Fake Mating To My Ex's Powerful Enemy

Chapter 197: Chapter 197 Setting Things Straight

Christina’s POV

"So whoever took that picture wanted people to think something was happening between you two," I said, putting it together.

"Exactly." Hudson let out a long breath, taking my other hand and pulling me closer. "So you believe me."

"Yes."

I wasn’t sure who felt more relieved—him or me.

His shoulders dropped as the tension left his body.

The sharp pain in my chest eased too, and I felt Akira calming down inside me. She’d been snarling since we saw that photo, but now her anger was cooling off.

"I still don’t like her," Akira grumbled in my head, "but at least he’s telling the truth."

I pulled back to look at him properly. "So someone deliberately cropped that photo and posted it. What were they trying to do?"

His mouth tightened, and I felt the subtle wave of his Alpha presence. "Whoever it was knows damn well I’m not with her alone. They posted that photo specifically to mess with us."

"The weird thing is, it hasn’t blown up," I pointed out. "There’s nothing online. No trending topics, no news stories about Rowan today."

He frowned. "Then how did you see it?"

"One of her fans showed it to me."

We looked at each other, both thinking the same thing without saying it.

If someone had figured out Hudson’s identity and noticed Rowan hanging around him, she could turn that into something huge. Use his connections to boost her career.

Rowan would benefit the most.

But if she was behind it, why hadn’t it taken off?

No fake dating headlines, no PR moves.

"How exactly do you know Rowan?" I asked.

A hint of playfulness flashed in his eyes, though his voice stayed serious.

"High school. Different pack, same school. All the werewolves in the area went to Wessexia."

I rolled my eyes. "I didn’t go to school with you."

His smile got bigger. "My loss, really. I missed having such a gorgeous underclassman. You might have come to my basketball games."

My cheeks got warm, and I tried to ignore the butterflies his words caused. "We’re supposed to be figuring out who’s behind this photo."

He dropped the teasing, getting serious again.

Before we could work it out, his phone lit up on the table.

Unknown number.

Hudson didn’t move.

"You should probably answer that," I said. "It might be about what we’re talking about."

He hit speaker.

"Alpha Hudson." A woman’s voice, soft and a little shaky, came through.

Rowan, he mouthed to me.

"I got your number from Casimir. I need to explain. Someone took pictures of us outside the Atlas Room last night. I only found out this afternoon. I’ve paid to have the photos taken down. It was probably paparazzi. Someone must have heard I was back at the Highrise City. I don’t want you thinking I had anything to do with this. I swear I didn’t. I’ve handled it. If you haven’t seen the photos yet, don’t look. If you have, don’t read anything into it. We were just having dinner. We’re friends. That’s all. I don’t know how the photo ended up looking so... close. Complete accident."

Rowan sounded nervous but honest.

Hudson stayed quiet, and she laughed awkwardly. "You’ve seen it, haven’t you? You don’t think I set this up, do you?"

"Got it," he said simply, then hung up.

He looked at me.

I looked back.

"If she was behind it," I said, thinking it through, "why would she bother stopping it from spreading?"

The photo had never gone viral online.

Daniel had sent it straight to me, but I couldn’t find a single copy anywhere else—not even on trashy gossip sites.

What happened to the photographer after?

Maybe blackmail.

Money from Rowan? ƒгeewebnovёl.com

I shrugged. "Since the whole thing was cleared up, I figured it wasn’t my problem anymore."

"Same here," Hudson said.

His eyes landed on the table, where the cake sat with one slice missing. "You got cake today."

Since the romantic dinner plans were already shot, there was no point explaining it had been part of the whole setup.

I kept my voice casual. "Ysolde had extras. She gave me some."

He grabbed a spoon and took a bite. "It’s good."

His stomach growled loudly.

We both heard it.

"You haven’t eaten?" I asked.

"Came straight from the clinic. No time."

"I saved dinner." I started pushing him toward the dining table.

The food was still there, barely touched.

"It’s cold. I’ll reheat it."

"Don’t worry about it." He caught my wrist before I could leave. "This is fine."

He sat down and started eating.

I opened my mouth, about to tell him I’d made everything myself. Well, mostly.

He spoke first. "Is Carmen off today?"

"No. Why?"

"It tastes different from her usual stuff."

"Do you like it?"

"The duck’s a little tough, and the cherry sauce is too sweet."

"Oh."

Every proud announcement I’d been ready to make got stuck in my throat.

"I’m going upstairs," I said, leaving the dining room.

The second the bedroom door closed behind me, I stripped off my clothes, kicked them on the floor, and headed for the bathroom.

My fingers stung as I turned on the water.

Looking down, I saw a small blister on my hand, the edges red and puffy.

I clenched my teeth.

"Idiot," I muttered. "Complete idiot." fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

I wasn’t a chef. But when I used to cook for Niall, it had been good enough. It must have been seeing that photo this afternoon that threw me off, making my cooking turn out terrible.

So annoying.

I went to the sink, found some burn cream, and winced as I put it on.

The stinging got a little better.

I grabbed the first aid kit from the drawer, wrapped a bandage around my finger, then stared at it.

Hudson wasn’t picky about food, but I knew he noticed everything.

I thought about going to my own room.

But that would be weird.

Especially tonight, after the whole Rowan photo thing.

I changed into my pajamas, pulled back the covers on Hudson’s bed, and got in.

I tucked my bandaged hand under the pillow and closed my eyes.

When he came up, I was curled under the blankets, pretending to sleep.

He kissed the top of my head. "Goodnight."

He took my hand in his.

I jumped.

"What’s this?" He lifted my arm, gently pulling it out from under the blanket.

Even in the dark, he could see the messy white bandage on my finger.

"You hurt yourself."

I pulled my hand back. "Just a pen. Scratched myself at the studio."

I turned away from him, shoving my hand back under the pillow and pulling the blanket over my head.

Hudson reached under the covers, finding my hand again.

He held it tight.

I stayed quiet.

He didn’t move.