Page 36 of The Bad Boy's Fake Wife

IneverrealizedhowmuchI’d miss Emma until now. The silence stretches endlessly, each day without her feeling heavier than the last. I’m haunted by the crippling knowledge that I messed up, and I have to explain it to her so she’ll understand, but I don’t have the chance.

Emma has locked herself up in her room at Reed’s for nearly two weeks. And Reed refuses to even let me into his house, adamant that he’ll do what his sister wants.

“What if you just give her a message from me?” I asked him the day after she left, but that didn’t faze him.

“I have no business with what happened between you and my sister, and I’m on her side until the two of you resolve the matter,” Reed said stubbornly. In a way, I admire how much he’s standing up for his sister, and I feel glad knowing she has someone like him to watch over her. On the other side, not seeing her is killing me.

I send her flowers every day, and now the florist knows my name. I buy everything from lilies to roses to blooms I don’t recognize, hoping that one of them will finally make her open the door and hear me out. Reed says the house reeks of a dying garden—proof of my relentless efforts turning into a mess of wilted petals and stale perfume, ignored like the messages I keep sending her.

Now, I stare at my email. Not once has Emma written back to me or even pretended to acknowledge all my apologies and the urgent fact that I want to speak to her. But today, I return from work to find a single rose on my porch with a note attached by a string.

The note reads:It’s not real. You don’t have to apologize in a fake marriage.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

Those three words dance in my head, aggravating me. Why does she have to remind me that all of this is fake, that the one thing I want is out of reach? My heart starts to fall apart, but I remind myself that she’s right and it’s not real, so I shouldn’t be chasing after her like a lovesick puppy when I’m not even in love.

It’s not real.

Except the heartache is real. The fact that I yearn to hear from her and see her laugh is real. I’m aware that I’m falling for her, and it’s pointless because it’s not real and she doesn’t want it. She wants nothing to do with me.

I crumple the note in my hand and stare straight ahead, wondering how a few words can hurt so much. Why does Emma mean so much to me, and why did I let my heart fall for her this deeply?

“Need a drink, bud?” I hear Reed’s voice behind me. I hadn’t even noticed him creeping up on me.

I shrug. “If you don’t mind.”

Reed nods. I exhale slowly, feeling a mix of relief and resignation as we step inside my house.

I serve us whiskey. It’s already late in the evening, and I need something strong. Reed lounges in my living room, stretching out comfortably while I sit rigid, the emptiness of the house pressing down on me.

“Do you reckon your cousin is going to be a problem again?” Reed asks, his tone sharp with suspicion. “You think he’s still got his hands in something shady?”

I let out a dry chuckle and shake my head. “Not this time. But it wouldn’t be the first.”

Reed leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “We covered the basics, sure. But what exactly did he do while you were gone?”

I exhale, rubbing my temples as the memories resurface. “It started during my honeymoon—just when I thought I could finally take a break. First, our biggest deal collapsed out of nowhere, and then, almost immediately, complaints started rolling in.”

“Complaints?” Reed echoes. “About what?”

“Faulty products—items supposedly from our brand, but none of them were ever authorized. It was like someone wanted the company’s reputation to tank overnight.”

Reed lets out a low whistle. “And let me guess—Zain was behind it?”

I nod. “Didn’t take long to trace it back to him. He was forging contracts, messing with supply chains, trying to make it look like I was running the company into the ground.”

“That’s low, even for him,” Reed mutters.

“I should’ve caught it sooner,” I admit, my jaw tightening. “But the numbers weren’t adding up. Shipments disappeared, contracts surfaced with fake signatures—it was all too precise, too well-timed. I had no choice but to cut the honeymoon short and deal with the mess before it got worse.”

Reed shakes his head, leaning back. “Well, at least now he’s out of the picture. But are you sure he’s really done? Guys like Zain don’t just disappear.”

“Zain is always working some kind of scheme, but this time, I hope he finally realizes that messing with my company is a lost cause.”

“Your grandfather wouldn’t want the company to go to him anyway.” Reed says, shaking his head as he takes a slow sip of his whiskey. “I’m glad that’s over.”

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