Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 68

Chapter 68

Chapter 68

Jessica’s POV

I stayed locked in my room all day, the curtains drawn tight to block out the relentless Los Angeles sunshine.

My pillow was soaked, the tears refusing to dry up no matter how many times I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

They felt like a reservoir that had finally burst after six years of holding back the flood.

My phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with unknown numbers from Apex Media’s HR department.

I let it go to voicemail every time, burying my head deeper under the covers.

The way I’d bolted from that conference room should have been answer enough. I mean, who runs out of a job offer like that? But they kept calling, probably thinking it was nerves or a mix-up. If only they knew.

I knew I’d run into Aaron eventually. I’m a journalist; I know how small the world of the elite is.

But I didn’t expect the universe to throw us back into the same orbit this soon, or with such a cruel sense of irony.

To take that job would be to actively participate in destroying everything he’d worked for.

I’d be the one tasked to dismantle his life just to feed a public hungry for headlines and clicks, everything he’d built: his firm, his legacy, the man who’d risen from family rebellion to stardom? No.

He hurt me, yes, shattered my heart into pieces I was still gluing back together. But I wasn’t the vengeful type.

I didn’t want to hurt him back, even if a tiny, bitter part of me whispered that keeping Adrian from him was punishment enough.

Why does my success always have to be tied to his downfall? Why can’t I just win on my own?

This was the second time an opportunity to ruin him had been handed to me on a silver platter.

First, his grandfather’s twisted offer years ago, and now this. It felt like the universe was mocking me, dangling success laced with poison.

“Jessica?”

It was Aunt Lydia. She’d been tapping on the door and calling my name softly since I got back, her voice laced with a worry that made me feel even more guilty.

I stared at the door, my chest heaving. Finally, gathering what little courage I had left, I unlocked it with trembling fingers.

The door creaked open lowly, and there she was, her face etched with worry, her silver hair tucked behind her ears.

“Auntie…” My voice cracked.

“Hey, hey,” she whispered, stepping into the room.

I broke into a fresh sob, and collapsed into her arms.

She held me tight, her hand stroking my hair as I dampened the shoulder of her sweater.

I cried for what felt like hours, the kind of ugly, heaving cries that left my eyes puffy and my throat raw.

13:21 Mon, Jan

Chapter 68

When the storm finally subsided to hiccups, she led me gently to the living room.

We sank onto the sofa, the late afternoon light casting long shadows across the floor.

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“Now, tell me what happened,” she said softly, her hand still on my arm. “You came home looking like you’d seen a ghost.”

There was a long silence. I stared at my red, puffy reflection in the darkened TV screen before I finally opened up.

I took a shaky breath and spilled it all: the interview, the job offer, the “hypothetical” that turned out to be Aaron. How they wanted me to shadow him, dig into his personal life, expose his love life or lack thereof.

She listened without interrupting, her expression shifting from concern to understanding.

When I finished, she rubbed my back gently.

“Don’t worry about Apex, Jess. If it feels wrong, it’s wrong. You’ll get another job. A better one. One that doesn’t ask you to lose your soul.”

I leaned my head on her shoulder, fresh tears welling up.

“Why does it always happen to me? Why can’t I just have happiness that lasts? Every time I think I’m close-a good job, stability-it’s ripped away. Tied to him, or the past, or some impossible choice.”

She sighed, her hand pausing mid-rub.

“I’m sorry, honey. I wish I had the answers. Life’s not fair like that sometimes. But I do know one thing that might make you smile.”

She wiggled her brows playfully, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“I made chili dogs. Your favorite-extra cheese, just how you like it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh through the tears, a watery, genuine sound that surprised even me.

“You didn’t.”

“Well…. I did. Food is the cure for all life’s problems,” she joked.

“Come on, let’s get some food in you.” She stood and headed to the kitchen, returning with a plate steaming with the savory goodness.

I thanked her and took a bite, but the flavor was a trap. It took me back to a night in Florida; the weekend dinner at his grandparents’ house.

Aaron had pulled over at a roadside stand on the way home because he’d heard my stomach growl.

Nostalgia was a cruel thing-sweet and stabbing all at once. It’s a phenomenon that felt like a phantom limb, a part of you that was gone but still throbbed with pain.

I still couldn’t believe I had actually left him. There was a time I thought I couldn’t breathe without him, yet here I was, six years later, still inhaling and exhaling.

Technically, I still wasn’t free; he haunted my daydreams, and I saw his face every single time I looked at our son.

“You know,” Aunt Lydia said, breaking into my thoughts as she sat back down with her own plate, “he asked today.”

I paused mid-bite, and turned to her.

“Hmm?”

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Chapter 68

“Adrian. He asked about his father today.”

My veins felt like they’d been pumped with liquid lead. My brain went static.

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I finished chewing slowly, ensuring I swallowed every bit before I spoke. I didn’t want her to see the mess in my mouth, or the mess in my head.

“And… what did you tell him?”

She took a deep breath, her gaze steady on mine.

“I told him he’d meet him soon. Jess, Adrian is growing up. He’s starting to notice the gaps in his story. If you aren’t careful, he’s going to grow up hating you for keeping the truth from him.”

I looked away, but she continued.

“In your quest to ‘protect’ him, you might just be creating the opportunity to lose him. Don’t let your personal grudge keep that boy from a father who might actually want to love him. Don’t keep him from a good life.”

She squeezed my knee, the gesture final, and rose to her feet.

“He’s napping now. And also, I have an appointment tomorrow evening with the surgeon. Would you be able to come with

me?”

“Of course,” I nodded absent-mindedly. “I’ll be there.”

She left the room, but her words stayed, circling my head like vultures.

AAAA

Later that night, unable to sleep, I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop, deciding to check emails from the other places I’d applied to.

One by one, rejections popped up. Polite form letters thanked me for my interest but wishing me luck elsewhere.

I sighed, and ran my fingers through my tangled hair, frustration bubbling up.

I was just about to shut the lid and admit defeat when a random ad on a local job board caught my eye.

[PERSONAL ASSISTANT NEEDED. MUST BE ARTICULATE WITH STRONG WRITING SKILLS. PAY: $5,000/MONTH.]

I didn’t care about the job description. I didn’t care that it wasn’t “journalism.”

That amount-five thousand dollars a month-was the answer to every prayer I’d whispered before I landed in this city. It was the rent on a safe apartment, the looming cost of Aunt Lydia’s surgery, and a solid foundation for Adrian’s future.

In a city as expensive as Los Angeles, that kind of money wasn’t just a salary.

I knew how to write; journalism had honed that skill into a weapon.

I didn’t stop to think about who the employer might be or why the pay was so high for a simple assistant role. I just needed

the money.

I clicked ‘Apply’ attached my resume, and hit send.

Sure, tons of people must have jumped on this-who wouldn’t for that pay?-but hopefully, I’d stand out. Fingers crossed.

I shut the laptop and padded into the bedroom.

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