I Asked a Stranger to Pretend He Loved Me in Front of My Ex—Then My Ex’s Mother Recognized the Billionaire Holding My Hand

Wyatt didn’t follow me inside.

He stood on the sidewalk while I unlocked the door, turned on the lights, and placed the notice beside the register.

Then he said, “I need to explain.”

“Did you know my shop was on the block?”

“No.”

“Did Grant know you were evaluating it?”

“Yes.”

I laughed once, without humor.

“That explains the message.”

I showed him my phone.

Whatever you think you’re doing, stop.

Wyatt’s jaw tightened.

“Our investment committee hasn’t approved anything,” he said. “Mercer provided a preliminary proposal. I’ve seen financial projections, not individual tenant files.”

“But you could approve it.”

“I could recommend it.”

I looked around the shop.

The counter had a dent from the Christmas my father dropped a brass cash drawer. His handwriting still labeled the shelf where we kept wedding ribbon.

“I need you to leave.”

Wyatt nodded.

At the door, he paused.

“I won’t ask you to trust something I haven’t earned.”

After he left, I sat on the floor behind the counter until Ruby arrived with the breakfast muffins she had promised to bring before remembering it was evening.

She took one look at me and locked the door.

“What happened?”

I handed her the notice.

She read it.

Then she sat beside me.

For once, she had no joke.

The next morning, I called the other tenants.

Mrs. Alvarez, who owned the bakery, had received the same letter. So had Ben at the repair shop and the sisters who ran the bookstore.

By noon, we had agreed to meet.

By one, my mother arrived.

Diane Bennett wore the careful expression she used when she wanted something unpleasant to sound practical.

“Grant says you’re upset.”

“Grant has remarkable customer service for a man destroying my business.”

“He isn’t destroying it. They’ll offer relocation money.”

“Did you know?”

She adjusted the strap of her purse.

“Laurel, that building is old.”

“Did you know?”

“Yes.”

The word landed harder than I expected.

“For how long?”

“A few months.”

I stared at her.

She looked toward the window.

“Vivian thought it would be better if you heard when plans were definite.”

“You talked about my livelihood over lunch?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“From information?”

My mother’s mouth tightened.

“You don’t understand what things cost.”

“I pay payroll every other Friday. I understand exactly what things cost.”

She moved closer.

“Then understand this. Important people don’t enjoy being embarrassed. Whatever this is with Wyatt Calloway, don’t use it to punish Grant.”

There it was.

Not whether I was happy.

Not whether I was safe.

Whether I had made the right people uncomfortable.

“Did you ever like me with him?” I asked.

She frowned.

“Of course.”

“Or did you like being included?”

Her face changed.

For a moment, I thought she might answer honestly.

Instead, she left.

That afternoon, Wyatt called.

I nearly ignored it.

“I’ve told the investment committee about our personal connection,” he said. “I’m stepping away from the recommendation.”

“Does that stop the project?”

“No.”

The answer hurt, but I appreciated it.

“I also asked our counsel to verify the tenant information independently. I can’t discuss confidential material, but you should have someone review your lease.”

“Someone I pay.”

“Yes.”

“No secret lawyer appearing with a bill you already covered.”

“No.”

I closed my eyes.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“I’m learning.”

After we hung up, I took my lease to a local attorney named Denise Park, whom the bookstore sisters recommended.

She read it while I sat across from her desk worrying about the consultation fee.

Then she turned back to the first page.

“You have a renewal option.”

“Five years. My father insisted on it.”