The champagne tastes like lies, but I've gotten good at swallowing them. "Smile, Dr. Reeves," Damien whispers against my ear, his hand warm on the small of my back. To everyone at this glittering charity gala, we're the perfect couple—the reclusive tech billionaire and his devoted marine biologist girlfriend. "The social worker is watching." I turn into him, letting my lips curve into something that probably looks like adoration. After eighteen months of this charade, I've perfected the performance. "I know how to do my job, Mr. Thorne." His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He hates when I'm formal in public, but that's the least of what he deserves. We're here for Lily, I remind myself. Everything is for Lily. The seven-year-old is currently spinning across the dance floor with Damien's business partner, her laugh cutting through the orchestral music like sunlight through water. She's wearing the blue dress I picked out—the color of shallow reef waters. She doesn't know that in three days, the final custody hearing will determine whether she stays with her uncle or gets shipped off to her maternal grandmother in Connecticut, a woman who views children as accessories and affection as weakness. "Ms. Chen is approaching," Damien murmurs, and I feel his body tense beside mine. I shift seamlessly into character, softening against him. Sarah Chen, the social worker assigned to Lily's case, has been skeptical of our relationship from the start. Can't blame her. Damien Thorne doesn't exactly scream "stable family man." Before I came into the picture, he was known for three things: revolutionary water purification technology, absolute reclusiveness, and a romantic history that could generously be described as "nonexistent." "Mr. Thorne, Dr. Reeves." Sarah's smile is professional, her eyes sharp. "Lovely to see you both. Lily seems happy tonight." "She's been looking forward to this all week," I say, and it's not a lie. Most of what I say about Lily isn't lies. She's the one real thing in this house of cards. "She helped me pick out my dress." "Mm." Sarah's gaze flicks between us. "And how are the wedding plans coming along?" My stomach drops, but my smile doesn't falter. "We're thinking spring," I say smoothly. "Something small. Intimate. Lily will be the flower girl, obviously." Damien's fingers flex against my back. We haven't discussed this particular embellishment to our story. "I'm glad to hear it." Sarah's expression warms slightly. "Stability and commitment—that's what Lily needs. The hearing is Tuesday, as you know. The judge will want to see evidence of a permanent, loving home environment." "She has that with us," Damien says, and for once, I think he actually means it. After Sarah moves away, I extract myself from Damien's embrace and head toward the terrace. I need air. I need to think about anything other than the weight of the lies I'm carrying. The night is cool, the San Francisco Bay glittering below like scattered diamonds. From here, I can almost see the research facility where I spend my days—where I'm supposed to be saving coral reefs and developing sustainable marine ecosystems. Where I'm actually watching everything I've worked for die. My phone buzzes. A message from Dr. Patricia Wong, my former mentor: *The reef survey results came back. It's worse than we thought. Complete ecosystem collapse within six months if nothing changes. I'm sorry, Mira.* My hands shake as I grip the terrace railing. Six months. Half a year until the Coral Triangle reef system—one of the most biodiverse marine environments on the planet—becomes a graveyard. And I know exactly whose company is responsible. I've known for three months now, ever since I traced the pollution patterns back to their source. Since I hacked into files I shouldn't have accessed and found the truth buried in corporate reports and environmental impact assessments that were conveniently "lost." Thorne Industries. Damien's crown jewel. His revolutionary water purification plants that are supposed to be saving the world are pumping treated wastewater into shipping lanes that feed directly into the reef system. The chemical compounds are technically within legal limits, but they're devastating the coral. And he knows. God help me, he knows and he's doing nothing. "There you are." I don't turn around. "I needed air." Damien joins me at the railing, his presence solid and warm. For a moment, we stand in silence, watching the city lights. "Thank you," he says quietly. "For tonight. For all of this. I know it's not what you signed up for." I almost laugh. He has no idea what I signed up for. When I answered his classified ad eighteen months ago—*Seeking: Professional female for two-year domestic partnership contract. Compensation: $500,000 plus research funding*—I was desperate. My research grants had dried up, my lab was shutting down, and I was about to lose everything I'd worked for. The money was supposed to save my career. Instead, I'm watching my life's work crumble while playing house with the man who's destroying it. "Lily's worth it," I say, because that's true. That little girl with her gap-toothed smile and her questions about seahorses and her nightmares about the car accident that killed her parents—she deserves a family. She deserves love. Even if it's built on lies. "Yes," Damien agrees. "She is." He reaches out, his fingers brushing mine on the railing. It's a small gesture, barely anything. But I feel it like an electric current. This is the dangerous part. The part I didn't plan for. Somewhere along the way, between bedtime stories and family dinners and watching Damien learn how to braid Lily's hair, the lines got blurry. The performance started feeling too real. I pull my hand away. "We should get back inside," I say. "Before people notice we're gone." As I turn to leave, Damien catches my wrist. "Mira. Are you okay? You've seemed distant lately." I meet his eyes—those impossible gray eyes that see too much—and I lie. "I'm fine. Just tired." He studies me for a long moment, and I wonder what he sees. Does he notice the way I flinch when he mentions his company? Does he see the late nights I spend in his home lab, working on something I haven't told him about? Does he have any idea that I'm about to destroy him? "Okay," he says finally, releasing me. "But Mira? After the custody hearing, after things settle down... I'd like to talk. About us. About making this real." My heart stops. "Real?" I repeat. "The contract ends in six months. I know this started as business, but—" He runs a hand through his dark hair, looking uncertain in a way I've never seen before. "I think we could be good together. The three of us. A real family." I can't breathe. Can't think. "Let's just focus on Tuesday," I manage. "On getting Lily what she needs." I flee back into the gala before he can say anything else. Back inside, I find Lily and sweep her into a dance, letting her stand on my feet while we spin across the floor. She's giggling, her small hands gripping mine, and I memorize this moment. The weight of her. The sound of her joy. Because in three days, I'm going to break her heart. And Damien's. And possibly my own. But some things matter more than hearts. Like entire ecosystems. Like the future of our oceans. Like making sure the man who's destroying the world I love understands exactly what he's done.