Read Chapter 3: Signing the Lie

Simon Hale’s office did not look like a place where lies were manufactured. It was all pale oak and soft grey, the kind of minimalist calm that cost a fortune and pretended otherwise. Elise sat in a chair that was too low to the ground, which she suspected was deliberate. A power dynamic executed in millimetres.

Theo Ashford was already there when she arrived. He stood by the window, one hand in his pocket, looking out at the London skyline as if he were being photographed for a magazine spread. Maybe he always looked like that. Elise couldn't decide if it was exhausting or impressive.

“Ms. Moreau,” Simon said, rising from behind his desk. He was a compact man in his fifties with the unreadable face of a career diplomat. “Thank you for coming.”

“I didn’t have much choice.”

Simon’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We all have choices. Some are just less pleasant than others.”

Theo turned from the window. He was taller than she remembered, or maybe the room was just smaller. His smile was easy, almost apologetic, as if he knew this whole arrangement was absurd and was inviting her to share the joke. Elise did not share the joke.

“Elise,” he said, her name sounding strange in his English accent. “Good to see you again.”

“Is it?”

“I’m told we’re about to become very close.” He said it with a hint of self-deprecation that almost made her smile. Almost.

Simon gestured to the low chairs arranged around a glass coffee table. On it lay a document, thick enough to be a small novel, bound in dark blue. The contract.

“Shall we?” Simon sat first, crossing one leg over the other. Theo took the chair beside him, leaving Elise the seat directly opposite. Three points of a triangle, with her at the awkward end.

Elise sat down slowly, refusing to be rushed. She picked up the contract, not to read it—she’d already read the draft Vivienne had sent over at two in the morning—but to weight it in her hands. It was heavier than she expected. Heavier than her career, certainly.

“I have notes,” she said.

Simon’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “We incorporated your line items already. Creative control over your professional engagements. Approval of any endorsement deals. The right to veto scripted material that feels off-brand.”

“I read the draft. My notes are new.”

The silence that followed was the kind that cost money. Simon’s face remained pleasant, but his jaw tightened. Theo, meanwhile, watched her with renewed interest, like she was a script he hadn’t decided to read.

“Go on,” Simon said.

Elise opened the contract to the page she’d marked with a folded corner. She’d spent hours last night with a highlighter, working in the dim light of her hotel room, feeling like a law student who’d accidentally enrolled in the wrong degree.

“Clause seven,” she said. “Public appearances. It says here that Mr. Ashford’s team will coordinate all joint public engagements and that I will make myself reasonably available.”

“That’s standard,” Theo said.

“I’m sure it is. But I want it changed.” She looked up at him, holding his gaze. “I’m not a prop in your redemption tour. We’re equals in this, or we’re nothing.”

Theo’s mouth curved into a slow smile, but it wasn’t the easy one from before. This one had edges. “I didn’t realize I had a redemption tour.”

“You have a career that’s underperforming commercially,” Elise said flatly. “That’s why you’re here. The articles about you are boring, and boring doesn’t sell tickets. I’m the scandal that makes you interesting. But I’m not going to be the one who follows your schedule while you decide what version of me is palatable.”

Simon cleared his throat. “Ms. Moreau, the arrangement is mutually beneficial, but the optics require coordination. You can’t have two people pulling in different directions.”

“I agree,” Elise said. “So we coordinate. Together. Not one team directing the other. I want a joint approval clause. Any public appearance, any photo opportunity, any quote attributed to our relationship—it goes through both teams, and both parties have veto power. Not just his.”

She slid the contract back across the glass table. Theo picked it up, not bothering to hide the fact that he wasn’t reading it. He was watching her.

“You know,” he said slowly, “when they told me about this arrangement, I expected you to be easier to manage.”

“I’m not managed.”

“No,” he said, something flickering in his eyes. “You’re not.”

The silence stretched. Simon looked between them, clearly calculating whether to intervene. In the end, it was Theo who broke first. He set the contract down and nodded.

“Fine. Joint approval. But I have a condition of my own.”

Elise crossed her arms. She’d known this was coming. “Name it.”

“The first month follows my script. Completely. You trust my team to build the foundation of the story, and you don’t fight every beat. After that, we recalibrate, and you get more input.”

“That’s not what I proposed.”

“I know. But you asked for compromise without giving one. I’m giving you fifty percent of the control you want, and I’m asking for fifty percent of your trust. If it goes wrong, you can walk away and blame me. If it goes right, I’ll look like the good guy who gave his partner room to grow. Either way, you get what you need.”

Elise wanted to argue. She could feel the words rising in her throat, sharp and fast. But something in his reasoning made sense, and she hated that it did. She hated that he’d laid it out so plainly that she could see the logic behind it.

“One month,” she said slowly. “And I get a list of the dates before they’re public. I need to prepare.”

“Naturally.” Theo’s smile widened, and for a moment he looked almost genuine. “I wouldn’t want you wearing the wrong earrings.”

Elise blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” He waved a hand. “Just a joke.”

Simon, sensing the deal was done, retrieved the contract from Theo’s hands. “I’ll have counsel redraft with the new terms. We’ll need a clean version signed within forty-eight hours. The producers of your film are meeting with your replacement tomorrow, so we’re on a clock.”

Elise felt the floor shift under her. She’d known about the meeting. Vivienne had called that morning, her voice tight with controlled panic. But hearing it spoken aloud, in this quiet office where her future was being negotiated like a cable package, made it real in a way she hadn’t been ready for.

“They won’t wait,” she said, more to herself than to them.

“No,” Simon agreed. “They won’t. Which is why our timeline is aggressive. The first public date is scheduled for Friday.”

“Friday?” Elise’s voice rose despite herself. “That’s three days from now.”

“The media cycle is short,” Simon said, as if explaining something to a child. “The scandal is old news by Friday. We need fresh headlines. We need the two of you to be seen looking happy, together, and in love. It’s a lot to ask, but I believe you’re both professional enough to deliver.”

Elise stood, the low chair making the motion awkward. She smoothed down her dress, buying herself a second to compose her face. When she looked up, she found Theo watching her with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll have my team send over the date itinerary tonight,” he said. “It’s dinner. Somewhere public, but not too public. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“You’ll send a car.”

“I’ll pick you up,” he repeated, the words carrying a different weight. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. People need to see me treat you like you matter.”

It was the closest thing to sincerity he’d offered all afternoon. Elise didn’t know what to do with it, so she did nothing.

“Fine,” she said. “Friday.”

Simon handed her a copy of the notes they’d agreed on. “I’ll send the final draft for your signature tomorrow morning. I suggest you use a lawyer this time.”

“I’ll consider it.”

She turned to leave, already reaching for her phone to text Vivienne, when she heard Theo’s voice behind her.

“Elise.”

She paused, hand on the door. She didn’t turn around.

“I’m not your enemy,” he said. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to save your career. But the fact that you’re still here, still fighting for every clause—that tells me you care more than you’re letting on. And that’s the version of you I want the public to see.”

Elise turned then, just enough to look at him over her shoulder. He was still seated, arms resting on his knees, looking up at her with something between appraisal and curiosity.

“Careful,” she said. “That almost sounded sincere.”

His smile returned, easier this time. “Practice. By Friday, I’ll have perfected it.”

She left without another word, stepping out into the corridor and letting the door click shut behind her. The air outside was cooler, cleaner. She stood there for a moment, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, and tried to remember when her life had become a performance she couldn’t walk offstage from.

When she finally walked to the elevator, she was already rehearsing her smile. The one she’d wear on Friday. The one that said she was happy, she was in love, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

It felt like wearing a mask made of glass. One wrong move, and it would shatter into pieces that would cut her deep.

The elevator doors opened. She stepped inside, and as she did, she felt something slip from her ear—a small, silver stud, the one she’d worn out of habit that morning. It clinked onto the carpeted floor of the lobby, too quiet for anyone to hear.

She didn’t notice.

The doors slid shut, and the elevator carried her down, away from the office, away from the contract, away from the man who would spend the next six months pretending to love her. She left the earring behind without ever knowing it was gone.

In the office above, Theo stood and walked to the window. He watched the street below, waiting until he saw her emerge onto the pavement, a small figure in a dark coat. She didn’t look up. She got into a taxi and was gone.

“She’s going to be trouble,” Simon said.

“I know,” Theo replied, and there was something in his voice that wasn’t quite dread. “But she’s going to be good.”