my best friend Sammy, because emotional support was now necessary.
"Girl," I said, pacing my room, "do you remember when I said I took a new client?"
"The one who looks like a Bored Greek God who just wanted to die?"
"Yeah. He's a Hart. As in Hart Hart.
There was a pause.
"Girl,do you even hear yourself?
I mean it.
Another pause
Then a loud choking noise.
"You're joking. The Hart family? The ones with that scandalous great-grandfather who once married an overage stripper and a politician in the same year?!"
"Apparently, yes."
"Elena," she whispered like we were being wiretapped, "this man probably has a personal cloud."
"He probably owns the entire weather system."
I sank onto my bed, still in shock.
Sure, I knew Julian had money. The tailored suits were a dead giveaway. But I thought he was garden-variety rich. Not I-own-a-private-island-named-after-my-dog rich.
It suddenly made sense. The emotional disguise. The way he operated like a man who didn't have time for emotions or small talk. If I'd been raised in the spotlight, with everyone watching, judging, and expecting me to marry a trust-fund Barbie, I'd probably be allergic to feelings too.
Still... it changed things.
Pretending to love a regular rich guy is one thing.
Pretending to love Julian Hart was like auditioning for a royal drama with no script and a very real chance of public humiliation.
Sammy sighed dramatically. "You need to step up your fake fiancée game. Start watching those princess makeover movies again and even more."
I groaned. "Do I have to get a British accent?"
"You have to get a new wardrobe and probably a new life as well."
I looked down at my hoodie that was begging to be changed and then my extremely faded jean.
She had a point.
Before I slept, I stared at Julian's photo again.
So much money. So much loneliness in those eyes. In the Same person
He probably had everything money could buy… except freedom. And warmth. And someone who could make him laugh without asking for anything in return.
Well, except a paycheck.
And maybe a soft smile.
Just once.
I tucked my phone under my pillow and whispered to no one, "You better not catch feelings, Elena. This is a job. A gig. A temporary illusion."
Because if I wasn't careful, this fake fairytale might break more than just headlines.
It might break me.
A month.....4 weeks ....30 days
I am finished.8