Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player - Chapter 95: Chapter 95

EMILIA
“Diana Vanderbilt. Twenty-two years old. Stanford graduate at twenty, dual degrees in business management and software development. At fifteen, she pitched the integration of predictive AI algorithms into Vanderbilt Holdings’ financial analytics suite — a move that slashed risk margins by 38% and tripled profits in under two years. Only recognised child of Genevieve and Andrew Vanderbilt. Heir to their billion-dollar empire. Spends her time between golf clubs, tech summits, and black-tie galas. Owns six Range Rovers, vacation homes on every continent, and is allegedly already done with her PhD.”
I exhale. “All that’s missing is her blood type, coffee order, and the name of her pet snake.”
“A positive. Venti iced white mocha, extra caramel drizzle, vanilla sweet cream cold foam, five pumps of white mocha, four toffee nut, two hazelnut, topped with whip and cinnamon dolce sprinkles. Blonde espresso shot. Oat milk. Light ice. And Vixi.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and just stare at it. “Jesus, Kara. I was joking.”
A pause. Then, deadpan: “Oh.” Kara is Adrian’s friend from grad school — which means, fortunately, she’s also somehow in my life now. And if Adrian’s awkward, Kara’s basically a sentient algorithm. Same tone. Same fixation on irrelevant details. “But why do you want Diana looked into? Adrian said she wasn’t suspicious.”
I open my mouth to respond — then wince as two different songs start blaring outside Liam’s room. Both at full volume. Both coming from opposite sides of the hall.
Maya warned me this would happen. “Eliza’s dragging Lucille into her emo era,” she’d said. “It’ll be over before our parents get back.”
The Calloways had been... exactly what I expected and nothing like it. Once I got over the fact that they all looked like clones — same blonde hair, same blue eyes — it was easier to realise they were actually really sweet.
Eliza showed up halfway through dinner covered in purple and green paint, grabbed an apple from the fridge, turned around, saw me and Liam at the table — and completely froze, before trying to pull us into a hug.
Lucille and Luka joined a minute later, and from there it became chaos in the most wholesome way.
The girls took turns babying Luka, who has the flu; Veronica cut his steak into perfect little bites, while Julie roped Liam into some scheme about destroying Lucille’s bullies.
“It’s because she’s quiet and easily influenced,” Julie had muttered to Liam and me, glancing toward Lucille at the other end of the table. “She lets people walk all over her.”
“That’s Eliza’s influence,” Liam said quietly. “Luci’s used to going along with whatever she says. She’s sixteen — of course she’s trying to figure herself out, and she’s looking to her older siblings to do it. I just wish she’d look to her twin instead.”
He scooped mashed potatoes onto my plate like it was an act of war. Jaw tight. Eyes darker than they had been all evening. His grip on the spoon was just a little too hard.
I almost didn’t have the nerve to tell him I could do it myself.
But then he looked at me, and just like that — softer. “Do you want cranberry sauce? It’s really good.”
“Okay,” I said, even though I don’t like cranberry sauce.
“She doesn’t even realise they’re bullying her,” Julie mutters, visibly irritated now. “Seth went to her school to talk to the principal, and she got mad. Told him he was just trying to chase her friends away.”
If it’s even possible, Liam’s expression darkens. “That’s because he handled it badly.”
“Exactly.” Julie nods, dead serious. “All he had to do was tie those little fucks up and lock them in a rundown shed. Blast a few animal growls through a speaker, make them think there are feral dogs outside waiting to eat them alive. After a few hours without food, water, or light, they’ll think twice before telling Lucille to drink toilet water with a straw.”
My stomach flips. I glance at Lucille.
She’s dimpling up at Eliza like nothing happened. Maya’s next to her, gently patting her head, asking if she’s in the mood for ice cream. Lucille nods, her blonde hair bouncing in pigtails, both her eyes and the bridge of her nose red-rimmed.
My heart cracks. She’s so young. So eager to be loved.
Too similar to how I was at sixteen.
I turn back to Liam and Julie. “Where’s Seth?” I ask. The name comes out before I can stop it — the brother Mar once saved from drowning. Just thinking about that story makes my chest tighten. “Isn’t he coming for dinner?”
The silence that followed was immediate. They both went still.
Kara’s voice nudges the back of my mind again. And once I’m past the noise, the weirdness, and the fact that they’re clearly hiding something, I finally answer her.
“He’s a bit Diana-biased,” I say, quieter now. “Always has been. He’s never been able to see her faults. But more importantly — my sister’s too smart for her own good. It won’t take her long to figure out someone’s digging around.”
“And remind me why we’re digging in the first place?”
I sit on the bed and start rubbing at my feet. “Because I’m sure she’s behind that threat. I just don’t know why Liam’s tied up in it.”
Kara sighs. That’s her way of saying she’s done trying to talk me out of it. She switches lanes instead. “Your Liam was right, by the way — Stone and Céline are in Dubai.”
I’d only asked out of mild curiosity last week. I mentioned it to Liam in passing — where would Céline have taken Stone?
He barely paused before answering. “If I were a social-climbing, money-laundering, husband-snatching thief who just walked off with fifteen million and a threat from my ex-best friend — who’s weirdly fluent in Russian roulette and has terrifyingly good aim — where else would I go but Dubai?”
The memory makes me smile.
It’s only been a little over an hour since Liam brought me to his room, said he had to talk to Lucille, and promised he’d be back. I already miss him.
I fight the urge to storm out and drag him back myself and do the next best thing: keep talking to Kara.
“Regular season’s around the corner. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
“Do we have to wait that long?”
My smile grows. “I’ll be damned if I ever see his sorry ass on ice again. A—”
The window rattles. Loud enough to cut through the chaos of two clashing songs blaring from opposite rooms. I freeze.
Kara must hear it too. “Wait— what was that?”
I frown, standing slowly. There’s a strange déjà vu curling in my stomach. “No clue. I’ll call you back, okay?”
I hang up, eyes locked on the window as it rattles again — more insistent this time.
There’s a mop in the corner. I grab it, hands tightening around the handle just as the window slams open and someone hauls themselves in with a grunt.
I brace. I’m ready to go full Final Girl with this mopstick when the guy lands on his feet and straightens up.
And for a second — just one second — my heart stops.
“Liam?”
But it’s not. It can’t be. The face is almost identical, but the hair’s lighter, the jaw softer. There’s the faint glint of piercings in his ear, something dark inked beneath the edge of his sleeve. Liam doesn’t have tattoos.
He hasn’t noticed me yet. He mutters something under his breath, moves to shut the window behind him — and then he turns.
He freezes.
So do I.
His eyes narrow. “Who the fuck are you?”