I Became the Billionaire's Fake Lover to Get My Revenge
Chapter 85: Not Everyone Can Be Lucky

Chapter 85: Not Everyone Can Be Lucky

"How old are you, Mr. Garrel?" Marienne asked as they stepped out of the elevator, their footsteps echoing softly down the opulent hallway. "Can I call you Gabriel?"

"I’m twenty-five," he replied, flashing her a smile that reached his eyes. "And yes, you can call me by my first name—especially since you’re older."

He let the last word linger like a thorn, and it landed precisely as intended. Marienne’s expression tightened for a fleeting second before she recovered, masking the irritation with another of her carefully composed smiles.

"I only asked because I know you’re still single," she said smoothly, gesturing for him to enter the suite behind her. "It makes me wonder why. You’re easy on the eyes, charming, and your background is flawless. Anyone would be lucky to date you."

Gabriel gave a dry scoff and nodded, his golden curls falling casually into his eyes. "There is someone I like," he said, his tone turning ever so slightly cool. "But she’s already taken. And unlike a lot of people I know, I have no interest in putting my hands on what doesn’t belong to me."

Another barb—calmly delivered, but sharp as a blade.

Publicly, it was never confirmed that Marienne had begun seeing Robert while he was still married to Anna. Gabriel, of course, shouldn’t have known. That was exactly what made the dig so precise—and so disturbing.

Determined not to let his jabs unnerve her, Marienne moved gracefully toward the kitchenette. A relieved smile touched her lips when she spotted a chilled bottle of champagne waiting on the marble counter, flanked by two tall glasses.Thanks, Seb, she thought wryly. You’ve finally done something right.

"Champagne?" Gabriel’s voice hummed just behind her shoulder, amused. "Do you always keep it on hand—even when you’re not expecting company?"

Marienne’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly—why was he so nosy today? One annoying question after another. She was practically itching to make him shut up already.

"That was my fiancé," she explained, turning around with a practiced smile. "He sends me little gifts like this every day while I’m away from home. Flowers yesterday, champagne today."

She let out a girlish giggle, but Gabriel only nodded, scanning the room with faint amusement.And where exactly are those flowers? Already wilted and tossed, maybe?

"Please, make yourself comfortable on the couch," Marienne cooed, swaying toward the kitchen area. She picked up one of the glasses with her left hand, her movements graceful but deliberate. "I like my champagne with a twist of lemon—helps me avoid those nasty headaches. Want me to mix one for you too?"

"Sure, go ahead," Gabriel replied casually, though his gaze continued sweeping the suite. Even without peeking into the closet or bathroom, it was obvious she wasn’t living here. Everything looked untouched, staged. She must’ve just booked the room.

And yet she lies so smoothly... it’s almost impressive. Someone ought to study her.

"Here you go," Marienne said sweetly as she returned, settling down beside him and handing him the glass with a smile. "Once again, thank you for today. I really owe you one."

Gabriel took the drink and raised it to his lips, his smile polite. "That’s quite alright. I wouldn’t want to be a burden."

"You’re such a gentleman," Marienne laughed, giving him a playful tap on the shoulder. "I’ve heard so many terrible things about French men, but you—you’re nothing like that. Chloe’s lucky to have you as a friend."

Gabriel caught the subtle bitterness laced in her last sentence but chose to brush it off. Lifting his glass, he took another measured sip before replying, "I believe good people attract great people. So yes, Chloe deserves to have someone like me in her circle."

Marienne’s smile twitched—tight, bitter. Another jab, and she took it without flinching, though her patience was clearly beginning to wear thin. Still, she had to endure just a little longer.

"Perhaps you’re right," she said, her voice silkier than before, "but there are always exceptions to the rule. I like to think of myself as a good person... yet not everyone around me could be described as great."

"Oh?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with feigned curiosity. "Why’s that?"

But the moment the question left his lips, he noticed something strange. His tongue suddenly felt heavy, sluggish, as if it no longer belonged to him. A creeping numbness followed, dulling his muscles, making every movement feel slow and sedated.

So, I was right, he thought grimly as his vision began to blur, blinking slowly at the woman seated beside him. She really did try to drug me. But what the hell is she after?

"Not everyone can be lucky, Gabriel," Marienne said sweetly, her smile sharpening into something far more sinister as she plucked the champagne glass from his trembling hand. "What kind of world would that be?"

His eyelids grew impossibly heavy, leaden with the weight of forced sleep. A sigh escaped him as he slumped back into the cushions, the uncomfortable sensation of melting into the seat crawling over his body like a slow wave of wet cement.

"Ugh, finally," Marienne clicked her tongue, setting both glasses down on the sleek marble coffee table with a soft clink. "Now... let’s see what you’ve got on you."

She began rummaging through his pockets, her fingers moving quickly and desperately as she searched for a wallet or cardholder.

He must have some cash on him, she thought, her brows furrowing in frustration. Or at least a few credit cards. I’ll hand them over to Seb—he can drain the money, and then I’ll just blame the hotel staff once they find him unconscious. It’ll be easy.

It wasn’t the most elegant plan, but it didn’t need to be. Not yet. Unfortunately, just as she’d said earlier, luck wasn’t something everyone could summon on command.

"Damn it," Marienne hissed under her breath, yanking Gabriel’s phone out of his pocket and tossing it onto the couch with a scowl. How does he have nothing?!

Groaning in frustration, she grabbed her own phone and dialed Sebastian.

"What?" came his cold voice in her ear, sharp and impatient.

"He didn’t have anything!" she snapped. "I drugged him so I could steal from him, but he’s got nothing! What am I supposed to do now?"

Sebastian’s dry laugh only fueled her irritation.

"There’s no time for this, you idiot. Figure it out. Help me, damn it!"

"Do what you do best, Mary," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Lie."

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