Falling For My Fake Fiancee

The Storm Returns

Harper

I knew something was wrong the second I stepped into Hale Tower.

The energy in the lobby was off—tighter, sharper. The receptionists whispered behind manicured hands, their eyes flicking to the elevator like they were watching a movie unfold. Even the security guard, who usually gave me a small smile, looked suddenly uncertain.

I clutched my tote bag a little tighter. “Everything okay?” I asked him as casually as I could.

He hesitated. “You’ll see soon enough, Ms. Quinn.”

That didn’t help.

The elevator ride up to the thirty-ninth floor felt longer than usual. The mirrored walls reflected a version of me I barely recognized—hair pulled back neatly, tailored cream blazer, faint confidence I didn’t actually feel. I’d started to look like I belonged here.

But the truth was, I still didn’t. Especially not today.

The doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing chaos. The kind of quiet chaos only power could make—people moving fast but whispering even faster.

And then I saw her.

Vivienne Laurent.

The name alone had followed me for weeks—Alexander’s ex-fiancée, the woman who’d left him standing at the altar five years ago, vanishing into Mexico without a word.

She was real. And she was breathtaking.

Every photo I’d seen of her online hadn’t done justice to the woman standing in front of Alexander’s glass-walled office. Tall, poised, with golden-brown skin and a cascade of dark curls that framed a face made for magazine covers. She was laughing softly, one manicured hand resting lightly on Alexander’s arm like she’d never left.

My heart sank.

I should’ve turned around right then. Should’ve saved myself the ache that bloomed like a bruise in my chest. But I didn’t. I stepped forward, forcing my voice steady.

“Alex?”

The sound of his name snapped his attention toward me. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe guilt—but it was gone almost instantly, replaced by the polished calm he wore like armor.

“Harper,” he said, his tone measured. “You’re early.”

“I could say the same about your… visitor.”

Vivienne turned then, her gaze sweeping over me with the easy confidence of someone used to being admired. Her lips curved in a faint, knowing smile. “You must be Harper,” she said smoothly. “Alexander’s fiancée.”

The way she said it—soft, deliberate—made my stomach twist.

“That’s right,” I replied, matching her tone as best I could. “And you are?”

“Oh.” Her smile didn’t falter. “An old friend.”

Old friend, my ass.

Alexander cleared his throat, tension rippling through the space like static. “Vivienne stopped by unexpectedly. She’s in town for a few days.”

“Right,” I said. “And you two were… catching up?”

Vivienne’s eyes glittered. “Reminiscing, actually. So many memories in this building.”

She reached out to adjust the lapel of Alexander’s jacket, and my pulse spiked before I could stop it. He didn’t move, but I saw his jaw tighten.

I forced a smile. “Well, don’t let me interrupt.”

And then I turned and walked away before either of them could stop me.

I didn’t head to my office. Instead, I went straight to the bathroom, locking myself inside. The moment the door clicked shut, my composure cracked.

My reflection stared back at me, eyes wide, chest rising and falling too fast. You knew this could happen, I told myself. You knew what he told you—that he doesn’t do love.

But knowing didn’t stop the sting.

I splashed water on my face, willing the heat in my eyes to fade before I walked back out. But just as I reached for a towel, the door opened behind me.

“Harper.”

His voice.

I didn’t turn. “You should go back to your reminiscing.”

He sighed. “It’s not what you think.”

I met his reflection in the mirror. “Then tell me what it is.”

“She showed up unannounced,” he said. “I didn’t even know she was back in New York.”

“And yet, somehow, she found her way straight into your office.”

“She’s looking for something,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what yet, but I’ll find out.”

I turned then, anger and something sharper curling in my chest. “You think I’m just jealous?”

His eyes softened slightly. “Aren’t you?”

That stopped me cold.

He stepped closer, closing the space between us until the counter pressed into my back. His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Because I am. Every time someone looks at you, every time you smile at someone else. And I hate that I have no right to be.”

The confession stole my breath.

“Alex…”

He shook his head, stepping back just enough to look at me fully. “Vivienne doesn’t matter anymore. She’s part of a past I buried years ago.”

“Then why does it feel like she’s digging it up again?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. And maybe that was the worst part.

By the time we returned to the office floor, Vivienne was gone. But the whispers weren’t. They followed us like shadows all afternoon.

When we left that evening, the city was humming with rain again. I sat quietly in the car, the glow of the passing streetlights reflecting off the window. Alexander didn’t speak the entire ride, and I didn’t ask what he was thinking.

But as we pulled into the garage beneath his building, he finally said, “She’s not here to win me back. She’s here to destroy me.”

I turned, startled. “What do you mean?”

He looked at me then—really looked—and for the first time since I’d known him, there was fear in his eyes.

“Vivienne doesn’t come back without a reason,” he said quietly. “And if I know her at all… she’s not just here for me. She’s here for us.”