I Became the Billionaire's Fake Lover to Get My Revenge
Chapter 32: Bickering

Chapter 32: Bickering

Ten months later

Time flies...

Anna shifted her gaze back to the vanity mirror, watching as her long, elegant fingers gathered her golden waves into a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

Her transformation was complete. The face of Anna Hyde no longer existed—had never existed, or so it seemed.

She had grown accustomed to this new reflection, these striking features that no longer bore the scars of her past. The clear, luminous eyes, carefully concealed behind blue-colored lenses. The long, cascading hair. The poised, graceful woman staring back at her.

Chloe Dumas was breathtaking. And Anna had learned to embrace that.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Mademoiselle Dumas," a maid entered quietly, hands clasped neatly over her crisp white apron. "Madame Garrel is waiting for you in the dining room. Breakfast has been served."

"Thank you, Léa," Anna said with a gentle smile, securing her bun with the golden hairpin William had gifted her for her birthday. The cool metal pressed against her fingertips, a quiet reminder of him.

Alright, I think I’m ready.

Smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles in her dark blue dress, she exhaled slowly, nerves fluttering in her chest. Despite the months that had passed, the idea of facing Madame Garrel—the woman who had been tutoring her for the past ten months—still left her unsettled.

"Let’s go," she said at last, nodding for the maid to lead the way.

As they made their way down the grand corridor of the Garrel estate, Anna cast a fleeting glance at the tall marble statue standing at the top of the stairwell.

The mansion was filled with priceless works of art, but this particular sculpture had become part of her daily ritual. A silent gesture, a quiet acknowledgment—perhaps a superstitious habit, or maybe just a small, comforting anchor in an otherwise uncertain world.

The statue depicted a woman gripping the hilt of a sword, its blade piercing through the head of a serpent coiled at her feet. Her expression was one of quiet triumph, though the snake’s tail remained stubbornly wrapped around her left ankle—a lingering threat, a reminder that victory often came at a cost.

Someday, Anna thought, that would be me.

As she stepped into the dining room, a warm, familiar aroma enveloped her—vanilla and coffee beans, blending seamlessly with the creamy scent of fresh milk. She inhaled deeply, savoring it. I’ll miss this scent when I leave.

"Good morning, Chloe!" Madame Garrel greeted her in her usual lively tone. "Have you seen the weather? Absolutely stunning! March has never been so kind to us!" She gestured toward the empty chair beside her, an invitation to join her for breakfast.

"Good morning," Anna replied, sliding into the seat. "I was tempted to sleep in today, but in the end, I decided against it. I think I’d like to take a walk after breakfast."

"Marvelous!" Madame Garrel clapped her hands together, delighted. "We have no lessons today, so you should go outside instead of locking yourself away in that room, as you always do."

Anna flushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at being called out so directly.

Anaïs Garrel, her tutor—and in many ways, her friend—was nothing like the stern, distant women Anna had expected when she first arrived. Despite her seventy-five years, she was far from bitter or rigid, possessing a warmth that made her presence both reassuring and formidable.

When Anna first set foot in the Garrel estate, she had learned that Anaïs had once been William’s grandmother’s closest friend. She had taken him in during summer holidays, providing him with a home away from the cold, detached world of nannies and staff.

The Garrel family owned one of the most renowned luxury perfume brands in the world.

Anna had once owned a bottle of their signature fragrance, La Belle Personne, a cherished gift from her father. She had fallen in love with its elegant scent, a blend of delicate florals and warm vanilla, but after marrying Robert, she had never allowed herself such indulgences again.

Even though she knew her husband could easily afford it, guilt had always held her back.

Anaïs Garrel was a striking woman. Tall and slender, she often boasted that she could still fit into the Chanel suits she had purchased in her twenties—and, remarkably, it was true. Her short white hair was always arranged in perfect, sculpted waves, secured with a delicate platinum pin just above her left ear.

She adored pearls, never seen without them. Whether she was entertaining guests or simply lounging in her study, she wore them in flawless sets—necklace, earrings, bracelet—exuding an effortless grace that seemed almost otherworldly.

Everything about her was immaculate. From the precision of her makeup to the refined cadence of her speech, she embodied a level of sophistication so polished that it could be intimidating. Yet, as Anaïs often said, "Perfection is in the details."

And Anna had come to believe that was true.

"I don’t feel bored," Anna reassured her, pulling a freshly brewed cup of coffee closer to her plate. "I keep myself busy with my studies and painting. There’s still so much I need to master."

Madame Garrel nodded, her sharp gaze softening slightly. "That’s true—there is much to learn. But you mustn’t overexert yourself, ma chère. Even perfection requires restraint. Everything in moderation!"

Anna smiled, nodding in agreement. "You keep teaching me even outside our lessons, Madame Anaïs."

"I can’t do it anymore, so I teach," Anaïs chuckled, though the laughter barely lingered before fading into something more pensive.

She furrowed her thin brows, clicking her tongue in disapproval. "Do you need a special invitation, as always? Perhaps I should start sending Louis to your room an hour earlier, just to ensure you finally join us on time!"

Before Anna could respond, a familiar presence filled the doorway. Her lips curled into a knowing smile as she turned her head toward the entrance.

Disheveled as ever, Anaïs’s grandson, Gabriel Garrel, strode into the dining room with an effortless confidence that starkly contrasted his grandmother’s composed elegance.

His dark blonde curls, thick and untamed, fell over his sharp eyes, giving him an air of careless charm.

Beneath a long, loose-fitting silk robe that draped over his broad frame like a cape, he wore a dark green cotton pajama set, the buttons undone just enough to hint at a rebellious streak.

Unlike the two women seated at the table, Gabriel was the only one who truly looked as if he lived in this mansion—rather than merely visiting as a guest.

Anna sometimes envied his ability to be so utterly at ease, so unbothered by expectations. But she could never allow herself that same freedom. She had a role to play, duties to uphold. She couldn’t afford to disappoint the people who had taken her in.

"Grandmother," Gabriel drawled as he pulled out the chair beside Anna and dropped into it with a lazy nonchalance. "Your nagging hasn’t worked a single time in all twenty-five years of my existence, so might I suggest conserving your fading strength for something a bit more meaningful?"

Gabriel turned to Anna, flashing her his usual flirtatious wink before shifting his dark blue eyes back to his grandmother. The amusement vanished from his face almost instantly.

"This is where my efforts reach their peak," Anaïs lamented, throwing her hands up in exasperation before seeking comfort in Anna’s sympathetic expression. "I have transformed Chloe into an entirely new person in just ten months, yet this—this ungrateful brat—"

"Grandmother!" Gabriel interrupted, his face morphing into a mock expression of horror. "Language, please!"

"Oh! He will be the death of me!" Anaïs declared dramatically.

Anna giggled, shaking her head in feigned disapproval as she caught Gabriel’s signature devil-may-care grin. Without fail, every morning played out like this—an endless battle of playful bickering between grandmother and grandson, turning breakfast into an amusing spectacle for both her and the household staff.

Their family might have been considered incomplete by society’s standards, but to Anna, they were perfect.

William had sent her here to recover, to heal her body—but perhaps, deep down, he had known that this place would mend her heart as well.

And as she watched them, a quiet thought took root in her mind: Was this the home that once healed his wounds, too?

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