My Fake Broke Billionaire - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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I slipped into the restroom, hastily wiping away my tears before touching up my makeup and using eye drops to erase any traces of redness.
One final glance in the mirror confirmed my poker face was back in place. Satisfied, I pushed open the door to the adjacent private room where my client's wife, Hanna Calby, sat waiting.
The woman was breathtaking—every poised movement radiating old-money elegance.
This project was my golden ticket. Closing it meant my years of savings, combined with the bonus, would finally secure a down payment for a decent apartment in this cutthroat city.
I'd planned to surprise Kaiden with the news when everything was finalized.
Now? That dream felt as hollow as my chest.
My notoriously difficult client had one soft spot: his wife. That's why I'd orchestrated this meeting.
Hanna came from generational wealth—blunt-spoken but not unkind. When I'd learned about her newfound obsession with perfumery, I'd seized the opportunity by introducing her to my perfumer friend.
"Apologies for the wait, Ms. Calby," I said smoothly, taking the seat across from her.
She barely glanced up from her phone, merely tilting her chin in acknowledgment.
Then my own phone vibrated. A new Facebook post from Hanna appeared—photos from a yacht party featuring a bottle of custom perfume. My breath hitched when I zoomed in on the background.
There, in the corner of one shot, stood a familiar broad-shouldered silhouette in a black tux.
Even in profile, I'd recognize Kaiden anywhere.
My composure cracked before I could stop myself. "Ms. Calby, do you know Kaiden Xavier?"
Her head snapped up, eyebrows lifting. "You're familiar with him?"
"Only by reputation," I lied through a stiff smile. "He just caught my eye in your photo."
"Oh that?" She waved a manicured hand. "His engagement party last month. I meant to photograph the sunset—he just photobombed it. Should probably delete that."
Engagement party?
The words hit like a sucker punch. Last month. The 25th.
My birthday.
The day Kaiden had claimed to be on a "critical business trip"—the one where he'd miraculously earned a performance bonus.
My vision blurred as the knife twisted deeper.
Hanna's gaze sharpened. "Whatever you're thinking about Kaiden—don't. That man's trouble."
I forced a laugh that sounded tinny even to me. "Just disappointed I missed networking opportunities with the Xaviers."
Her shoulders relaxed. "Well, his wedding's on the 10th. I'll get you an invite—help you schmooze."
My nails bit crescent moons into my palms, but my smile never wavered. "I'd appreciate that."
Later, as Hanna and my perfumer friend chatted animatedly, she paused at the door with a knowing look. "I see what you're doing. While I don't meddle in my husband's business... I'll put in a good word where I can."
It wasn't a guarantee, but it was hope.
By nightfall, I returned to our apartment. Golden light spilled from the kitchen where Kaiden moved with practiced ease—the rhythmic chop of vegetables harmonizing with sizzling aromas.
This tiny space, just us two leaning against each other after long days, had always been my sanctuary.
I'd lost my parents young. My aunt and uncle took me in, kind but never truly home.
Not like this.
Not like him.
One final glance in the mirror confirmed my poker face was back in place. Satisfied, I pushed open the door to the adjacent private room where my client's wife, Hanna Calby, sat waiting.
The woman was breathtaking—every poised movement radiating old-money elegance.
This project was my golden ticket. Closing it meant my years of savings, combined with the bonus, would finally secure a down payment for a decent apartment in this cutthroat city.
I'd planned to surprise Kaiden with the news when everything was finalized.
Now? That dream felt as hollow as my chest.
My notoriously difficult client had one soft spot: his wife. That's why I'd orchestrated this meeting.
Hanna came from generational wealth—blunt-spoken but not unkind. When I'd learned about her newfound obsession with perfumery, I'd seized the opportunity by introducing her to my perfumer friend.
"Apologies for the wait, Ms. Calby," I said smoothly, taking the seat across from her.
She barely glanced up from her phone, merely tilting her chin in acknowledgment.
Then my own phone vibrated. A new Facebook post from Hanna appeared—photos from a yacht party featuring a bottle of custom perfume. My breath hitched when I zoomed in on the background.
There, in the corner of one shot, stood a familiar broad-shouldered silhouette in a black tux.
Even in profile, I'd recognize Kaiden anywhere.
My composure cracked before I could stop myself. "Ms. Calby, do you know Kaiden Xavier?"
Her head snapped up, eyebrows lifting. "You're familiar with him?"
"Only by reputation," I lied through a stiff smile. "He just caught my eye in your photo."
"Oh that?" She waved a manicured hand. "His engagement party last month. I meant to photograph the sunset—he just photobombed it. Should probably delete that."
Engagement party?
The words hit like a sucker punch. Last month. The 25th.
My birthday.
The day Kaiden had claimed to be on a "critical business trip"—the one where he'd miraculously earned a performance bonus.
My vision blurred as the knife twisted deeper.
Hanna's gaze sharpened. "Whatever you're thinking about Kaiden—don't. That man's trouble."
I forced a laugh that sounded tinny even to me. "Just disappointed I missed networking opportunities with the Xaviers."
Her shoulders relaxed. "Well, his wedding's on the 10th. I'll get you an invite—help you schmooze."
My nails bit crescent moons into my palms, but my smile never wavered. "I'd appreciate that."
Later, as Hanna and my perfumer friend chatted animatedly, she paused at the door with a knowing look. "I see what you're doing. While I don't meddle in my husband's business... I'll put in a good word where I can."
It wasn't a guarantee, but it was hope.
By nightfall, I returned to our apartment. Golden light spilled from the kitchen where Kaiden moved with practiced ease—the rhythmic chop of vegetables harmonizing with sizzling aromas.
This tiny space, just us two leaning against each other after long days, had always been my sanctuary.
I'd lost my parents young. My aunt and uncle took me in, kind but never truly home.
Not like this.
Not like him.
End of My Fake Broke Billionaire Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to My Fake Broke Billionaire book page.