Page 76 of In Love With Mr. Wrong

“Us,” I say. “Me and Margot.”

***

I find her in her office, feet up on the velvet ottoman, laptop balanced on her knees, a mocktail sweating beside a half-eaten slice of cake. Her hair’s still damp from the shower. She looks calm. But her eyes are tracking that PulseMatch video like it still might attack her.

“I’ve seen it,” she says as I step inside.

“I know.”

“They’re using what we gave them. Our language. Our tone. They’ve studied us.”

I kneel beside her, pressing one hand to her knee, the other to the edge of her desk.

“Then we remind the world that we’re not acting. We’re the real thing.”

She looks at me. Really looks. Her shoulders ease half an inch. “I hate how much this hurts.”

“They’re faking gravity,” I murmur. “We are the gravity.”

Her breath catches, just a little, and I know I’ve said the right thing. The thing that anchors her back into herself.

“We’re doing a series,” I tell her. “Client stories. Us, too.”

Her eyes flicker with something cautious. “You think people want to see our mess?”

I lean in. “I think they want to see what love looks like when it’s earned.”

***

That night, I stay late in the office. There’s no fanfare. No script. Just me, sitting in a sleek chair in front of a simple black backdrop, facing a single camera. I take a long breath. And I start.

“My name is Grayson King. I’m the co-CEO ofPerfectly Matched. And I married my rival in Vegas after months of public competition, private insults, and one very expensive bottle of scotch. I did it because I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

I pause.

“She drives me insane. She challenges me. She terrifies me in all the right ways. And when I look at her, I know I want to build every version of the future around her.”

I shift forward.

“You’ve probably seen the video by now, the other company’s campaign. It’s polished. Romantic. Familiar. But here’s what you don’t know: that couple didn’t just walk away from our process. They ran from accountability. They turned heartbreak into a story they could sell.”

Another pause.

“We don’t guarantee perfection. We guarantee honesty. We don’t sell fantasy. We build connection. And we do it with science, and heart, and the belief that the right match can change your life.”

I glance to the side, where Margot’s sitting just out of frame. She gives me a tiny nod. I look back at the camera.

“We didn’t buildPerfectly Matchedto go viral. We built it to last.”

***

Fade to black. I sit still for a moment after the camera cuts. The room goes quiet again, just the whir of the equipment powering down and the low hum of the city beneath us. Across the room, Margot rises slowly from her seat. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks over, her hand brushing the top of my shoulder, grounding me in silence.

“You meant every word,” she says softly.

I nod. “Every one.”

She exhales. “So did I, when I chose you. Not just for the company. For everything.”

---