Chapter 8
HALLIE
“So you’re actually going to marry him.” My mother sat across from me at our small dining table, her wine glass suspended halfway to her lips, her expression caught somewhere between shock and concern.
Hallie and April flanked her on either side, both of them leaning forward like they were watching the season finale of their favorite show.
It was our typical dinner. My mom got lonely so we had started inviting her over for dinner a few times a month.
I liked that my roommates accepted her as one of us.
She was my mom and friend. I loved our relationship.
I loved that I could be honest with her.
I was pretty sure I was violating the NDA a little, but I trusted these women.
They would keep my secret.
“Fake marry him,” I corrected, stabbing at my pasta primavera. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” Mom set down her glass. Her eyes, the same dark brown as mine, searched my face. “Because it sounds like you’re going through with an actual wedding ceremony.”
“Without the legal paperwork,” I emphasized. “It’s all for show. Six months, then it’s over. The dress. Guests. Ceremony but no marriage license. No one will know.”
The news had broken yesterday. I’d woken up to seventeen missed calls and a flood of text messages, all because someone had published photos of Colt and me at Valenteen. The images were everywhere, splashed across gossip sites, entertainment blogs, even a few legitimate news outlets.
Billionaire Playboy Finally Settles Down.
Colt Jesson Off the Market.
Who is Hallie Bellrose?
I shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t like I didn’t know there were photographers. I just didn’t think people would actually care.
“I still can’t believe it,” Hallie said, reaching for the garlic bread. “You’re engaged to Colt Jesson. The guy who—”
“Trust me, I’m aware of the irony.”
“Irony?” April snorted. “Babe, this is basically a Greek tragedy waiting to happen.”
“Or a revenge fantasy,” I countered. “Depends on how you look at it.”
Mom sighed and shook her head. The lines around her eyes deepened with worry. “Hallie, honey. What exactly are you planning to do?”
I glanced between my roommates and my mother. These three women knew me better than anyone. They deserved the truth.
“I’m going to make him fall in love with me,” I said simply. “And then I’m going to break his heart. Just like he broke mine.”
The table went silent.
“Plus,” I added, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m making a ton of money in the process. So, you know, there’s that.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Mom whispered, making the sign of the cross even though we weren’t particularly religious.
“Mom, the money is worth it,” I said. “I’ll have the money to fix the house.”
Mom’s expression softened at the mention of my father. “The Hampton house.”
“I’m going to bring it back to life,” I said, my voice catching slightly. “Make it beautiful again. The way Dad always wanted it to be.”
“He would love that.” Mom’s voice held the usual emotion that came with talking about my late father. “But, Hallie, he’d also be worried about you doing this.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“If your father was still alive, he’d raise absolute hell.” A small smile tugged at her lips despite her concern. “He’d probably say something like, ‘No daughter of mine is going to marry a prick like Colt Jesson.’”
I laughed because she was right. Dad had never been one to mince words, especially when it came to protecting the people he loved. He’d been a gentle man in many ways, but he also had a fierce streak a mile wide when someone threatened his family.
And Colt had threatened me, even if he didn’t know it. Had hurt me in ways that had taken years to heal from.
The memory hit me without warning, pulling me back to that night ten years ago.
The night I’d sat on the beach until well past sunset, waiting for a boy who never came.
I’d been seventeen and so stupidly in love, convinced that Colt Jesson was going to tell me something important. Something that would change everything.
Instead, I’d gotten nothing but silence and humiliation.
I’d driven home in tears, my heart feeling like it had been put through a shredder, my pride in tatters. The humiliation had been almost worse than the heartbreak.
Almost.
I’d found my dad that night in his workshop at the beach house, the same house I was now planning to restore.
He’d been tinkering with his old motorcycle, grease on his hands and Led Zeppelin playing from a beat-up radio.
When he’d seen me standing in the doorway with mascara running down my face, he’d dropped everything.
“Who do I need to kill?” he’d asked, only half-joking.
I told him everything. About Colt. About waiting on the beach. About feeling like the biggest fool in the world.
Dad had pulled me into a hug that smelled like motor oil and Old Spice, and then he’d done something unexpected. He’d grabbed his keys and taken me for a long ride down the coast, the motorcycle rumbling beneath us as we’d chased the wind.
“I ever tell you about my first heartbreak?” he’d asked over the wind.
I remember shaking my head and clinging to him.
“Her name was Michelle. Thought she was the one. Thought I’d marry her straight out of high school.” I could still hear the sound of his laughter. “She dumped me for a guy with a Camaro. Destroyed me. I thought I’d never get over it.”
“How long did it take?” I asked him.
“About six months. Maybe a year.” He glanced back at me, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “And then I met your mother, and I realized Michelle had done me the biggest favor of my life. Sometimes we have to get our hearts broken so we can find the person who’s actually meant for us.”
“What if there’s no one meant for me?” My voice had been so small, so broken.
“Then you’re meant for yourself,” he’d said firmly. “And that’s not a bad thing, Janie. Being whole on your own? That’s important whether you’re hitched or not.”
We had stopped at an overlook and watched the stars. He had promised me it would get better. That the embarrassment would fade. He told me I would look back on the moment someday and see it for what it was—just a blip in a long, beautiful life.
And he’d been right. Eventually, it had gotten better.
But I’d never forgotten that night. Never forgotten the way my insides had twisted with humiliation. The way I’d felt small and stupid and utterly disposable.
“Hallie?” Hallie’s voice pulled me back to the present. “You okay?”
I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at my wine glass for who knows how long. “Yeah. Sorry. Just remembering.”
“Your dad?” Mom asked gently.
“Yeah.” I smiled, even though my eyes were stinging. “He’d probably think this whole plan is insane.”
“Oh, he’d definitely think it’s insane,” Mom agreed. “But I also think he’d be cheering you on. You know how he was about people getting their comeuppance.”
I did know. Dad had believed in karma and justice. He always said the universe eventually set things right. And if the universe needed a little help? Well, he’d never been opposed to giving it a push.
“Colt Jesson is going down,” I said, raising my wine glass. “And Dad would be proud.”
“To revenge,” April said, clinking her glass against mine.
“To five hundred thousand dollars,” Hallie added.
“To being careful,” Mom said quietly, her glass joining ours. “And to coming out of this in one piece.”
We drank, and then the conversation shifted to logistics.
“So what happens now?” April asked. “When do you start fake-wifing?”
“It’s already started.” I pulled out my phone and opened the email Colt had sent earlier. “He sent me an itinerary. It’s bonkers.”
I turned the screen so they could see the color-coded calendar charting the next several weeks.
Fundraisers. Galas. Investor meetings. Public appearances. Lunch with his business partners. Dinner with his sister.
“When are you supposed to do all this?” Hallie scrolled through the dates. “You have like three events next week alone.”
“I quit my job today,” I said.
Mom coughed, clearly shocked. “You quit?”
I nodded. I had avoided telling her that part. I knew exactly what she was going to say when I told her. “It was in the contract. No wife of Colt Jesson clocks in for a nine-to-five.” I rolled my eyes. “His words, not mine. Apparently, it would look bad for his image.”
“Hallie.” Mom’s voice was thick with concern. “What if this doesn’t work out? What if something goes wrong?”
“Then I find another salon,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Or I rent my chair back. Laura said she’d hold it for me if she could. The risk is small, especially considering the money.”
“The money isn’t everything.”
“No, but it’s enough to restore the house. And the money is more than I would make in five years. Mom, I know this is scary. I know it’s risky. But I need to do this. Not just for the money, but for closure, I guess. Colt broke something in me ten years ago. Maybe this is my chance to fix it.”
“Or maybe he’ll break you again,” she said softly.
“He won’t. Because this time, I’m in control. This time, I know exactly what he is. And I won’t make the mistake of falling for him again.”
Even as I said the words, something uncomfortable shifted in my chest. But I ignored it.
“I’m sorry if you guys get a lot of media attention,” I said, looking around the table. “Apparently, I’m now a person of public interest. Which is wild. But if reporters start showing up, or if people start asking questions, just don’t answer. And I’ll give you money. For the inconvenience.”
“We don’t want your money,” Hallie said firmly. “We want you to be safe.”
“And happy,” April added. “Although I would love some money.”
“I’ll be safe,” I promised, grinning. “Just… you might not see much of me over the next couple months. This schedule is packed.”
Mom looked at me with an expression that said there was a lecture on the tip of her tongue.
I could see her warring with herself on whether or not she should say it.
The protective mother who wanted to lock me in my room and keep me safe versus the woman who’d raised me to be independent and make my own choices.
Finally, she sighed. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“If it gets to be too much. If he hurts you or if you feel like you’re in over your head. Promise you’ll walk away. Contract or no contract. Promise me.”
I thought about the hundred and fifty grand already sitting in my bank account. About the beach house and all the memories wrapped up in those weathered walls. About the look on Colt’s face when I would finally tell him who I really was and what he’d done to me.
“I promise,” I said.
We finished dinner talking about lighter things, like April’s new boyfriend, Hallie’s hope to get promoted, Mom’s book club drama. But underneath it all, I could feel the weight of what I’d agreed to. The clock was ticking. Valentine’s Day was less than two months away.
And somewhere across the city, Colt Jesson was probably planning our next public appearance, completely unaware that the woman he’d hired to fix his reputation was planning to destroy him instead.
My father would have loved the poetry of it.
Take his money. Break his heart. Get even.
I repeated the mantra silently.