The Billionaire in Disguise

A Stranger Among Vines

დ Aidan/Cole დ

I had been here for a few months already, and I had learned quite a few things. This small country town was called Willowridge. And this vineyard was the Nightglen Winery. And the bed creaked every time I shifted. The sheets smelled faintly like lavender and dust. I was in the guest room, obviously. It wasn’t lived in, and there was nothing personal. It was just a neutral space with an old dresser, a window that faced the back fields, and a small stack of towels folded with military precision. Another thing I had learned was that Rowan didn’t want me here. He didn’t have to say it. I saw it in the way he handed me the keys to the room, like he was holding a live wire. I saw it in the way he avoided eye contact whenever Elara spoke on my behalf. The only reason I was under this roof was because she asked. And because I needed to stay invisible. Cole. That’s who I was now. I was no longer Aidan Rourke. I wasn’t the billionaire CEO. I wasn’t the man with a hit on his head, and not the ghost of a hundred boardrooms. Just Cole. I ran my fingers along the windowsill as I watched the late sunlight spill over the vines. It was quiet here. The kind of quiet that pressed in on your ribs and demanded you notice it. Thornebay never had quiet like this. Not even at two a.m., the city hummed, cars, lights, people with somewhere to be. This place? It breathed slower. Grew things. Held its secrets close. Suddenly, I heard footsteps creaking down the hallway. Lighter ones. I knew who it was. And then a soft knock.

“Cole? It’s Elara,” she said through the closed door. “Are you decent?” I hesitated, and then I smirked, even though she couldn’t see me.

“Are you asking or hoping?” I teased, and I heard her laugh. Muffled, but amused.

“I brought you some water…and aspirin,” she said, and I opened the door, and there she was. She was barefoot, with her hair up in a messy knot, holding a glass and two pills like it was a peace offering.

“Still playing nurse?” I asked.

“Only for the interesting cases,” she shot back. I gratefully accepted the glass and pills.

“Thanks,” I said before I took the pills. Elara leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

“Any flashes yet?” she asked curiously. I could see the hope in her eyes. She wanted me to remember.

“No,” I lied. “Just fragments. Mostly noise. A lot of pain,” now that part wasn’t a lie. Her gaze softened.

“It must be terrifying,” she whispered. She had no idea just how terrifying it was. Only, not for the reasons she thought.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Something like that,” she hesitated for a moment.

“So…you don’t remember your family? Parents? Friends?” I shook my head.

“All I remember is the blood and then…you,” another lie. But if I told her who I really was, she might tell someone. If the wrong ears heard I was alive, well, I couldn’t risk it. Another thing I had learned was that on the night Elara had tripped over me, she had found her now ex-boyfriend in their bed with his secretary. And that this place had been in their family for years. Nightglen Winery. It wasn’t just a vineyard. They did vineyard tours during the summer. They hosted plenty of tastings. And they even had a small restaurant. I also knew that Rowan and Elara weren’t brother and sister. Not by blood. They were stepsiblings. Rowan’s father had left his mother for another woman just after he was born. Elara’s mother had died when she had given birth to Elara. Amanda, Rowan’s mother, had met and fallen in love with Jeremy, Elara’s father. They had gotten married and raised Rowan and Elara on their vineyard of love. I sighed softly as I stared at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Where are your parents now? Ah…Jeremy and Amanda?”

“They are both retired now…they live in that little house near the top of the vineyard,” she explained, and I processed that quietly. Elara’s life wasn’t untouched by pain. But she didn’t wear it like armor. She didn’t lead with bitterness. She led with kindness. With strength. No wonder Rowan hovered like a watchdog.

“You and Rowan…you two are close?” I asked, even though I had a feeling about it. Elara hesitated, but then she forced a smile.

“Complicated close,”

“I’m sure he means well,” I said. I was referring to Rowan’s protective nature.

“He does,” she replied. “He just…doesn’t always know how to say it,” I nodded again, as I absentmindedly sipped the water. Her presence steadied something in me I hadn’t realized was spiraling. This woman, this stranger, was somehow the only person I trusted. Which meant I had to keep lying to her. That thought twisted something ugly in my chest. “Are you feeling up to a tour later?” she offered.

“Sure. Just don’t ask me to remember anything,” I said rather playfully, and she grinned.

“Fair enough,” she said before she left me alone. By mid-afternoon, I had explored more of the house. Hardwood floors, mismatched furniture, soft throw blankets on every surface. The air smelled like rosemary and old books. A guitar leaned against the back wall of the living room, unused but well-loved. I found a photo of Rowan and Elara tucked in a small frame above the fireplace. They were younger with sunburnt cheeks. Her hair was in braids, and his arm was slung around her shoulders like he hadn’t yet learned the weight of protection. He knew it now. Every time I walked into a room, he tensed. I got it. I would be the same. Still, it didn’t make him less annoying. The vineyard buzzed with the quiet life of work. I caught glimpses of staff down in the lower fields, clipping vines, checking barrels. Sunlight stretched golden across the rows. There was a rhythm here. A pace to things. One I hadn’t known I had missed until I was knee-deep in it. City life ran on urgency. This place ran on seasons. Evening crept in slowly. The sky shifted from pale blue to honeyed pink. I wandered back toward the kitchen when the smell hit me. Garlic and fresh herbs. And the smell of something frying. I stepped into the doorway and froze. Elara stood by the stove, with an apron tied loose around her waist. She laughed as Rowan stirred a pot beside her. They moved in sync, without words, without effort. A dozen little moments practiced and easy. She leaned close to nudge him with her elbow, and he smirked. She flipped something in a skillet, then turned to grab plates without missing a beat. I stood there too long. Too still. Watching her. Not just because she was beautiful. But because for the first time in a long time, I saw something I wanted. Peace. A connection. A chance. Elara looked up and caught me in the doorway. Her smile hit me like the first breath after nearly drowning.

“Hi,” I managed to whisper.

“Hey,” she said. “Hungry?” and just like that, I forgot everything but the sound of her voice. Everything except the lie sitting on my tongue.

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