I Faked My Death to Run away from My Cheater Fiancè

The sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my apartment as I leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling through emails about the upcoming fashion show. It was one of the most prestigious events of the year, and being invited to attend was an honor I didn’t take lightly. My stylist had already sent over options for my outfit, and I was mentally preparing for the whirlwind of cameras and flashing lights when Colton walked in.

His voice was casual at first, almost hesitant. “Layla, Georgia wants to go to the fashion show with you.”

I barely looked up from my phone. “Georgia wasn’t invited.”

He sighed, his tone shifting into something softer, almost pleading. “She knows, but she really wants to experience it. She’s never been to an event like this, and you have the connections. Can’t you bring her as your plus-one?”

I finally looked up, narrowing my eyes at him. “My plus-one is reserved for someone who actually deserves to be there. This isn’t just some cocktail party, Colton. It’s an exclusive event, and I’m not going to risk my reputation by dragging along someone who doesn’t belong.”

His brows furrowed, and I could see the irritation creeping into his expression. “You’re making it sound like she’s beneath you. She’s not asking for much, Layla. She just wants to be included.”

I set my phone down, crossing my arms. “This isn’t about inclusion. It’s about boundaries. Georgia doesn’t get to crash events I’ve worked years to be a part of just because she wants to play dress-up.”

“Why do you always have to make things so difficult? You act like she’s trying to steal your career or something. She’s not a threat to you, Layla. Stop being so jealous.”

Jealous. The word hit like a slap. I stared at him, my anger boiling just under the surface. “Jealous? Of Georgia?” I let out a humorless laugh. “You really don’t get it, do you? This has nothing to do with jealousy. It’s about respect—something you and she clearly lack.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might drop it. But no. Colton always had to push. “You have no reason to feel threatened. Georgia admires you, Layla. Why can’t you just be gracious and let her come with you?”

I shook my head, exhausted. He wasn’t listening. He never did. “Fine,” I said finally, my voice flat. “If it’ll stop this argument, I’ll bring her.”

The smug satisfaction on his face was infuriating, but I let it go. Fighting with him was like talking to a brick wall. And if Georgia wanted to embarrass herself by tagging along to an event where she didn’t belong, so be it.

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The days leading up to the show passed in a blur of fittings and preparations. I barely heard from Georgia, though I imagined she was busy selecting the most over-the-top dress she could find. On the morning of the event, I saw her post on social media—something about being “so excited for tonight” with a string of heart and star emojis. I rolled my eyes and put my phone down.

When I arrived at the venue that evening, the energy was electric. Photographers swarmed outside, snapping shots of every celebrity and socialite who stepped onto the carpet. The air buzzed with anticipation, and I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that came with events like these.

Inside, everything was seamless. The décor was stunning, the designs were breathtaking, and I was too caught up in the excitement to think about Georgia—until my phone buzzed in my clutch.

Colton.

I didn’t answer. I had no intention of letting him or her ruin my night. But the buzzing continued, text after text flooding in until I finally gave in and glanced at the screen.

Why is Georgia saying she was turned away?

What’s going on, Layla?

Call me. Now.

I smirked to myself. I hadn’t done anything directly, of course. It wasn’t my fault Georgia was banned from events like this. She had a reputation for sneaking into exclusive spaces she had no business being in, and apparently, the staff at this particular show weren’t about to let it slide.

My phone buzzed again, this time with a call. I hit decline, my annoyance flaring. What did he expect me to do? Apologize for something that wasn’t my fault? If Georgia wanted to play in the big leagues, she needed to learn the rules. And one of those rules was that your reputation followed you everywhere.

The texts were relentless.

Why didn’t you warn her?

You embarrassed her on purpose.

Answer me, Layla. I know you’re seeing this.

I stared at the screen for a moment before my thumb hovered over his contact. Without hesitation, I blocked him.