Fake Mom, Real Obsession

I balanced the fussing toddler on one hip and shoved open the heavy doors to the opulent private dining room.

Every movement in the room flatlined.

Eyes snapped to me. They took in my bare face and the cheap clothes that probably cost less than fifty bucks combined.

Across the massive circular table sat my ex-boyfriendthe broke kid I ruthlessly dumped ten years ago.

Now, he wore a tailored haute couture suit, radiating the untouchable aura of a billionaire CEO. His predatory gaze slowly dragged over the baby-formula stains on my cheap T-shirt, finally locking onto the child in my arms with a dark, unfathomable intensity.

Chapter 1

Serena ditched her three-year-old daughter to go on a vacation. My mom, catching wind of the disaster early, bolted faster than anyone. By the time my brain caught up, the toddler was already dumped at my apartment.

I peeled my eyes open and stared at her. Their excuse? I worked from home, so watching a kid wouldn't be a big deal.

A three-year-old is a menace to society. My little niece had an angelic face but the soul of a pure demon. She kept me up every single night. Death by a thousand cuts would be faster.

She didn't need a knife to end me; she just consistently shrieked in my ear. At five-thirty in the morning, I dragged my half-asleep body out of bed to mix her formula and prep some baby oatmeal, then crashed back into the mattress and slept like the dead until six in the evening.

That damn high school reunion started exactly at six. It had been ten years since graduation. I barely remembered anyone's name.

Besides, reunions were just a breeding ground for flexing. You flash your designer bag, I rev my luxury car. Boring and utterly pointless.

A bunch of people showing off their jobs and comparing paychecks. If there was any real "classmate bonding," it was just women trying to network and score a promotion for their useless husbands.

I slumped in front of my vanity mirror for a second, then gave up. I grabbed a plain white cotton T-shirt the little demon had already ruined and a pair of gray yoga pants. I didn't even bother swiping on a layer of concealer. Rocking massive dark circles under my eyes, I walked out the door.

Oh, and I brought the three-year-old along. Paying for one and eating for two. A total win.

Stepping into the private room, my eyes immediately caught the designer bags casually tossed on the table with the logos facing outward, and guys constantly adjusting their shirt cuffs to flash their Rolexes. The second I walked in, everyone at the table paused their eating and zeroed in on me, searching my face to find a trace of the girl I used to be.

"Maeve, you finally made it! Sit over here!" A pretty girl shattered the silence, eagerly pulling out a chair for me.

I ignored the stares and walked over effortlessly, the toddler clinging to my torso like velcro. The moment I sat down, whispers erupted from the next table.

"Is that your daughter? She's adorable. She has your exact eyes."

The little monster was only tough at home, terrorizing every breathing creature in my apartment. Out here, faced with a room full of strangers, she totally muted herself and shrunk against my chest.

"Yeah."

Her smile widened at my confirmation. "You got married so early! Is your husband not home? Why isn't he helping with the kid?"

I picked up my chopsticks, snagged a piece of lobster meat, and chewed it without missing a beat. "Divorced. He started screwing around when she was barely a month old. The lawsuit dragged out for a year."

The moment those words dropped, I could practically feel the people next to me inching their chairs away. They turned their heads, suddenly deeply invested in stock market trends and banking rates. Nobody touched their food.

I spun the lazy Susan, loading my plate with whatever I wanted. A server brought out a signature black truffle Wagyu beef roll. It had always been my favorite. But just as my fingertips brushed the glass turntable, the girl in the black dress next to me shoved the glass hard, spinning the Wagyu roll straight to the opposite side of the table.

"Roman, I remember back when you were working minimum wage, you couldn't even get past the front door of a high-end place like this. Now you can eat here whenever you want. Give it a try."

That name hit my eardrums like a physical blow.

It was so familiar that all the ambient noise in the room instantly cut out. My brain latched onto nothing but that single name. I stabbed a prawn in my bowl, slowly tilting my head up, and locked eyes with the ex-boyfriend I ruthlessly dumped back in high school.

Chapter 2

He looked nothing like the green kid in a crisp white shirt from my memories. Roman wore a sharp black suit, looking so impeccably tailored you'd think he just stepped out of a high-stakes corporate board meeting. Over the last few years, I'd vaguely heard my dad mention some rising tech empire and the name 'Roman,' but I never gave it much thought. I never actually expected the broke kid to climb his way up to this kind of absolute power.

"No need." Roman's long, elegant fingers rested against the glass edge of the lazy Susan.

The casual movement was absurdly captivating. I didn't tear my eyes away from his prominent knuckles until that plate of black truffle Wagyu beef rollswithout a single garnish out of placewas forcefully spun back and stopped dead right in front of me.

The girl in the black dress clearly didn't expect him to pull a stunt like that. Frankly, neither did I. But I had thick skin, so I just picked up my chopsticks, grabbed a piece, and started eating.

"Oh, right, Maeveyou guys used to be a little item back then. Turns out you both love the black truffle Wagyu rolls!"

I stabbed a piece of the Wagyu roll, popped it into my mouth, and ignored the girl in the black dress. Roman had never actually liked the black truffle Wagyu rolls; it was always me. Back in the day, he only ordered them to give to me. The restaurant we went to always had a strict limit per customer, and since I could easily polish off several portions, I always made my boyfriend order one just for me.

Whatever Roman said in response flew over my head because the tiny dictator in my arms started acting up. I scrambled to pull a baby bottle out of my bag and flagged down a waiter to show me where I could get some warm water.

When I got back, the little demon was predictably not waiting patiently in my seat.

"She's right here, Maeve!"

"Your daughter is seriously so cute."

Clutching the bottle, I circled halfway around the massive table until I finally spotted my niece. She was death-gripping someone's leg, her chubby little face squished directly against a tailored knee.

The breathing in the entire room seemed to flatline. Everyone stared in horror at the imposing man, terrified that the notoriously ruthless billionaire was about to snap.

I plastered on an awkward smile, lifted my head, and locked eyes with the man whose leg my little monster was currently holding hostage. My ex-boyfriend. She really knew how to make my life difficult.

I never thought we were the star-crossed lovers out of some Nicholas Sparks novel, and Roman was definitely no tragic romantic hero. Back when we broke up, everyone assumed I was the one who dumped him. But Roman was the one who said the words.

To save face, I was too embarrassed to admit I got dumped, so I just let the rumors roll. Thinking back on it now, it's hilarious. Why did I even care about my pride?

So, shoving my pride aside, I reached down and peeled my niece off Roman's leg. "Say 'hi' to the nice man," I cooed, scooping the toddler into my arms and flashing Roman a blindingly bright smile.

I don't know how everyone else stomached that suffocatingly tense dinner, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I even fed the little demon in my lap a few pieces of perfectly seared French cod.

By the time we walked out of the restaurant, the theatrical flexing started back up. Someone "accidentally" dropped their Porsche keys, while someone else bragged about their husband pulling up in a luxury sedan.

I just held the toddler's hand and let out a long yawn.

"Do you have a ride, Maeve? You can take my car." It was the girl in the black dress again. My memory finally clickedshe used to be the class rep for AP English.

"I'm good."

She blinked, clearly not expecting me to actually have a ride. "Oh, that's great. I was just thinking I could drop you off if you were stranded. Are you still living downtown?"

Ten years ago, downtown was the ultimate status symbol. But now, all the real money was clustered in the high-security affluent suburbs, and naturally, that's exactly where I moved.

I shook my head and politely declined her offer.

Chapter 3

As the former classmates peeled out of the parking lot one by one, eventually only the little monster and I were left standing by the entrance. Mitchell, the family's private chauffeur, was out driving the Rolls-Royce to pick up my father, the billionaire chairman, while the Uber I ordered on my phone got stuck in gridlock traffic. I slowly crouched down, resting my chin in the palm of my hand to wait.

A heavy, tailored suit jacketcarrying the sharp scent of cedarwood cologne and the intense heat of his bodydraped over my shoulders with an undeniable dominance, wrapping me up. I whipped my head around and found Roman.

"I'll take you home."

"No need. My ride is literally on the way." I wasn't about to get into Roman's car. I shoved my phone screen in his face to show him the Uber map.

"Cancel it."

I ended up buckling the little monster into the back of Roman's car anyway. My Uber driver had canceled the ride himself after being stuck for too long, leaving me no choice but to hitch a ride.

Ten years later, Roman was still the same, except somehow significantly more ridiculously attractive. Sharp jawline, piercing eyesjust glancing at him still made my pulse hitch.

The drive was completely silent. Eventually, his sleek car pulled up in front of my high-rise luxury apartment building. "You live here?"

"My scumbag ex-husband got skinned alive by my lawyers in the divorce settlement, and I kept the luxury condo." The lie rolled off my tongue effortlessly, but instant regret hit the second the words were out. I darted a glance at the rearview mirror to catch his reaction.

Suddenly, Roman leaned in close. His aggressively suffocating presence instantly enveloped me. A low, raspy chuckle vibrated in his chest. "Maeve, do you have any idea how transparent your eyes get when you lie?"

How the hell was I supposed to know my own nervous tics? But the fact that Roman called me out made my cheeks burn hot. Wait, did that mean he knew I was totally full of shit from the very first sentence I dropped at the dinner table?

"Mommy." The toddler in my lap suddenly spoke up, tugging wildly at my collar, her little limbs thrashing around.

I finally pinned her arms down, and a spark of genius hit me. "She's only three. A toddler doesn't lie, right?" I looked down at her.

"What did you just call me, baby? Say it again?" I ruffled the little monster's hair and smugly soaked in it when she yelled, "Mommy!" again.

Sorry, Serena! I'm borrowing your kid for a minute. When I tilted my head back up, Roman's expression had frozen over. His jaw locked tight.

I stood there holding my niece, watching in silence as Roman's taillights disappeared down the street. The little gremlin was still squirming against my chest, and right then, I spotted my actual sister Serena's SUV parked just a few yards away. She had only started yelling 'Mommy' because she recognized her actual mother's car.

The second I set her on the pavement, she broke into a run, sprinting straight toward Serena. What an ungrateful little brat. I had been taking care of her all day and didn't get a single affectionate word, but she was enthusiastically screaming for the mother who literally abandoned her for a vacation.

"So, you saw him?" Serena asked, still wearing her designer sunglasses as she scooped up her daughter and walked toward me.

I stared at her blankly, totally lost. "What are you even talking about?"

"Roman. You got a sneak peek. What did you think of him?"

"Wait, what?"

"A while back, Dad's company signed a massive joint venture with Roman's tech empire. Dad's been scheming to set you two up. But the rumor is that he's been obsessively hung up on some unattainable girl he dated back in high school?"

"He hasn't been linked to anyone since. You're not getting any younger. Why not give it a shot?"

I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. Give it a shot? I'd literally die.

So my whole 'divorced single mom' persona had been busted by Roman from the very beginning? Because my loudmouth billionaire dad had probably already handed over my entire unredacted biography to him.

"Wait, the high school reunion? You guys went to the same high school. Do you know who that unattainable girl is?"

I forced my facial muscles into a trembling, stiff smile and slowly raised a single finger, pointing it directly at my own chest.

"You?" Serena frowned, her eyes raking up and down my incredibly tragic outfit. "Well, his taste is certainly unique."

Chapter 4

Seriously? Is that how you talk to your own sister? Resistance was futile. Three days after the ten-year high school reunion wrapped up, I was forcibly delivered straight to Roman.

Before leaving, Serena nagged me endlessly. She pinned me down in front of the vanity and did a full overhaul, applying a highly attractive, bone-structure-enhancing "no-makeup" baddie look, then shoved me into the passenger seat of her sports car to personally drop me off.

She gripped the steering wheel and glared at me. "This is Dad's billionaire business partner. And from what I saw, you're pretty into him too. So for the love of God, just behave yourself this time!"

The destination was an upscale coffee shop on the north side of the city. The second I stepped onto the curb, Serena slammed the car door and peeled out, terrified I might make a run for it.

I stood there choking on a lungful of her exhaust. My eyes went wide as I turned aroundand locked gazes dead-on with Roman, who was watching me through the floor-to-ceiling glass window.

Roman was never a man of many words back then, and clearly, that hadn't changed. I used to treat him as my personal emotional dumping ground, pouring out all my drama. But now? Where the hell would I find the nerve to treat a ruthless CEO like a therapist?

After years of working from home as a freelance illustrator, my social skills had atrophied. I didn't dare pull the same thick-skinned, unhinged stunt I did at the reunion.

"Are you really that opposed to seeing me?" A low, rough sigh escaped his lips.

"No, no, no," I waved my hands frantically, my palms practically sweating. "It's just it's been a decade. I don't exactly know what to say."

"How about we discuss that terrible ex-husband of yours?" My head snapped up. I caught the tail-end of a dark, amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You know. The one who screwed around and got completely skinned alive by your lawyers in the divorce."

"Th-there's nothing to talk about," I stammered, my fingers trembling slightly as I grabbed my glass and aggressively chugged the ice water. The freezing shock jolted my brain into clarity.

Roman's brow instantly furrowed. He reached over and snatched the glass of ice water straight out of my hands, waving for a waiter to replace it with a warm cup of caffeine-free herbal tea.

Back in high school, my stomach was incredibly fragile. Eating even slightly too much made me nauseous, to the point where I popped antacids like candy. But I was stubbornly obsessed with spicy junk food and ice-cold drinks.

Roman naturally became the one who policed my diet. He sat with me for three meals a day, going out of his way to find food that was both delicious and actually healthy for me. Looking back, Roman treated me insanely well back then.

Even though we were just dumb teenagers, our dynamic just worked. To this day, I still couldn't wrap my head around why he dumped me.

While my mind was spiraling out of orbit, the waiter brought over coffee and a tier of pastries. No coffee for me. Instead, the entire spread of high-end desserts was pushed deliberately to my side of the table.

I picked up a baby-blue macaron and took a bite. A wave of shock hit meit tasted identical to the ones I ate years ago. The original bakery that made these perfectly had shut down and relocated before we even graduated high school.

Tasting that exact, unmistakable flavor now, my eyes widened, snapping to Roman's face. "It's the original pastry chef."

Roman held my gaze with a suffocating, heavy intensity. His dark eyes locked onto mine like I was the only breathing thing in the room. "It took me a long time to track him down, but I found him."

He always stated these massive, obsessive gestures so casually. I had ordered delivery from practically every bakery in the city and never found this exact macaron flavor. Roman must have spent years hunting down the chef hiding in this little coffee shop.

"Maeve. It's been ten years," his voice was low, scraping over my nerves. "Your obsession with these hasn't changed."

"And my obsession with you hasn't changed either. Will you be with me again?"

I sat frozen, a pale yellow macaron suspended between my teeth, staring blindly at him.

Staring into the deep abyss of Roman's eyes, the image of the billionaire dissolved, and for a second, I saw that boy in the cheap white shirtthe one who had burned his way straight into my chest.

My throat went dry. "Then why did you dump me?"

Chapter 5

I first heard the name Roman from my best friend back in the day. He was the academic god whose AP Calculus scores were astronomically high. Ever since I scraped my way into that elite high school, I basically coasted, floating aimlessly right in the middle of the class rankings.

The very first time I actually spoke to Roman was because I wanted to cheat off his math homework. He didn't reject me. He just slid his notebook over.

But later, after I officially became his girlfriend, his entire attitude shifted. He stopped letting me copy and started forcing me to actually learn the material, breaking down every single problem for me.

I stumbled my way into a top-tier state university, and honestly, Roman deserves all the credit for that.

I was pretty self-aware. I wasn't some drop-dead gorgeous supermodel, but if I put in a little effort, I cleaned up well enough.

Roman's homework was usually reserved by the AP kids days in advance. That day, I only managed to snatch his notebook right before the class rep started collecting them. I was frantically copying down the answers, racing against the clock. Flipping through his impossibly neat, precise handwriting, a sigh slipped out of me without thinking.

"Roman, if only you were my boyfriend"

"Done."

The second half of my sentencethen I could always be the first one to copy your homeworkgot shoved violently back down my throat.

From that day on, in what felt like an absolute fever dream, Roman became my boyfriend. In my memories, he was always so incredibly patient. Standing in line for me at the cafeteria, explaining a math equation to me over and over again without a shred of annoyance.

That was why, when he stood in the hallway that day, his face shadowed with his back to the blinding sunlight, and told me we were done, I froze. The small, carefully wrapped gift I was supposed to give him dug painfully into my palm.

Now, running into him again ten years later, that unanswered question clawed its way back to the surface.

Why? Why did he do it