Fake Couple, True Love

I framed the shot perfectly—a rugged Brooklyn hipster with just the right amount of five o'clock shadow leaning against a graffitied wall. The golden hour light cast him in amber tones that would make my Instagram followers swoon. Just as I pressed the shutter button, my phone vibrated against my thigh with such persistence that I nearly dropped my camera.

"Damn it," I muttered, fumbling to keep my equipment from crashing onto the concrete while fishing out my phone. My mother's face flashed on the screen—her annual Christmas card photo where she looked more like a senator's wife than my actual mom.

"Stephanie Elizabeth Cole, where are you?" Her voice trembled with a panic I hadn't heard since I'd dyed my hair blue for prom.

"In Williamsburg, working. Why?"

"You need to come home right now." The command was sharp, lacking her usual passive-aggressive sugar coating. "The family is... we're in trouble. Big trouble."

I rolled my eyes, already anticipating another Cole family drama about someone wearing white after Labor Day. "What kind of trouble?"

"We're bankrupt, Stephanie." My father's voice suddenly boomed through the speaker—he must have grabbed the phone from Mom. "Everything's gone. The company, our investments, your trust fund."

The world tilted sideways. "What? That's impossible."

"It's happening to the Whitmans too," my mother chimed in, apparently having reclaimed the phone. "Both our families are going under unless we can secure an emergency loan from First Manhattan."

I leaned against the nearest brick wall, my camera hanging forgotten around my neck. "The Whitmans? As in Jason Whitman's family?" The mere mention of his name sent a familiar surge of irritation through me.

"Yes, and there's only one solution." Mom's voice dropped to a whisper. "The bank will only approve the loan if our families merge assets completely."

A cold dread pooled in my stomach. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means," my father shouted from somewhere in the background, "you need to marry Jason Whitman. Tomorrow."

The phone nearly slipped from my suddenly numb fingers. "Have you both lost your minds? I'd rather live in a cardboard box!"

"Stephanie," my mother's voice hardened, "this isn't just about you. It's about our entire family legacy, our employees, everything we've built. Please, just come home now so we can explain everything."

Two hours later, I stood frozen in our Manhattan penthouse living room, staring at the assembly of people who had apparently gathered to orchestrate my personal nightmare. My parents, Jason's parents, a judge, and a notary all looked at me with expressions ranging from desperation to cool calculation.

And then there was Jason himself—six feet of tailored suit and perpetual smirk—leaning against my father's prized mahogany bookcase like he owned it. The same Jason who'd ruined my white dress with green dye in third grade. The same insufferable Jason who'd competed with me for everything from school awards to parking spaces since we were children.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Cole," he drawled, his steel-gray eyes meeting mine with the familiar challenge that always made my blood boil.

"This is insane," I hissed, turning to my parents. "You can't seriously expect me to marry him."

My father thrust a stack of financial reports into my hands. "Look at these numbers, Stephanie. We're talking complete ruin—not just for us, but for hundreds of employees."

As I flipped through pages of catastrophic red figures, Jason's father cleared his throat. "The bank has agreed to extend emergency financing, but only with the guarantee of a complete merger between our families. The marriage is non-negotiable."

"We've already arranged everything," my mother added, gesturing to the judge who stood awkwardly clutching a leather portfolio. "All you need to do is sign."

I looked from my parents' pleading faces to Jason's impassive one. His jaw was clenched tight, the only indication that he might be as thrilled about this arrangement as I was.

"So this is it?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "I sacrifice my life to save the family business?"

"It's just a marriage, darling," my mother said with a dismissive wave. "People have made far greater sacrifices for less."

Jason pushed himself off the bookcase and stepped toward me, close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne. "Looks like you're stuck with me, Cole," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "Try not to enjoy it too much."

I should have slapped him. Instead, I found myself walking toward the judge in a daze, wondering how my life had imploded so spectacularly in the span of a single afternoon.