Chapter 10 Mr. and Mrs. Tate
The headline ran across every screen in the mansion:
> "EXCLUSIVE: Billionaire Jasper Tate Secretly Married? Meet the Mysterious Mrs. Tate!"
Layla nearly dropped her spoon into her cereal bowl as she stared at the morning news. Her face — her actual face — was there, right next to Jasper’s. A paparazzi photo from Grandpa Gregory’s birthday, where Jasper had his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek.
Jasper walked in, phone in hand. “It’s everywhere.”
“No kidding,” Layla muttered, cheeks flushed.
Jasper sat across from her, not the least bit surprised. “I figured it would come out eventually. We’ve been out in public too much. Someone was bound to sell a photo.”
Layla’s heart raced. “But… this means people will ask questions. About our wedding, our history, everything.”
He leaned forward with a smirk. “Then we just have to keep playing the part, Mrs. Tate.”
The way he said that made something flutter inside her chest.
---
That afternoon, Jasper’s assistant walked into his office, looking stressed.
“Sir. You need to be aware… your ex-fiancée is flying in from New York. She wants to talk.”
Jasper’s expression darkened.
Layla, seated nearby flipping through charity events they’d attend as a couple, glanced up. “Ex-fiancée?”
“Danika Monroe,” Jasper said flatly. “High society, model, manipulative. She wanted the Tate name more than she wanted me.”
“And now she’s coming here?” Layla asked, her voice stiff.
“She probably saw the headlines and thinks she can break this whole thing apart.”
Layla set the papers down slowly. “Let her come.”
Jasper blinked. “Excuse me?”
“She won’t win. We’re not pretending anymore — at least, not when it comes to protecting each other.” Her jaw clenched. “Let her come.”
Jasper stared at her for a moment, something proud glinting in his eyes.
“You really do make a good Mrs. Tate.”
---
The press was relentless.
Cameras followed them into charity events, fundraisers, and dinner galas. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the mysterious woman who’d won Jasper Tate’s heart.
Layla handled it with grace — smiling, standing tall in borrowed designer dresses, and always holding Jasper’s arm like it was second nature.
At one gala, a woman gasped when she saw them enter.
“It’s true! Mr. and Mrs. Tate. They’re stunning together.”
Layla was stunned how naturally the name rolled off people’s tongues. It felt strange… but also powerful.
And sometimes, real.
---
That night, as they returned to the mansion, Layla kicked off her heels with a tired sigh.
Jasper walked in behind her, hands in his pockets. “You handled today like a pro.”
She glanced at him. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Tate.”
He smiled softly. “Do you ever think about how crazy this is?”
“Every day.”
“And yet,” he whispered, taking her hand, “I don’t want it to end.”
Layla looked up, her heart pounding.
And then, he kissed her.
Not because someone was watching.
Not because they had to.
But because he wanted to.
Because maybe…
Just maybe…
There was more truth in their fake marriage than either of them had expected.
---