Chapter 14
"The door's already off. Want to just move tonight?"
"Move in with me."
Lorraine froze for a second. His words echoed in her mind, pulling at something inside her. That little twinge of emotion was quickly smothered almost as soon as it sparked.
"Tristan, come on... you should go. You've got so many noble and wealthy ladies lined up for you. I'm just some nobody employee. Anyone you pick would be better than me..."
She started to say more, but Tristan cut her off with one sentence.
"Yeah, but not every girl gets the chance to sleep with me."
Oh my God. So the forever-ice-cold Mr. Seymour is actually a virgin, too?
No wonder he came out swinging on day one with the whole "want to try being Mrs. Seymour" line. Turns out, he's... the old-school type.
Lorraine's face lit up like a tomato. She yanked open a water bottle and practically chugged it down to mask her embarrassment.
"Stay safe tonight. Call me if anything comes up." Tristan stood, taking one last glance around the messy room before heading for the door.
"Tristan,"
He paused mid-step, clearly waiting for something - maybe an answer. But all Lorraine said was:
"Thanks."
He didn't say anything. No expression either. He just walked out.
Lorraine stared at his retreating back for a moment... then looked back at the door.
Growing up in a broken home, getting burned in love - yeah, all that had made her swear off marriage.
If it was someone else who slept with him that night, he would still ask the same questions of that person. So it wasn't about her. It was about the situation. That's what she told herself.
Lorraine booked a hotel, called the landlord, and arranged to have the door fixed.
Then, as night fell, she drove to the place where Dylan used to take his car - Samantha's uncle's garage. It was her last act of kindness to Samantha's family.
She was upfront: the dashcam was busted and needed fixing. She even made a point to say she was a friend of Dylan's. The folks there recognized the car - same one Dylan brought in before. So Samantha's uncle personally took a look at the dashcam.
Lorraine acted like she trusted them. Dropped off the car and left.
Not long after, on Wednesday, the engagement was called off.
Samantha's uncle had definitely heard what was on that dashcam and probably found the hidden camera too.
The Tucker family already thought Dylan's lack of feelings for Samantha was enough of a red flag. Add in him wanting her to get rid of the baby? They felt completely disrespected. So, naturally, they called the whole engagement off.
The Ford family was on the verge of collapse. Their precious son hadn't even tied the knot yet and had already gotten someone pregnant - only to find out he couldn't even marry her. The easy win? Gone, just like that.
Karma sure hit hard, and Lorraine was enjoying every bit of it. She'd been in a great mood for days.
Still, she had to get serious about finding a place to stay. If this incident started gaining traction and people figured out she'd played dirty, things could get real messy.
Today, Lorraine was all pumped, ready to head home after work. Standing in front of the elevator, she calmly waited.
Ding-
The elevator doors slid open. Inside were Tristan and Alexander.
History really did have a twisted sense of humor. She stepped in and, just like last time on the 18th floor, got stuck with the chaotic bunch from the PR department.
Lorraine tried to shift sideways to keep some distance from them, especially from Tristan, but failed. They shoved her left and right until, guess what - she ended up right next to him.
She inhaled sharply, feeling like the air had suddenly gone thin.
"Lorraine, can you scoot in a bit more?" one of her coworkers suggested, eyeing the gap between her and Tristan before giving her a nudge.
She stumbled forward, barely kept her balance, and reflexively reached out for support - only to grab a warm, strong hand.
"Ah!" Lorraine gasped, snapping back upright, trying to yank her hand away. But he wouldn't let go.
Dead end! If someone saw this, she'd have no way to clear things up - it'd look way too sketchy.
Just then, her phone buzzed - thankfully, a perfectly timed distraction.
Taking the chance, she slipped her hand free. It was a message from the tailor.
Tailor: [Your order's ready. Can you come pick it up tonight?]
Lorraine: [Okay.]
Tailor: [Your boyfriend's gonna love it.]
Uhh...
She stared at the text and quickly locked the screen.
Too late, though—Tristan had already seen it: the familiar profile picture, the location tag, and worst of all... the word "boyfriend."
The elevator reached the basement level. Lorraine headed out in a hurry and got in her car. GPS on, she drove out.
Her car stopped at the gates of a grand estate. Security wouldn't let her in, but the pin clearly pointed inside. She was about to text and ask when a message came through.
Tailor: [Wait at the gate, I'll be there in two minutes.]
Lorraine got out, taking in the view in front of her.
What stood beyond the entrance could put any postcard to shame - a cathedral-style castle with fields of grass stretching in between, dotted with cotton trees swaying quietly in the breeze. It was stunning.
Just then, a familiar car rolled up beside hers. The window slid down - Tristan. They looked at each other, neither expecting to meet like this.
A bodyguard opened the gate for Tristan, but he didn't go in just yet.
"Ah, there you are, granddaughter-in-law!" Grandpa Morris Seymour's cheerful voice called out as he came rushing from the estate with a huge grin.
"Granddaughter-in-law?"
The two of them froze, completely stunned right at the gate.
"Why are you two driving separately?" Morris glanced between them. "What's this, did you two have a fight?"
Lorraine immediately shot a pleading look at Tristan.
Tristan let out a small, sarcastic chuckle and stepped out of the car. "Grandpa, go on in first."
He took his grandfather's arm and gently nudged him toward the gate. Morris clearly wanted to stay and nose into the drama but, realizing it'd be awkward to interfere, grudgingly stopped and decided to sneakily eavesdrop instead.
Tristan walked over to Lorraine, his voice frosty. "What's going on?"
She took a nervous step back, hands slightly raised. "I swear, I don't know. I only came to pick up the shirt."
"Then why did Grandpa call you my fiancée?" His tone was cold, with a hint of irritation and... maybe even hurt.
"I have no idea..." Lorraine paused, thinking it over. "I asked him to custom-make a shirt for you... you know, to make up for what I ruined..."
Tristan blinked. "You knew my size?"
She bit her lip. "No... Not really. I took your jacket with me. Then I told him... told him..."
Her face suddenly flushed a bright pink.
"Told him what?"
"...That it was a gift for my boyfriend. I asked him to match the size based on your suit jacket."
Her voice dropped so low it was barely audible - completely different from her usual snappy tone.
Smart move.
Tristan let out a low laugh through his nose. "You're screwed."
He crossed his arms, frown deepening as his gaze drifted to his grandpa, who was still pretending not to look but clearly watching like a hawk.
"Did I mess everything up?" Lorraine peeked at him cautiously.
Tristan's eyes darkened. "My grandpa made all my clothes. They've got my name inside. You said it's for your boyfriend. How do you think he'd take that?"
He exhaled slowly. "No wonder he asked if one of my shirts got ripped the other day..."
Only now did it hit Lorraine just how big of a mess she'd made.
"You know what today is?" Tristan's eyes locked onto her, unreadable.
"What day?" She clutched nervously at the hem of her dress.
"My grandfather's 80th birthday. Every single relative and friend we have is here."
Her knees nearly gave out. Big family gatherings like this were basically live-action soap operas - one wrong move and you were toast.
Tristan stood silently, waiting for her to decide.
"What should I do?" Lorraine mumbled, clenching her fists. No wonder they didn't ask for a deposit or size - it all made sense now.
"The guest of honor came out to greet you personally. Pretty sure everyone inside's waiting for his future granddaughter-in-law to walk in."
Panic shot through Lorraine's eyes as she looked at him, almost crying out with her gaze: help me, please.
"Either come in with me, or go explain this to Grandpa yourself." Tristan tilted his head slightly toward Morris.
If she turned and ran now, Tristan would be the hot topic of the night. But if she went in and tried to explain... how exactly was she supposed to do that?
