Emery Caldwell has only two priorities: her two-year-old son, Noah, and staying safe from the demons of her past. Once manipulated by Caleb, her son's charming but dangerous father, Emery rebuilt her life with walls no one could scale. Her job in crisis media management keeps her surrounded by the damage she can contain. But when Rhyland Ward moves into her high-security building, guarded, enigmatic tech mogul with his dark past the walls begin to crack. Sparks fly, but Emery has no intention of letting romance into her fragile world. To secure an investment Rhyland proposes a fake engagement to Emery. As public figures, visibility could be their shield. Together, they perform a life of luxury, intimacy, and stability all for the camera. But behind closed doors, they navigate trauma, trust, and simmering attraction. Emery is terrified of loving, of losing, of needing someone again. That is until Caleb resurfaces with a threat. One photo. One message. And Noah is gone. Rhyland doesn't hesitate. He mobilizes resources, burns bridges, and joins Emery in the hunt. When they recover Noah, it's clear: this isn't over. Caleb isn't working alone. Someone bigger, more connected, is playing a long game and they've marked Emery's family as targets. But the deeper they go into the ruse, the more real it feels. Rhyland becomes Noah's protector. Emery becomes his sanctuary. And the lies they tell the world become the truths they hide from each other. Meanwhile, the threat evolves. A symbol appears. Then a second. Clues point to something beyond Caleb, a shadow network with ties to Rhyland's early business dealings. As enemies close in, secrets unravel. Emery must decide if she can forgive Rhyland's past, even while her own catches up. Rhyland chooses between control and vulnerability because love isn't a tech problem he can solve. It's a risk he has to take. In the end, survival won't be enough. They'll have to choose each other.

Chapter 1 THE LIES THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING THING

"You're late."

Rhyland Cross leaned against the marble reception desk like he owned the place which, knowing him, he probably did. He had one hand shoved in his pocket, the other cradling a phone he wasn't using. His gaze skimmed down my body, pausing on the crumpled diaper bag slung across my shoulder and the sleepy toddler clinging to my neck.

Fantastic. I was ten minutes late and already being judged by a man who once thought "cleaning up" meant removing the vodka bottles before a girl woke up.

"You're still a jerk," I said, adjusting my grip on Noah. "Some things never change."

"Neither do your manners," he said, pushing off the desk and walking toward me like a wolf circling a rabbit. "Didn't know house-sitting came with attitude."

"I didn't know babysitting came with billionaire baggage."

His brow rose, amused. "That's your way of calling me hot?"

I let out a dry laugh. "No. That's my way of calling you the most exhausting man I've ever met."

Noah squirmed in my arms, his tiny hand smacking against my cheek as he babbled something incoherent. Teething was doing things to this child, demonic things.

I glanced around the penthouse lobby. Glass walls, high ceilings, a chandelier that probably cost more than my college degree. My brother's place was intimidating even on video calls in person. It felt like I'd walked onto the set of a reality show where poor people got voted off one by one.

"Where is my brother?" I asked. "He said he'd meet me."

"Delayed flight," Rhyland said. "Dubai storms grounded his jet. You've got me instead. Lucky you."

Lucky me.

I set Noah down, and he immediately waddled toward a low-slung glass table covered in coffee table books and delicate ceramic sculptures.

"Noah, no," I said, reaching for him

Too late.

Tiny toddler fingers wrapped around the edge of a thousand-dollar art book.

Rhyland stepped in, scooping both the book and my son into his arms in one practised move. He held the book high and Noah low, like a man who'd been dodging sticky fingers for years.

"Not bad," I muttered. "Didn't know you were good with kids."

"I'm not. But I am good at saving furniture."

"You could try not being a smug bastard for five minutes."

"I could," he said, "but where's the fun in that?"

The elevator chimed.

A man stepped out with silver hair, a crisp navy suit, and the kind of aura that said my name is on buildings. He looked around, eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of Rhyland, me, and Noah in the same room.

"Mr. Granger," Rhyland said quickly, setting Noah down and extending a hand. "You're early."

"I like to be," the man said, shaking his hand. "Wanted to meet the family. And this must be your fiancée."

I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"She's-" Rhyland's arm slid around my waist like it belonged there. "Yes. This is Emery. And our son, Noah."

Or what?

Granger's smile deepened. "Wonderful. Family men tend to be more grounded. More dependable."

I was still processing my fiancée and our son when Granger's attention turned to Noah.

"How old is the little guy?"

"Eighteen months," I said automatically.

Rhyland nodded beside me like it was true. I could practically feel the heat rolling off him. I was truly taken off guard.

"Looks just like his father," Granger said with a wink. "You've done well, Rhyland. A family man building a business people love that story."

I turned to Rhyland slowly. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

He smiled politely at Granger. "Excuse us."

I grabbed his wrist and yanked him toward the hallway with enough force to make Noah giggle.

"What the actual hell was that?" I hissed once we were out of earshot. "Fiancée? Son? Are you out of your damn mind?"

"Calm down."

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down? You just made me your fake baby mama in front of a billionaire investor!"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't plan it, all right? He's obsessed with image and wants to invest in people who look like family men. Stable. Settled. Not... me."

"So you panicked and lied?"

"Yes. But it worked. He smiled. He's into it. I can close this deal."

I stared at him. "You are unbelievable."

"Look, you're already here. You need a place. I need a fiancée. It's mutually beneficial."

"Oh, I see," I snapped. "You lie to your investor, and I get free rent in exchange for what? Cooking your meals and acting like I don't hate your guts?"

"No one said anything about cooking," he said. "And you don't hate me. You wish you did."

I shoved his shoulder. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not. I'm offering a deal."

"You're offering a disaster."

"You have nowhere else to go, Emery," he said quietly. "Your ex is still texting you. Your brother's out of the country. This penthouse has security, space, and a spare bedroom. All you have to do is play along when Granger's around. A smile here, a kiss on the cheek there. That's it."

Noah's laugh echoed from the living room. He was dancing now flailing, babbling nonsense, chewing on a throw pillow.

I blinked, caught between fury and exhaustion.

"What's in it for me?" I asked finally.

"Peace. Safety. And when this is over if I land this deal you'll get a cut."

I frowned. "How much?"

"Five figures."

I hesitated.

"You hate me," he said. "But I'd never let anything happen to you or Noah."

That stopped me. For all his flaws, Rhyland had been there the night I called my brother crying, bruised, and terrified after my ex showed up at daycare. It was Rhyland who'd picked me up. Who stood between me and Caleb like a wall. Who punched him hard enough to leave a mark and didn't even apologize.

I hated him for a lot of reasons. But I didn't doubt that he'd protect us.

I looked down the hall where Granger was sipping his drink, talking to my son like he was a boardroom associate.

"This is going to blow up in your face," I muttered.

"Probably," Rhyland said. "But it'll look good until it does."

He held out his hand.

"Do we have a deal?"

I stared at it.

Then at him.

At my son, who had just stuffed a designer coaster down the front of his onesie.

And back at him again.

"Fine," I said. "But if you touch me in public, it better be convincing."

Rhyland's grin was slow. Dangerous. "Oh, I can do convincing."

"And no surprises," I added. "No weddings. No real rings. No actual romance."

"Of course not," he said.

We both knew he was lying

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