The Boyfriend Who Faked a Business Trip Lives Next Door with the Fake Heiress Chapter 03

The Boyfriend Who Faked a Business Trip Lives Next Door with the Fake Heiress Chapter 03

Donovan POV

The second Violet’s lips touched his, Donovan’s brain went blank.

Unlike Clara’s lips—clean, plain, nothing—Violet’s were caked in lipstick. Sweet with a hint of bitter. He held his breath on instinct, repulsed.

Five years living together. He’d kissed her maybe a handful of times.

Mostly, Violet used kisses as rewards. Dangled them to keep him jumping through hoops.

He’d known Violet before Clara was even brought back to the Gray family. The Grays and the Blacks had a standing arrangement—a future merger. Everyone assumed he’d eventually marry Violet.

So did Violet.

So Donovan had gotten used to giving her whatever she wanted. Even when she was a brat about it.

“It’s for the family,” his father had told him sagely. “You don’t have to love her. Just keep up appearances in public.”

Donovan took that to heart.

He didn’t particularly like Violet. So he’d gone abroad for school, kept his distance.

But when she asked for something? He gave it.

The first time Donovan saw Clara was after Violet made that post.

“What Lady Gray wants: Clara to have hope—and then lose it all over again.”

“—Lady Gray gets,” he’d replied automatically.

Then he did a double take.

This time Violet wasn’t asking for a bag or a dress. She wanted him to play with the real heiress’s head.

Donovan thought it was a bit much. But Violet had the Gray family wrapped around her finger—fake or not. They weren’t changing the engagement plans.

For the sake of both families, he went along with it.

Sorry, Clara.

That was the first time Donovan apologized to Clara in his head. For the damage he was about to do.

Clara and Violet couldn’t have been more different.

Violet was loud, gorgeous, curvy. She had this entitled, bratty energy.

Clara? Small. Hunched. Hair hanging over her eyes. She spoke so soft it was practically a whisper.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I spilled your coffee…” She looked like she was about to cry.

Donovan stared at her, fascinated.

The real Gray heiress, working as a waitress in an oversized uniform, trying to scrape together a living.

His instincts told him Clara would be easy. She was the type—starved for affection. Give her crumbs, she’d hand over her whole heart.

So he smiled. Warm. Gentle. Like a real gentleman.

“It’s okay. Did you burn yourself?”

She looked up. Those scared eyes of hers met his.

Donovan felt something flicker in his chest. He told himself it was just the thrill of the hunt.

Everything went smoothly.

Clara became his girlfriend—on paper.

He spent a year solidifying the act.

Twelve months of being the perfect boyfriend. Checking in on her. Showing up. Playing the part of a broke guy who loved her. Watching coldly as she fell deeper and deeper.

On schedule, he “got transferred” out of state. Clara’s eyes went red.

“Please eat properly. Get enough rest. Check the weather so you don’t catch a cold…”

She fussed over him while packing his stuff. Didn’t say one word about herself.

Donovan almost asked: What about you?

All that worry—and not one request for him to miss her, to visit, to think of her.

He held back.

At the very last second, Clara looked up at him, voice cracking.

“Don’t miss me too much. Don’t feel like you have to come see me all the time.”

“I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry.”

Clara, who’d never been treated right a day in her life. Clara, who’d never had anyone genuinely care. Her parting words were don’t worry, take care of yourself.

Donovan turned away. Couldn’t look her in the eye.

Sorry, Clara.

How many times had he thought that now?

The plan chugged along.

Donovan moved into the villa across the street from Clara. With Violet.

Different rooms—that was just how old money worked. Separate suites.

Violet didn’t mind. Donovan knew she wanted the merger more than she wanted him.

He almost laughed. They were running tactical operations just to mess with one girl.

He didn’t notice that with every passing day, he was the one falling deeper. Step by step into his own trap.