Chapter 4The Fake Engagement: Photoshopping My Happily Ever After

To verify the incredibly absurd theory forming in my head, I immediately took PTO and rushed back to my apartment.

During our cold war, I had kicked Liam out to stay at a friend's place.

Sitting on the coffee table was an old iPad Liam had been meaning to sell online. If I was lucky, his iMessage and iCloud were still logged in. Months ago, he had complained about running out of storage, so I had upgraded him to the highest tier of cloud backup on my dime.

Everything synced automatically. I knew I would find exactly what I was looking for.

And I did.

In the dead silence of my apartment, my knuckles turned white gripping the tablet.

I scrolled back five years. Back before we were officially dating, right after he 'heroically' defended me in the dining hall, he was texting his college roommates:

[Some people will put on a pathetic act just to get out of doing real work.]

On graduation day, when he hastily proposed with stolen flowers, he told me it was an impulse and it was okay if I said no. But to his frat brother, he texted:

[Chloe thinks carnations are too cheap. She's demanding 999 roses before she'll say yes.]

When he borrowed my laptop, he fabricated a digital trail making it look like I was trying to sell David's core data to a rival firm. Then he turned around and begged David not to fire me, playing the hero who prevented the leak, effectively securing his own spot on David's team.

When I teased him that his second proposal with a beer tab lacked a bit of effort, he spent the entire night complaining in his department's group chat, playing the self-deprecating martyr:

[I guess it's true what they say. Love without money is like sand in the wind. How am I supposed to afford a 5-carat diamond?]

When coworkers gasped and asked if I specifically demanded five carats, he stayed silent, letting their imaginations run wild.

And then came this past New Year's Eve. He booked the resort, put on the suit, and I admit—when he took off the heavy mascot head, sweating and smiling, I was genuinely moved.

Until I noticed his phone propped up on a tripod, live-streaming the entire thing. He had sent the link to all our college alumni and colleagues.

Hundreds of people were watching.

In that moment, I couldn't tell if he actually loved me or if I was just a prop for his performance.

We had a screaming match and didn't speak for a month.

What I only discovered now was that after I stormed off that night, Liam kept the livestream running for hours. His frat brothers took turns joining the stream, calling me a gold-digging opportunist and urging him to dump me.

Brother A aggressively demanded: "With your tech salary, you're doing just as well as these Manhattan girls. Dump her. You can find someone younger and richer. Why are you hung up on her?!"

Liam played the role of the tragic, loyal boyfriend to perfection.

"We've been together for five years. She gave me her best years. Walking away now would be a betrayal."

"Besides, she's not a bad person. It's just her background. Her best friend Sarah is gorgeous and loaded. It makes sense that Chloe feels insecure and wants more material proof of my love."

"I just need to work harder. Once I save enough, I'll bring her home."

With just a few sentences, he solidified his image as the ultimate devoted partner.

But during our month-long cold war, Liam had been actively swiping on dating apps and meeting new women. Yet, upon entering the brutal New York dating market, he quickly realized that a handsome face and a decent tech job weren't enough to secure the wealthy, elite city girls he secretly desired.

He hit a wall. And so, he orchestrated this dinner to break the ice and win me back.

He didn't propose because he loved me.

He proposed because, after weighing the pros and cons, I—the girl with an apartment, no debt, and blind devotion to him—was his safest safety net.

That was why he used AI to generate the jewelry on Instagram to mark his territory.

If he hadn't restricted me from the post, I would have stayed in the dark forever.

I sat frozen on my sofa, my blood turning to ice. I couldn't move a muscle.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

Sarah sent me a photo. I zoomed in. Liam was smiling brightly at a café. Sitting across from him was a young woman, and next to her was David—setting up the blind date he had promised.