Chapter 4

I couldn't help but take another look at him.

He was dressed head to toe in designer everything: a Balenciaga jacket, Cartier jewelry, and a Patek Philippe watch.

And parked behind him was a flashy sports car that practically screamed "I'm loaded."

I frowned, studying his rather handsome face, my face-blind brain searching for any memory of him. Pretty sure I'd never seen him before, I finally said, "I am. And you are...?"

But before I could finish, he tossed his perfectly gelled hair and announced loud enough for the whole campus to hear.

"Emily, let me make one thing clear: yeah, we might be engaged, but don't get any ideas. I would never fall for some country bumpkin like you," he shouted.

It was right before class. The area around the labs was packed with students.

And between his loud voice and that obnoxious car, we'd already become the main attraction.

People were stopping, staring, whispering behind their phones.

I was totally stunned.

What?

Engaged?

But I never knew that.

Then it hit me.

I frowned at him and said, "So you guys are doing romance scams now? Is your plot always this over-the-top?"

Did he really think someone with a Ph.D. would fall for this?

This was insane.

He froze for a second, then nearly jumped out of his skin with rage.

"A scam? Me? You're the Carter family's long-lost daughter, aren't you? Didn't your dad tell you? I'm a Shaw. We are engaged," he yelled.

And just like that, it all fell into place.

A few days ago over dinner, my dad had casually asked if I was seeing anyone.

When I said yes, he'd looked a little disappointed and told me to bring him around sometime.

Then he'd added, "Since you're already taken, I'll go ahead and cancel that engagement your mother arranged for you."

Maybe he'd been too swamped to actually get around to it.

What I didn't expect was for this "fiancé" to be so impatient that he'd track me down on campus.

I was just about to say, "Relax, the feeling's mutual," but he cut me off before I could even open my mouth, puffing out his chest like a proud peacock.

He said, "Alright, Emily, cut the act. I came here to make one thing perfectly clear: Vanessa is the only girl I've ever considered my fiancée. Since we were kids.

"Even if she turned out not to be a Carter, it wouldn't change a damn thing. I know you've fallen for my charm, but do us both a favor and give up."

I couldn't believe my ears.

His level of self-absorption was truly awe-inspiring.

I was so thrown by the sheer audacity that I completely forgot to mention the engagement was already being canceled. Instead, I heard myself ask, "Hey, just out of curiosity, do you not own a mirror?"

He frowned at me. "What kind of stupid question is that? Of course we have mirrors. My house has like, five floors."

"Really?" I said, tilting my head with more confusion. "So you look at yourself every day and still manage to be this delusional about your looks?"

Seriously, I really meant it.

All it would take was one honest look in the mirror and a quick scroll through Instagram to see how average he really was.

It took him a second to process that I was insulting him. When it finally clicked, he practically exploded.

"Emily," he roared. "How dare some nobody from the slums talk to me like that! Do you even know who I am? I'm Brandon Shaw. The Brandon Shaw."

Brandon Shaw?

I froze for a second, and then it hit me.

The Shaw family were the casino tycoons from Goldare.

And then it rang a bell.

I studied his face and asked, "So, you know Henry Shaw?"

When I mentioned Henry, Brandon finally calmed down. He gave a cocky toss of his head and snorted smugly.

He sneered, "That's my uncle. Starting to feel scared now? We're not someone you mess with. Keep being a smart-ass, and Uncle Henry will tell your dad."

It sounded less like a threat and more like something a petulant child would whine on the schoolyard.

I could only look at him, a wave of pity and acute embarrassment washing over me.

Henry talked to my dad? Seriously?

I quietly pulled out my phone. There were a few unread messages from Henry himself.

[Baby, how are things with your dad? Have you told him about us yet?]

[When I get back, I'll come see him properly. Put in a good word for me, okay? Oh, and does he like antique art? I'll bring a few pieces.]