Chapter 6: The Heiress Unmasked

Just like when I met him at ten—twenty-year-old Brendan Tate, young, cool, full of promise. He’d smiled, patted my head, and said I was so tiny. All along, I was the only one really invested in this relationship.

Back at the old house, my father ate dinner with me, mentioning Brendan had called an hour ago.

“He was polite enough, but pretty insistent about protecting ‘Mia Walker.’”

“Char,” my father said, using my nickname, “stop making trouble.”

I didn’t answer. Two hours later, Brendan’s secretary called, mapping out my future—study abroad, work at home, every option perfectly tailored for “Mia Walker.” But I was more than just Mia Walker, and it stung.

After the call, Jordan asked quietly, “Are you really giving him that land?”

“Of course not,” I sneered. “Just a verbal agreement. I’ll flip the table when the time comes.”

If he can break his word, so can I.

But for a month, Brendan made no move on the project. One night in late autumn, Jordan came home reeking of booze, telling me the new project was in New York. I was working late, my head aching, but the mention of New York made my heart twist.

“They say Brendan’s been down lately,” Jordan said slyly. “His stomach’s been acting up, in the hospital twice.”

His stomach problems had never been serious. In the six months we were together, he was always healthy.

“He’s getting old,” I said dryly, signing his contract. “Thirty-something—nothing unusual.”

Jordan couldn’t read my face, so he left.

That night, the phone Mia Walker used rang for twenty-one seconds. Caller ID: New York.

A week later, Tate Holdings put together a team for the project. On signing day, I told Jordan, “If you need to double-cross, do it.”

He flashed an OK sign. “He’s not getting that land.”

An hour later, Jordan called, furious. “Damn it, Brendan double-crossed first!”

My breath caught. I froze, phone still in hand, then hung up as if waking from a dream.

“He changed his mind!” Jordan yelled. “He doesn’t want the contract—he wants you back.”

“Why the hell didn’t he do this earlier? Why’d he get to double-cross first?”

I didn’t answer, just let the words echo in my chest. Brendan stayed silent, no messages to Mia’s phone. I shoved aside my tangled thoughts and went back to work. By the time I got home, it was past nine.

The courtyard was bright with lights. I handed my coat to the housekeeper, asking offhand, “Do we have guests tonight?”

“Someone from New York,” she said with a smile. “A Mr. Tate.”

My heart stuttered. Looking up, I saw Brendan sitting on the living room sofa, our eyes locking.

“Miss Xu,” he greeted, voice warm, “it’s true what they say—seeing is believing.”

The scent of tea filled the room, softening his features in the lamplight. He lounged on the sofa, legs crossed, looking perfectly at ease. But the familiar pressure was building, thick in the air.

I walked over. My father introduced us. “This is Brendan Tate.”

The Tate family’s eldest, head of Tate Holdings—my father’s peer. Brendan’s gaze was as steady and indulgent as it had been two months ago, as if nothing had changed.

“Mr. Tate,” I said, slipping easily into my Mia persona, letting my voice fall into that LA accent. “Hello.”

He paused, twisting his ring. My father stood up. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

I poured myself tea, slouched on the sofa, and got straight to the point. “When did you figure it out?”

He kept his eyes on me, as if seeing something new. Of course—it was the first time he’d seen this version of me.

“Today, when we signed the contract.”

That surprised me. With his sharpness, I thought he’d have caught on sooner.

He seemed to read my mind, giving a wry smile. “After you left, I was a mess—couldn’t think straight.”

“Char,” he said my name, as if it was unfamiliar on his tongue. After a pause, he asked, “Why did you do it?”

“Why? Don’t you know?” I looked down. “The moment you broke off the engagement, Charlotte Xu never stood a chance.”

He stayed silent. He’d been at the top too long—never needing to lie or explain.

“Let’s leave it at that, Mr. Tate,” I said, suddenly exhausted. “Like you said, these past months were just an experience.”

“From now on, we go our separate ways.” I stood, showing him out. “I’ll walk you out.”