Chapter 60

Chapter 60
The heavy gates creaked open as our car rolled into the driveway of the mansion. I stared through the tinted window, heart thumping hard against my chest. It was like something out of a movie—grand, cold, and silent. The building loomed in front of us like it didn’t just hold memories—it collected secrets.

“This is it,” Dominic said from beside me, his voice flat, like this place didn’t hold meaning to him anymore. Or maybe it never did.

I swallowed. “Big place.”

He didn’t respond.

The car came to a stop in front of the marble steps, and the driver got out immediately. Dominic didn’t wait. He stepped out first, the door clicking shut behind him. I sat frozen for a second before I finally pushed the handle and followed him out.

The breeze here felt different cooler somehow. Maybe it was just me being nervous. I brushed my hands down the front of my dress. It was a pale lilac with a soft neckline, chosen carefully to look formal, but not flashy. Respectful. Calm.

Dominic stood ahead of me, giving me time to catch up. He didn't say a word, but when our eyes met, he gave a slight nod. It was the same unspoken agreement we always had: “We’re in this together. Pretend if you must.”

A servant opened the double doors, bowing slightly. We stepped inside.

The air smelled of polished wood, subtle cologne, and old money. Everything was marble, gold, and glass—designed to impress, not comfort. A massive chandelier hung above us, twinkling as if mocking my unease.

“This way, sir,” the butler said politely and gestured to the left hallway. “Mr. Hector will be with you shortly. Please wait in the formal living room.”

Dominic gave him a nod, then turned to me. “You okay?”

“Do I look okay?” I whispered back, forcing a shaky smile.

His lip twitched in what could’ve been amusement. “Just don’t faint.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” I murmured and followed him down the hall.

The living room was beautiful, large enough to hold three of my childhood homes inside it. A long, low coffee table sat at the center, with two armchairs and a long cream-colored couch surrounding it. Everything looked untouched, like no one actually lived here.

Dominic sat on the couch, leaning back with one arm draped casually over the backrest. I took the farthest end of the same couch, leaving a good amount of space between us. We were supposed to be mates, but we’d learned quickly how to play the roles without overdoing it. Physical closeness wasn’t needed unless someone was watching.

There was a silver tray on the table holding a glass jug of water and two crystal glasses. I poured myself one, my fingers trembling slightly. My nerves were getting louder, buzzing through my limbs.

“What if he doesn’t believe it?” I asked quietly. Watching as my father was led inside ahead of us.

Dominic didn’t look at me. “He will. You heard what the doctor said your father was convinced the moment we walked into that room. He’s not going to question it. And neither will mine.” I could tell it was a forced confidence.

I stared down at my glass. “I still feel like I’m lying to everyone.”

“You are,” he said simply. “So am I.”

There was no comfort in that truth.

The clock ticked softly from the wall. Every second that passed made the room feel heavier.

I tried to distract myself, letting my eyes wander across the shelves on the side of the room. There were books, expensive-looking ones. A few sculptures, probably antique. One was of a howling wolf made of dark stone. I wondered if it meant something or if it was just a decorative touch.

“Is he usually late?” I asked, glancing over at Dominic.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “He makes people wait. It’s his way of reminding you he’s in control.”

My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to meet this man. I didn’t want to lie to his face. But I also didn’t want to imagine what would happen if we didn’t do this.

After what felt like twenty more minutes, I stood and walked over to the large window, pretending to admire the garden outside. It was beautiful—trimmed hedges, a stone pathway, roses in soft pink and deep red. But it felt too neat, too staged. Like everything else in this house.

“You used to live here?” I asked him without turning around.

“Yeah,” he replied shortly.

“Alone?”

“No. My father was here. Servants. Guards. People who acted like furniture.” His voice held a bitter edge. “But no one real.”

I turned to him. “Do you hate him?”

He looked at me for a long moment. “I don’t think hate covers it.”

I swallowed and returned to the couch. “Then why are we doing this?”

“To get him off my back. To get you out of your debt.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t start second-guessing it now, Eva. We both agreed.”

“I know,” I muttered. “It’s just… it feels wrong sometimes.”

“Life usually does.”

Silence stretched again. The clock’s ticking filled the room. I shifted in my seat, smoothing down my dress, glancing once more toward the hallway.

Just then, footsteps echoed faintly.

I straightened, my breath catching in my throat. Dominic didn’t move, but I could feel his tension rise beside me. The footsteps got louder, slower. Like whoever it was wanted to drag out the suspense.

A second later, the double doors at the far end of the room opened.

And there he was.

Hector.

He didn’t look old. Not in the way I expected. His hair was a mix of silver and dark strands, slicked back neatly. His suit was sharp, perfectly tailored, and his presence filled the room the moment he stepped in.

His eyes—sharp, cold, and calculating moved straight to Dominic. Then, slowly, to me.

I stood up, trying not to show how fast my heart was beating. My palms felt sweaty, and my legs suddenly felt too weak for my heels.

Dominic stood too, slower, like this was just another meeting to him. But I saw the way his jaw clenched. The tension in his shoulders.

Hector walked in fully, the doors closing behind him with a soft click.

There was no greeting. No welcome. Just that heavy silence.

“Dominic,” Hector finally said