Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 120: A Familiar Disruption

Clara turned the moment she sensed me in the doorway, her hands slipping from my mother’s shoulders with practiced ease.

She looked almost exactly the same. Maybe a little older, a little sharper around the eyes—but still unmistakably Clara Langford.

For a second, she just looked at me—like she was making sure I was real.

Her smile bloomed like it had been waiting all day for this exact moment. "Adrien."

I nodded once, offering a small smile of my own. "Clara."

Clara’s expression softened into something... familiar. "You haven’t changed," she said, stepping closer.

"I have."

Clara’s smile dropped for just a second, a flicker of something unreadable—sadness? disappointment? recognition?—before it settled back into that bright, expectant expression. "Well, of course," she conceded, her voice soft, like the sound of the wind. "We all do. But the essence... you still have that quiet intensity, Adrien. The one that always made you seem older than you were."

She took another step, closing the remaining distance between us. And wrapped her arms around me in a light but genuine hug—surprising me. It didn’t linger too long, didn’t cross a line.

"She hasn’t stopped smiling since she got here," my mother chimed, sipping her tea. "It’s been such a lovely surprise. I thought you could use a little light in your life."

"Elise spoils me," Clara said fondly. "Always did."

"You were the only one who let me win at chess."

"That’s a lie and you know it," Clara replied with a wink.

"I can’t believe it’s been seventeen years," she murmured, turning back to me. "seventeen years, and you still look like you walked out of one of those prep school brochures."

"And you still sound like summer break," I replied mildly.

My mother stood, smoothing the silk scarf at her neck. "Look at you two. Still bickering in the same room like when Adrien refused to wear that matching navy suit for your sixth birthday tea party."

Clara gasped, laughing. "You remember that?"

"I have pictures," Mother said, proudly.

I shook my head, amused despite myself. "Let’s not."

"You just got in today?" I asked Clara, redirecting te conversation.

"This morning," she nodded. "Straight from Vielna. I didn’t even unpack before coming here."

"I really didn’t think you’d be coming back," I said, tone dry. "Jet lag doesn’t scare you?"

She waved a hand. "Are you kidding? My father told me just last night that he wants me involved in the company now. Said it’s time I learn the ropes—start understanding the business if I’m ever going to run anything. I got so excited I didn’t even wait for the formal invite. I just packed and flew out."

She beamed. "He said he’ll be sending the request through to you soon, by the way."

I huffed in amusement. "So I’ll be babysitting you now?"

Clara laughed — a soft, bright sound that rang through the sitting room like it belonged there. "You mean you’ll be watching me," she teased, one brow raised, "and technically be my boss."

"Sounds like the beginning of a very long week," I muttered, already envisioning the emails.

She stepped closer, brushing an invisible wrinkle off her blouse with that same effortless elegance she always carried. "Don’t worry, I’m a fast learner. And I brought all the notebooks."

"You brought drama," I said dryly, eyes flicking over her tailored cream pantsuit, the perfectly styled waves of her hair. "And five suitcases, I’m guessing."

"Four," she said with mock offense. "And a carry-on."

I glanced over at my mother, who was now smiling into her teacup like she was watching her favorite show.

"Elise," Clara said sweetly, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her shoulder as she settled back beside her. "Tell him to play nice."

My mother gave me a look that said be good, but all she said aloud was, "I’m just happy to have you both in the same place again. It’s been far too long."

Clara turned to me, resting her chin lightly on her hand. "So you really don’t live here anymore?"

"No," I said, calm but firm. "I moved out a while ago."

"Oh," Clara’s voice was quiet, a little of the earlier sparkle dimming. She seemed to consider this, her gaze drifting to the large windows that overlooked the manicured gardens. "I suppose that makes sense. You wouldn’t want to be stuck living with your mother forever."

I felt a familiar prickle of irritation, a residue from years of similar exchanges. "It’s not about being ’stuck,’ Clara. It’s about independence."

She turned back to me, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Of course. Independence. That’s a very Adrien thing to say." She paused, her eyes scanning my face, searching for... what? Approval? An argument? "So, where do you live now? Still in the city?"

"South of the city," I replied, keeping it brief. I didn’t feel the need to elaborate, to justify my choices to her.

"A shame," she said softly. "I was hoping to catch up over breakfast every morning. Maybe have you pour my coffee again, like old times."

I gave her a neutral look. "You remember that differently than I do."

She grinned, unapologetic. "Selective memory. Comes with the Langford bloodline."

I simply raised an eyebrow. "Right. Well, if you need help navigating the city, selective memory might be less useful than a map."

Clara’s smile didn’t falter, though I saw a spark in her eyes that suggested she appreciated the jab. "Oh fun, you still make everything sound like a tactical exercise. I almost missed it." She leaned back against the settee, looking perfectly at ease. "So, this business thing. Father was rather vague, just said ’Adrien would get me up to speed.’ Does this mean I’m stuck in a cubicle fetching coffee, or will I get to sit in on the important meetings?"

"It means you’ll start by understanding the fundamentals," I said, my voice flat. "The coffee fetching is usually done by the intern and my P.A, but I’m sure we can make an exception for you."

"See, Elise?" Clara turned to Mother, appealing with a mock-distressed look. "He’s already being difficult. Seventeen years and he still treats me like I’m nine and trying to sneak an extra cookie before dinner."

Mother chuckled softly. "He does have a point, dear. The business is complex."

"It’s very complex," I confirmed, directing my gaze back to Clara. "It’s not a summer project, Clara. It’s... significant. Your father wouldn’t just throw you into the deep end. You’ll need to learn the structure, the history, the key players. And yes, probably start with the basics of how things are managed day-to-day."

Her playful demeanor shifted slightly. "I know that, Adrien. I’m not stupid."

"I didn’t say you were," I replied, maybe a little too quickly. "Just... manage your expectations. It’s not going to be a whirlwind tour of boardrooms and signing deals on day one."

"I’m not looking for a shortcut," she said, her voice quieter now, more serious. "Father said... he’s getting older. He wants to know someone in the family can handle things. He thinks... he thinks you’re the best person to teach me. To make sure I understand it properly." She hesitated. "He trusts you."

I let the smallest smile tug at my mouth, then shifted my gaze to the clock on the mantel.

"Let me know when your father sends the paperwork," I said. "We’ll get things moving."

"Of course, we will," she said, her eyes glinting with something unreadable—but still wrapped in warmth.

I nodded and checked the time again.

"I should get going," I said, turning away from the sitting room.

Both women looked up.

"So soon?" my mother asked, already knowing the answer.

"I’ve got a few things to take care of," I said, smoothing down my sleeves.

Clara stood as well, her expression soft but curious. ""Already running off, Adrien? Just when I thought we could properly catch up. You are not even staying for dinner?"

I offered a polite smile. "Another time."

She pouted faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Busy man."

"We’ll have plenty of time to ’catch up’ when you start work," I replied, my tone still mild, despite the underlying current of wanting to escape.

"But that’ll be... work," she said, drawing out the word. "This is... nostalgic. Comforting. Don’t you miss this?"

"It was good to see you, Clara."

"It was good to see you too, Adrien," she said softly, her voice losing some of its teasing edge. "But—"

"Your father will be in touch," I reminded her as I cut her off, stopping just before the threshold.

"He will," she confirmed, stopping close beside me. Closer than necessary. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady. "And I look forward to it. To learning."

"Right."

My mother joined us then, coming up behind Clara. "You’ll come for dinner soon, won’t you, Adrien? I can have Cook make that lemon chicken you like."

"Perhaps next week, Mother," I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Her skin was soft, fragrant with her floral perfume. "I’ll call you."

"You always do," she murmured, patting my arm affectionately.

I turned back to Clara, giving her a nod that conveyed a finality. "Clara."

"Adrien," she echoed. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

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