I Became the Billionaire's Fake Lover to Get My Revenge
Chapter 73: Brunch

Chapter 73: Brunch

William rose from the bed and looked down at the sleeping Anna. The same woman who had writhed with restless passion just hours ago now lay still and serene, her breathing soft, her expression peaceful—so much so, it was hard to believe she was the same person.

Moving quietly, he leaned in and gently brushed his hand through her hair, fingers gliding over the silken waves of her loose curls. They felt warm and soothing against his skin, like something delicate he didn’t dare disturb.

The sensation stirred something strange in him.

When he had first seen Anna again after all those years, he’d felt nothing but pity for her.

It struck him as pathetic—how a woman once so radiant, driven, and full of compassion had allowed herself to crumble into a hollow version of who she used to be, all because of her blind devotion to a man like Robert Hyde.

He had thought it a shame—how she’d lost her spark, her ambition, nearly even her life. And although it felt like a personal betrayal to see her so diminished, somehow, he still couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

Anna was hopeless, helpless—while he was someone who could offer her both hope and help. And in return, he wanted only one thing—her everything.

Even if it was just a rekindled obsession born from a decade-old infatuation, he didn’t care. He wanted to feed that fire, to stoke it back into an inferno. If he could help her reclaim all she had lost, then maybe—just maybe—he could bring back the Anna he once knew.

And that Anna, the one overflowing with love, would be his. Entirely. Irrevocably. Forever.

I’m greedy, William sighed, burying his face in his hands as if he could wipe away the useless emotions clinging to him like a second skin. She gives me what I want because she thinks she has to—but that’s not enough. I want more. I want her to crave it too. I want her to be consumed by me the way I am consumed by her.

I want everything she has to be mine—her shattered heart, her jaded soul, her hopes, her dreams, her pain, her fury... He exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening against his temples. I want it all. So that one day... when she finally smiles again, I can look at her and know, with absolute certainty, that her happiness belongs to me too.

***

What am I even doing here right now... Anna stirred the straw in her cocktail, forcing a polite smile at the man seated across the table.

When Constantine Greenfield had called her that morning and invited her out for brunch, Anna had been reluctant to accept. The weight of last night’s events still clung to her like a wet cobweb, and the idea of socializing felt more like a punishment than a distraction.

And yet, staying at home hadn’t felt right either. Sitting alone, doing nothing, made her feel like a criminal hiding in plain sight—like her silence was an admission of guilt. As if keeping busy might somehow convince her subconscious that she had done nothing wrong.

So now, despite her better judgment, she was sitting face-to-face with Constantine, doing her best to appear composed and cordial.

"I asked you to meet me because I wanted to apologize, Miss Dumas," Constantine finally said, his voice soft with remorse. "I caused you so much trouble and ruined what should’ve been a lovely evening. I’m really sorry—I am."

Anna blinked at him, caught off guard. It took her a moment to remember what he meant. Of course—he had been the drunken man who refused to leave without saying goodbye to her, delaying everything just as the chaos with Susanne was unfolding. With everything else that had happened, that moment had completely slipped her mind.

"That’s alright!" she said quickly, shaking her head with a light laugh and offering him a more genuine smile. "These things happen. Don’t worry—one or two mishaps are expected when there’s unlimited alcohol at a party."

She giggled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood, but her attempt barely made a dent in the tension. Constantine’s frown deepened—not at her words, but more as a reflection of his own regret than her acknowledgment of it.

"No, I really am ashamed of myself," he lamented, shaking his head. "I can’t believe I embarrassed myself like that... just because I couldn’t handle a few glasses of wine!"

A few glasses? Anna arched a brow. More like a few bottles, from what I heard.

"Well, I must admit, I’m a little disappointed too," she said aloud, nodding with exaggerated seriousness as she pursed her lips playfully. "I was hoping we’d become friends, but I’m not sure I—being the heiress of a wine business—can be friends with someone who gets drunk off a few glasses of rosé."

She giggled again, and this time, Constantine finally cracked a smile, his amusement evident.

"That’s why we should become drinking buddies!" he declared, his tone brightening with enthusiasm. "You can teach me your secrets, Miss Dumas. I’ve always believed that if a woman can handle her liquor, she can probably handle a man like me too."

Anna laughed, tucking a loose wave of hair behind her ear. "I’m not sure building our friendship on alcohol is the best idea," she teased. "Although... having you as my roommate in a rehab clinic doesn’t sound entirely awful."

They both burst out laughing, the tension finally beginning to ease. Constantine nodded in approval of her humor, clearly enjoying the moment.

"And just so we’re clear," Anna added lightly, twirling the ice cube in her drink with her straw, "I’m already taken. I’m dating William Stark."

"Yes, yes, I know," the man replied dismissively, waving his hand as if it wasn’t much of a deal breaker. "But how long can that thing really last, I wonder."

The last sentence wasn’t meant for Anna to hear—but she did. And it sent a ripple of unease through her. Did he know something? Or was it just a careless jab, a joke based on William’s well-crafted public image?

Whatever the intent, Anna chose to ignore it. She forced a polite smile and turned her attention back to her drink, her fingers tightening slightly around the glass.

An awkward silence settled between them, stretching uncomfortably long—until it was abruptly shattered by a voice calling out her fake name.

"Chloe!"

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