Page 57 of Faking with Three

“Ms. Chase, it’s me,” my lawyer says, his tone clipped. “I’ve just been served an injunction by a judge, ordering the immediate takedown of all Love Lab episodes. The petition was filed by Charlie Green’s legal team, citing reputational damage and personal harassment.”

I blink, my grip tightening on the phone. “What? She filed for what?”

“It’s bad,” he says bluntly. “If we don’t comply, we risk a contempt of court charge, not to mention possible damages.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my racing thoughts to slow down. “We already pulled the restaurant episode, didn’t we?”

“We did,” he confirms, “but her argument hinges on a claim that even the other episodes have caused harm due to the association. She’s coming after the entire series.”

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, pacing a small circle in the grass. “Can you quash it?”

“I can try,” he says, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “But it’ll be costly, and there’s no guarantee the judge will reverse the order quickly.”

“Do what it takes,” I say firmly. “I’m not backing down. Not now.”

He sighs. “Understood. I’ll start filing immediately, but Olivia, you need to prepare for this to get uglier before it gets better.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I deadpan before hanging up. Stuffing the phone back into my pocket, I glance over my shoulder at Ethan and Jax, who are still watching me, their earlier animosity momentarily replaced with curiosity.

“What is it?” Ethan asks.

“We’ve been served,” I say. “Charlie Green wants Love Lab gone from the internet.”

CHAPTER 17

MARCUS

The smellof coffee and freshly baked pastries hits me as I step into the cafe. It’s my usual spot, a small joint tucked into the corner of the block, where the line is long but the caffeine is worth it. I’m running late today, something Jill reminded me of before I dropped her off.Don’t forget to eat, Dad,she’d said, rolling her eyes like I’m some sort of lost cause.

The line shuffles forward, and I glance around, half-distracted, when I see her—Olivia. I blink a couple of times to make sure I’m not imagining her. She’s standing by the sugar station, fiddling with one of those tiny cream packets, her lips pursed in concentration. My stomach tightens involuntarily.Of course, she’s here.

I contemplate slipping out unnoticed, but she looks up, and it’s too late. Her eyes widen slightly before recognition softens her expression.

“Marcus,” she says, tilting her head. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I reply, forcing casualness into my tone as I approach. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

We haven’t really spoken since we had one of the most amazing nights of my life, and she slipped out later.

“This place is kind of my go-to for survival fuel,” Olivia says sheepishly.

I glance at her cup, already topped with a mountain of whipped cream. “And here I thought you were just naturally high-energy.”

She laughs lightly, and the sound curls through my chest. “You’ve clearly never seen me without my morning coffee.”

The line moves again, and I step out, gesturing toward an empty table near the window. “Want to sit?”

“Sure.” She shrugs, picking up her drink and following me.

There’s a beat of silence after we sit, the kind of pause that’s less about discomfort and more about unspoken things hovering between us. Things like the night at the bar, the way her lips felt undermine, and the fact that I haven’t stopped thinking about her since.

“So,” Olivia says, breaking the silence, “I assume you’re not here for the whipped cream monstrosity I call coffee?”

“Not really my style,” I admit, smirking. “Black, no sugar.”

She grimaces playfully. “Figures.”

Another silence stretches, and Olivia fiddles with her cup. “For what it’s worth,” she begins, “I’m glad you’re not acting crazy like Ethan and Jax.”

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