Chapter 10 TEN

Maria left around noon with promises to return tomorrow and a tupperware container of something that smelled incredible. Lennox stood in the kitchen doorway watching the elevator doors close, and then she was alone.

Actually alone, for the first time since she'd agreed to this insanity.

The penthouse stretched around her in every direction, eight thousand square feet of emptiness. She could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator, the air conditioning cycling on somewhere, the muffled sounds of the city forty stories below. But inside these walls? Nothing. Just her and all this space that didn't belong to her.

Lennox started exploring properly, room by room, like she was touring a museum after hours.

The living room had furniture that looked like it came from magazines. White couches that probably cost more than her car used to, a coffee table made of glass and some kind of wood she didn't recognize, abstract art on the walls that was either genius or someone had spilled paint and called it done. Everything was arranged perfectly, coordinated, untouched. Like a showroom waiting for real people to move in.

She found Callum's office, or one of them, behind a closed door down the main hallway. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined one wall, filled with leather-bound books that might've been first editions or might've been expensive decoration. His desk was massive, dark wood, completely clear except for a monitor and a single pen placed at a precise angle. Not a paper out of place. Not a coffee mug ring or a sticky note or any sign that an actual human worked here.

Lennox backed out quickly, feeling like she'd invaded somewhere she definitely shouldn't be.

The gym Maria had mentioned was on the lower level, down a floating staircase that probably violated several laws of physics. Treadmill, weights, machines she didn't know the names of, floor to ceiling mirrors that made the space look twice as big. A yoga mat rolled up in the corner. A bluetooth speaker. A small fridge stocked with protein shakes and water bottles arranged by size.

Of course Callum had his own gym. Of course it looked like a fitness magazine spread.

Lennox kept moving. Media room with a screen that took up an entire wall. Wine cellar behind temperature controlled glass. Guest bedrooms that were bigger than her old apartment, each one pristine and impersonal. Bathrooms with fixtures that looked like art installations.

Everything was beautiful. Everything was perfect. And it all felt completely, utterly empty.

Like nobody actually lived here. Like this was just a very expensive hotel that Callum checked into between business meetings.

She ended up back in her bedroom, the guest suite that was supposedly hers now. Her three suitcases sat on the luggage rack where the movers had left them yesterday, looking pathetic against the backdrop of cream-colored walls and designer furniture.

Lennox started unpacking because what else was she going to do? Sit around feeling sorry for herself in a penthouse?

Her clothes looked wrong the second she hung them in the closet. The walk-in closet that was bigger than her old bedroom, with custom shelving and lighting that made everything look expensive. Her clearance rack blouses and cheap jeans hung there like imposters, surrounded by empty space meant for designer labels and couture gowns she didn't own yet.

She had two pairs of shoes that weren't sneakers. One black dress that she'd worn to her interview at Hartley & Associates two years ago, back when she'd thought her biggest problem was student loans. A blazer with a button missing that she kept meaning to fix.

This was everything she owned, and it barely filled one section of the closet.

Lennox sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at her sad little wardrobe, and felt the weight of how much her life had changed crash over her all at once. Three days ago she'd been living in Queens, worried about making rent, eating cereal for dinner. Now she was in a penthouse in Tribeca, about to marry a billionaire, surrounded by luxury she'd never asked for and didn't know how to exist in.

Her phone rang, and she grabbed it like a lifeline.

Gerald Morris. Of course.

"Miss Rivers. How are you settling in?"

"It's fine. Everything's fine." Lennox stood up, started pacing. "Maria was really nice."

"Good. I'm calling about the timeline." Papers shuffling in the background. "The engagement announcement goes out this afternoon. We're releasing it to major outlets at 3 PM, social media at 3:15. Your phone is about to get very busy."

3 PM. In less than three hours, the entire world would know she was marrying Callum Westbrook.

"Okay," Lennox said, even though nothing about this was okay.

"The wedding is scheduled for three weeks from Saturday. Small ceremony, immediate family only, at the Westbrook estate in Connecticut. We'll handle all the planning, you just need to show up and look the part."

Three weeks. She had three weeks before she legally became Mrs. Callum Westbrook.

"That's really fast."

"Mr. Westbrook wants it done quickly and quietly. The faster we move, the less time people have to ask questions." Gerald's tone was matter-of-fact. "You'll need to meet with the stylist tomorrow. She'll handle your wardrobe for events, including the wedding dress. And the PR team wants to brief you on Friday about media interactions."

"Right. Sure. Whatever you need."

"One more thing." Gerald paused. "Your mother called my office this morning."

Lennox's heart stopped. "What?"

"Someone must have tipped her off about the announcement before it goes public. She was very concerned about not hearing from you directly. I told her you'd call her today."

Oh god. Her mom. Lennox hadn't talked to her since before everything imploded, before Ryan, before the arrest threat, before any of this. She'd been avoiding it because what was she supposed to say?

"I'll call her," Lennox said quietly.

"Do it before 3 PM. Before she sees it on the news." Gerald hung up.

Lennox stood there holding her phone, staring at her mom's contact info. She should call. She needed to call. But the thought of lying to her mother, of making up some story about falling in love with a man she'd met three days ago, made her feel sick.

She put the phone down. She'd call later. After the announcement. After she figured out what to say.

The hours crawled by. Lennox tried to eat the lunch Maria had left, managed a few bites, gave up. She tried to watch TV in the media room but couldn't focus. She opened her laptop to check her Cipher monitoring systems but couldn't concentrate on financial data when her entire life was about to change.

At 2:57 PM, she sat on the couch in the living room, phone in hand, watching the minutes tick by.

3:00 PM.

Her phone started buzzing immediately.

Text messages flooded in, one after another after another. People she hadn't talked to in months. High school friends she'd lost touch with. Her cousin who only called at Christmas. That girl from college who'd borrowed fifty bucks and never paid it back.

OMG LENNOX IS THIS REAL???

Girl you're marrying CALLUM WESTBROOK??

How did you even meet him? When did this happen?

Congratulations! So happy for you!

The messages kept coming, dozens of them, people suddenly very interested in her life now that she was connected to money. Now that she was marrying someone important.

Lennox watched them pile up and felt nothing but tired.

Her sister Emma called. Then her mom. Then Emma again. Lennox let them go to voicemail because she couldn't handle that conversation yet, couldn't handle pretending to be happy and in love when she felt like she was drowning.

More texts came in. Facebook messages. Instagram DMs from people she'd forgotten she'd even followed. Everyone wanting to know the story, wanting details, wanting to be part of something exciting.

Apparently marrying a billionaire placed you high on practically everybody’s priority list.

Lennox was about to turn her phone off completely when one more message came through. Unknown number. Probably another old acquaintance crawling out of the woodwork.

She almost didn't open it.

Then she did.

Interesting choice, Lennox. Let's hope he never finds out who you really are.

The phone slipped from her hand.

She picked it up with shaking fingers, read the message again. Then again.

Let's hope he never finds out who you really are.

Who was this? How did they know? Know what, her Cipher identity? The investigation? The fact that this whole thing was fake?

Lennox tried to call the number. It rang once and went to a generic voicemail. She tried again. Same thing.

Her heart was hammering so hard she could hear it. She pulled up the message, stared at those words until they blurred.

Someone knew. Someone knew something, and they'd waited until the exact moment the engagement went public to tell her they knew.

This wasn't random. This wasn't a coincidence.

Lennox sat there on Callum's expensive couch in his empty penthouse, holding a message from someone who could destroy everything, and realized that her problems were so much bigger than she'd thought.

Someone was watching her. Someone knew her secrets. Or did they? This was confusing. Scary yes, but confusing.

God forbid the universe aligned in her favour just this once!