Old Wounds, New Games
1213 Words
Two Weeks Ago:
There were two things I hated most in this world: deadlines and the holiday season.
Deadlines are self-explanatory; they’re soul-sucking monstrosities that consume every ounce of your will to live. But the holiday season? That’s a whole different beast.
It’s not the decorations or the music—though I could live without hearing All I Want for Christmas on an endless loop. It’s the forced happiness. Everyone acting like their lives are picture-perfect when, in reality, it’s just a month of fake cheer and mass consumerism. I’m not a Grinch, but the pressure to be festive when you’re nursing a broken heart? It feels like a cruel joke.
While others bask in togetherness and love, I just want to lock myself in my room, inhale an obscene amount of sugar, and watch rom-coms until my tears mix with melted chocolate.
“Lila Stone, what did I tell you about wearing all black to a birthday party?”
“Mother,” I sighed, glancing at my reflection. “I look cute.”
“You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
“It’s his ninety-sixth birthday. I might as well be.”
The slap on my shoulder was swift and sharp. “Change. Now.”
When Mother Stone gave orders, you didn’t argue unless you wanted to hear her harp for hours. Begrudgingly, I swapped my black ensemble for the pink dress she had handpicked.
Today was Armand Delacroix’s ninety-sixth birthday. The same Armand that raised me as one of his own. Did I love the man? Absolutely. Did I wish he would stop trying to set me up with his grandsons? One hundred percent. And yes, grandsons, plural. He didn’t care which of his four grandsons I ended up with, as long as I was eventually in their family register.
“Sweetheart!” Armand’s booming voice greeted me the moment I stepped into his mansion. He pulled me into a bear hug, his warmth infectious.
“I missed you too, Gramps.”
“Still single?”
Of course, that was his first question.
Before I could answer, Leo, the youngest of the Delacroix clan, appeared with his trademark cheeky grin.
“I already told you, she’s dating me,” he announced with a wink. “I don’t know why you keep ignoring me.”
“You little bastard,” Armand smacked him lightly on the back of his head. “Finish school first, then I’ll consider you.”
“Gramps!” I groaned. “As if the other three aren’t enough, now you’re throwing the baby into the mix?”
“I’m not a baby!” Leo pouted.
“You’re literally fifteen, Leo.”
“Age is just a construct!” he shouted before he stomped off dramatically. He really wasn't disproving the baby allegations.
“Jail is just a room,” I called after him, smirking.
“Who’s going to jail?”
My gaze shifted as my first-ever childhood crush walked into the room, looking as stunning as ever with his sandy brown hair and glistening blue eyes. It was impossible not to swoon. But the real showstopper was the tiny, cooing bundle in his arms.
“Hey Arthur,” I greeted, before turning my attention to the baby boy in his arms. “Hey, cutie-pie.”
Before I could reach for the baby, a familiar pair of arms yanked me into a hug.
“Hi, angel,” Cyrus murmured into the nape of my shoulder.
The twins, Cyrus and Ember, were the same age as me. Since childhood, we did everything together, so no matter how attractive they were, I couldn't see them as anything but brothers.
“Cyrus,” I wrapped my arms around him and let out a small sigh, letting the familiar warmth wrap itself around me. Just then, Ember appeared out of nowhere and joined in for a group hug.
“Hi, pet,” Ember grinned, squeezing me tight.
“Okay, okay, I think that’s enough now,” I said, forcing myself out of their grip. We joked around a bit, but before I could ask any questions, the room’s atmosphere shifted as someone else entered.
“Theodore?” Gramps’s voice broke, his eyes glistening. The brothers exchanged wary glances before they followed their grandfather and greeted their long-lost brother.
As for me? I just stood there and stared at the man who had haunted my darkest nightmares.
I spent most of my time exposing Theodore Delacroix in my column, but I hadn’t seen the man in person in years. The last time I saw him, I was sitting in a field in my prom dress, tears streaming down my face as he walked away without a second glance. It wasn’t just the heartbreak that crushed me—it was the way he made it look so easy as if I had meant nothing to him. That memory, sharp and unforgiving, had carved a hollow ache in my chest that I had carried for years. It was what had made me so cynical and untrusting, and the main reason why none of my relationships seemed to work out. Seeing him now, that pain rushed back like an open wound.
I needed air.
The moment I stepped outside, I heard footsteps behind me.
“Hi, Lily,” he said, his voice infuriatingly calm.
“Lila,” I snapped. He knew that. He always did. He just enjoyed playing games with me.
“How have you been?”
“Good,” I said curtly, refusing to meet his eyes.
Time had only made him more striking. His boyish charm had been replaced with a sharp, magnetic intensity. His presence was suffocating, yet impossible to ignore.
I turned to leave, but he grabbed my elbow, only to quickly release it when I shot him a glare.
“What do you want?” I spat, unable to contain my anger.
He hesitated, his gaze dropping before he met my eyes again. “I need a favour.”
I almost laughed. A favour? After everything he’d done to me?
I had so much to say, but I said nothing. He took this as his sign to continue.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
"What?" I gasped. I was so shocked that I stumbled back a little bit.
"Fake, of course," he said as if that was supposed to make this better. It only made it worse.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m serious, Delilah.”
"Why?"
"Let's just say my business is on the line."
This billionaire tech genius having trouble with his business. It sounded unbelievable, almost laughable. I was ready to reject his offer outright—until a realisation struck me. This could be my chance to make him feel the same heartbreak and pain he once caused me. To watch him crumble the way I had, to strip him of the control he wielded so effortlessly.
“Why me?”
His voice softened. “Because you’re the only woman I’ve ever truly loved. It’ll be easy to fake it with you.”
Hearing that infuriated me, but I kept my cool. After all, this little scheme of his would benefit me more than it would him.
"All right," I tried to sound genuine, "I'm in."
- Writer
