The Boyfriend Who Faked a Business Trip Lives Next Door with the Fake Heiress Chapter 04

The Boyfriend Who Faked a Business Trip Lives Next Door with the Fake Heiress Chapter 04

Donovan POV

The first time he “came back from out of town,” Donovan spent the night in that shithole.

A hundred yards from the villa. And he had to pretend he’d just traveled hundreds of miles.

Clara was over the moon. Also embarrassed-her place was a wreck.

One twin bed. A stove you had to light with matches. No table, no chairs. Stuff scattered everywhere.

Ten square meters. Two people. They couldn’t even figure out where to put the giant soda she’d bought him.

Not exactly the ideal setup for impressing your man.

Donovan didn’t act bothered.

They squeezed onto that tiny bed. Couldn’t roll over without elbowing each other. He grinned and teased her: “Tight is good. Keeps us warm.”

Clara’s eyes welled up. She burrowed into his chest.

In the dark, her voice came out small: “Donovan… when I save up enough for a bigger place… let’s get married?”

Donovan froze.

But Clara was already off and running, planning the whole thing.

“Nothing huge. Thirty square meters would be plenty. But it needs its own bathroom and kitchen.”

“And a real bed. A big one. So your feet don’t hang off the end.”

“Once we have a house, it’s real, you know? I’ll wait for you to come back for good…”

Her voice faded. Soon she was breathing evenly, warm breaths against his chest.

Donovan’s chest ached. His eyes stung. He almost cried.

“Clara… you have no idea I’m lying to you, do you…”

His lips moved. Barely a whisper.

She slept on. Didn’t hear a thing.

Donovan lay there holding her, staring at the ceiling all night.

The next morning, he practically fled. “Emergency at work. Gotta go.”

He didn’t look back. For the first time in his life, he felt real fear.

Fear of seeing the look on her face. Fear he’d stay because of it.

After that, he spent a lot of time at his window, looking at Clara’s place.

Tiny. Broken down. Outdoor spigot shared with neighbors. No bathroom. No shower.

He watched her wash her hair under that frozen faucet in winter, dancing around to keep warm, because she was too cheap to turn on the gas.

Donovan almost texted her a dozen times.

“Don’t kill yourself over the gas bill. Heat some water. Wash inside.”

But he never did.

He just stood there, watching that small figure shiver and freeze.

She had no idea. All she wanted was to save a few bucks for a house. For them. For marriage.

Donovan picked up a new habit.

He started buying things. Small stuff. Useful stuff. Hand cream. A smart water dispenser. A hot water bottle. Cotton sheets.

He’d buy them, stare at them, lock them in a cabinet.

Then he’d look away. Try not to think about them. Like he could lock his heart up the same way.

“Donovan! You’re zoning out while kissing me. That’s a crime!”

Violet’s annoyed voice snapped him back. He’d been miles away.

“Sorry. Just tired.”

Violet wasn’t having it. She was the type who needed everyone’s full attention, all the time. “Donovan! Are you brushing me off?! You’re not actually falling for that idiot, are you?!”

She planted her hands on her hips, all wounded and loud. Guests turned to stare.

Donovan’s jaw tightened. He denied it on reflex: “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then say it! Why are you zoning out while kissing me?! Is there someone else?!”

He opened his mouth. Couldn’t exactly say I was thinking about Clara.

“I’m just tired. Quit making a scene. Don’t you still want that ruby necklace for your dress? I’ll get it

tomorrow.”

“I’m done for today. Going upstairs.”

He walked off. Didn’t wait for her reply.

The guests swarmed Violet, running damage control.

“Come on, Lady Gray, the guy’s exhausted. Everyone knows you’re his number one! He drove all the way to get that cake in person. No way he’s got his eye on anyone else!”

“Right? A five-million-dollar necklace, just like that? That’s some next-level devotion!”

“Can’t wait to see it tomorrow, Lady Gray! You’ll show us, won’t you?”

Violet ate it up. Ignored the tiny sliver of doubt in her gut. Back to her regal, bratty self.

Donovan shut his door. Locked out the noise.

He walked to the safe. The one under lock and key.

Hesitated. Then opened it.

Hand cream. Water dispenser. Hot water bottle. Sheets. Stuffed to bursting. Stuff spilled out as soon

as the door swung open.

He frowned, crouched down, started trying to shove it all back in.

There was too much. His hands were shaking.

That’s when he saw the box he couldn’t fit back in.

A DR ring box.

Hands that had signed billion-dollar contracts without a tremor started shaking so bad he could barely open it.

He clenched his fist. Forced himself steady. Opened the lid.

Inside: a simple ring. Small diamond. The kind a regular person could afford if they saved up.

Clara’s size.

The realization hit him like a truck.