"When you know, you know," Ethan replied. "Maya is unlike anyone I've ever met. I wasn't about to risk losing her to someone who might appreciate what I saw in her immediately."
The pointed comment wasn't lost on anyone in the room. I saw Daniel's jaw clench.
"Well," I said, ending the call before anyone could ask more probing questions, "Ethan sends his regards. He's looking forward to meeting you all at the wedding."
The mention of our fictional wedding created another moment of awkward silence. Finally, our hostess clapped her hands together with forced brightness.
"Well, this has been fascinating, but I think we need more drinks! Maya, come with me to the kitchen—I want to hear all about your ring."
She linked her arm through mine, effectively removing me from the hostile circle. But as we walked away, I heard Marcus say loudly enough for me to hear: "Something still doesn't add up. If I were a betting man, I'd say there's more to this story."
In the kitchen, our hostess—I still couldn't remember her name—poured me a generous glass of wine.
"Don't let them get to you," she said quietly. "Daniel's been telling anyone who'll listen that you're faking this whole thing. Pure sour grapes, if you ask me."
My blood ran cold. "What exactly has he been saying?"
She glanced toward the living room, then leaned closer. "That you're too desperate to accept he's moved on, so you invented this whole billionaire boyfriend story. He thinks you're using photo editing or hired someone to pretend to be Ethan Blackwood." She shrugged. "Personally, I think he's just jealous that you upgraded so spectacularly."
I nodded weakly, my mind racing. If Daniel was actively spreading rumors about my relationship being fake, it was only a matter of time before someone dug deeper, asked the right questions, or—worse—somehow connected this back to Ethan's business dealings.
I needed to leave. Now.
"I should probably get going," I said, setting down the barely touched wine. "Early morning tomorrow."
"Of course, dear. Let me walk you out."
But as we returned to the living room to collect my purse, I found my path blocked by Daniel, Sophia, and their coalition of doubters.
"Leaving so soon?" Daniel asked with false disappointment. "We were just getting reacquainted."
"I have an early morning," I repeated, reaching for my clutch on the side table.
"Of course you do," Sophia said sweetly. "All those important billionaire fiancée duties."
The mockery in her voice was unmistakable. I straightened my spine, channeling every ounce of confidence I'd learned from watching Ethan navigate hostile social situations.
"Actually, yes," I said calmly. "Ethan and I have dinner with Gabriel Montgomery tomorrow night. You know Montgomery—the tech investor? He's considering backing Ethan's latest medical technology venture."
The name-drop had its intended effect. Several people looked impressed despite themselves.
"How fascinating," Marcus said, but his tone suggested he still wasn't convinced. "You seem to have learned quite a lot about the tech investment world very quickly."
"You pick things up when you're genuinely interested in your partner's work," I replied, then added with deliberate sweetness, "I'm sure you'll understand someday when you find someone who values your mind as much as your availability."
The barb hit home. Marcus's face darkened, and I saw Daniel's hands clench into fists at his sides.
"Maya," Sophia said, her voice taking on a harder edge, "there's no need to be nasty. We're just concerned about you. This whole situation seems so—"
"So what?" I challenged, my patience finally exhausted. "So impossible to believe that someone might actually want me for who I am rather than who they can mold me into?"
"That's not what we meant," Daniel said, but his expression suggested otherwise.
"Isn't it?" I looked around the circle of faces—people who had once been my friends, my community, my support system. "Because it seems to me like you're all having trouble accepting that I might be happy without your approval or validation."
I turned to leave, but Jessica's voice stopped me.
"If this is all real," she called out, "then why hasn't anyone else ever seen you with him? Why are there no photos together before last week? Why does he conveniently miss every opportunity to meet the people who've known you longest?"
The questions hung in the air like accusations. Around me, I could feel the collective holding of breath, everyone waiting for my response.
I turned back slowly, summoning every lesson I'd learned from Ethan about projecting confidence under pressure.
"You're right," I said clearly. "There are no photos from before last week. We kept our relationship private because Ethan values discretion and I respect that. As for tonight—" I paused, letting my gaze sweep over each of their faces, "—he had the option of attending, but after I told him about some of the people who would be here, he suggested his time might be better spent elsewhere."
The implication that Ethan had actively chosen not to meet them stung exactly as I'd intended it to.
"How convenient," Marcus muttered.
"Actually," I said, my voice taking on a dangerous sweetness, "what's convenient is that I don't need to prove anything to any of you. My relationship with Ethan isn't up for your approval or validation. If you can't be happy for me, that says more about you than it does about my choices."
I started toward the door again, but in my haste to escape, I misjudged the distance to the side table. My hip bumped against it, sending my wine glass teetering. I reached out instinctively to steady it, but the combination of my momentum and the awkward angle sent me stumbling backward—
Strong hands caught me before I could fall, one at my waist, the other steadying my elbow. I looked up, expecting to see our hostess or perhaps one of the other guests.
Instead, I found myself staring into familiar steel-blue eyes.
"Careful," Ethan said softly, his voice carrying just enough volume for everyone to hear. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt."