Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 82: A Scandal?

ISABELLA’S POV

The cold air hit me the second I stepped out of Vantage & Cole. My bag was slung over one shoulder and I was halfway to sighing in relief when my phone rang.

Aria.

I answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

Her voice, however, wasn’t casual. It was frantic, fast and devoid of any usual greeting. It was just:

"Bella, where are you?! Is anyone swamping you? I’m on my way to get you right now. Just stay put, okay?"

And then—click. She hung up.

She hung up before I could even process the words, let alone ask a single question.

I lowered my phone, staring at the blinking screen in utter confusion.

"...Okay, that was weird."

I stared at the screen like it would suddenly explain itself.

Aria always had a flair for drama, but this? This sounded... urgent. Panicked. Like someone just told her that her favorite music group was disbanding and she needed immediate emotional support —or worse, like she thought I was in actual danger.

"What the hell did she get herself into now?"

My mind raced through the usual suspects. Was it another dating emergency? Her mum forcing another matchmaking setup with some clueless ’ideal husband’ candidate who ’had potential’? And she wanted me to fake a family emergency and call her out of it?

Because honestly, that scenario would make sense perfectly with Aria’s usual brand of chaos.

Standing there on the pavement outside the imposing skyscraper, the initial chill of the air now forgotten in the sudden heat of confusion and rapidly brewing concern, all I could do was wait. Wait and wonder what fresh chaos Aria was speeding towards, and why she evidently thought it might involve me.

I barely had time to make up a theory before her car screeched to a stop in front of the building. I didn’t even have time to react before she flung the passenger door open.

Aria leaned across the center console and gestured wildly.

"Get in."

My protest died on my tongue. "What—?

"JUST GET IN, ISABELLA."

She didn’t have to tell me twice. Dropping my bag unceremoniously onto the passenger floor, I scrambled into the seat.

She hit the gas before I even got the door shut.

I fumbled for the seatbelt, clicking it into place and finally turned to face her to brace for impact – either physical or narrative.

"Okay," I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady despite the sudden acceleration and the knot forming in my stomach. "Talk. What on earth is happening? Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost—who also hacked your social media and posted your baby photos?"

She didn’t answer right away. Her jaw was tight. Her hands gripped the wheel like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Finally, the words came out, slow and heavy despite the speed we were travelling.

"The internet is going wild."

My frown deepened, the simple statement doing nothing to clarify the situation.

"...Why?"

She glanced at me, then back at the road. Her lips pressed together in a thin line.

"You haven’t seen it?"

"Seen what, Aria?" The impatience was creeping into my voice now.

She bit her lip, hesitating for another tense moment. Then, slowly and with obvious reluctance, she reached for her phone nestled in the cupholder between us and handed it to me.

What was on that screen? What chaotic event had erupted online, important enough to provoke this level of panic and a dramatic, high-speed rescue from my office building? I was about to find out.

"Read it," she said quietly.

I looked down. Her browser was already open—

My eyes scanned the screen, already open to a news site. And there they were. Screaming headlines in bold, aggressive fonts:

"Mysterious Woman Linked to Adrien Walton Seen in Emotional Embrace with Unknown Man."

"Tycoon CEO’s Girlfriend Caught in the Rain With Another Man."

"Secret Romance or Scandal?"

And many more, variations on the same theme, screaming from the screen in bold, judgmental fonts.

My heart dropped. My breath hitched.

I was in blurry pixels standing in the rain.

"...Oh my God." The whisper was barely audible above the engine’s roar.

A cold wave washed over the initial shock.

My thoughts spiraled before I could stop them, accelerating faster than the car. This wasn’t just personal embarrassment. This wasn’t just about me.

Adrien.

In the space of minutes, a quiet evening had dissolved into a high-stakes escape, all because of some photograph, a private moment, had been twisted into a public spectacle.

Speeding through the city, clutching a phone displaying headlines that threatened to derail not just my life, but the carefully constructed world of Adrien Walton too, all I could think was: What fresh hell was this?

Oh my goodness — he is going to kill me.

What would this do to him?

He was the face of a billion-dollar company.

Would this hurt his image? Would the board question his judgment? Investors? The press?

Wait why am I worried about him? I should be scared for myself!

Aria’s panicked rescue mission suddenly made a lot more sense. The online storm wasn’t just a fleeting moment of internet drama; it was a potential crisis in the making, and I was right in the eye of it.

My innocent, rainy-day encounter had been captured, twisted and weaponized, and now it threatened to engulf everything – and everyone. The question was, how do we weather this storm?

I swallowed hard.

I signed a contract.

No scandals. No behavior that could tarnish his name.

Oh God. Would he think I did this on purpose?

What if this cost me everything?

"What do I do?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the car engine.

Aria looked over, her voice gentle now. "I don’t think you have to worry about it."

I stared at her, my mind unable to process her words. "What?" It felt like she had just grown another head.

"All we need right now is for you to stay indoors," she said. "Adrien called me himself. Told me to come pick you up and make sure you were safe."

I blinked, the information barely registering. "Adrien called... you?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"...How? We were just in the office together before he had that call and suddenly left early—wait. Is that why he left?"

Panic surged through me again.

"Hold on. How did he even get your number?!"

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