Chapter 5
Ryan
I sat at the conference table, listening to my PR manager Sarah flip through those goddamn reports.
"Your brand is bleeding money, Ryan. Sponsors are pulling out because of the playboy image," Sarah's voice was sharp as a blade. "The airport photos made everything worse."
I rubbed my temples. Fuck, Isabella had to make me drive her that night, and now everything was screwed.
"We recommend a public engagement," my assistant handed over a planning proposal. "Prove you're a committed boyfriend, salvage your image."
An engagement? I almost laughed. But looking at those sponsor cancellation emails, the smile quickly froze on my face.
"Fine. Let's do an engagement. But make it spectacular, I want every media outlet covering it."
Sarah's eyes gleamed with calculation: "What about the ring? Something Instagram-worthy?"
"Leave that to me."
Two hours later, I stood in Beverly Hills' most expensive jewelry store, watching the designer display the 3D model. The ring design was indeed clever—a large center diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds, perfectly mimicking the aperture blades of a Leica lens.
"This design is unique - capturing eternity through the lens of love," the designer said proudly.
"Perfect. Make two identical ones. Different sizes, but identical design."
The designer's expression shifted subtly, but quickly returned to professional composure: "Understood, Mr. Mitchell. Discretion is our specialty."
Samantha
The Malibu beach at sunset was postcard-perfect, the ocean breeze caressing my cheeks. I excitedly directed the set designers adjusting the flower arrangements, my heart full of anticipation.
"Baby, this is so beautiful! You really planned all this for me?" I turned to embrace Ryan, tears welling in my eyes.
He was on a phone call, absently patting my shoulder: "Of course, anything for you. Excuse me, work call."
I felt a pang of disappointment, but was quickly distracted by the stunning setup before me. White roses, champagne towers, and those carefully arranged lights—everything was perfect beyond belief.
A man appeared from nowhere, whispering to the crew: "Make sure the lighting is perfect for photos. This needs to trend."
I looked at her questioningly, but she just smiled and nodded before hurrying away.
At eight PM, guests formed a semicircle on the terrace, professional photographers and videographers positioned. The sound of waves provided the perfect soundtrack, everything felt like a movie scene.
Then Ryan dropped to one knee.
The ring sparkled under the lights, designed like a Leica lens, so beautiful it took my breath away.
"Samantha, you are my muse, my inspiration. Will you marry me and be my forever model?"
"Yes! Yes, of course! I love you so much!" I choked out through tears, my vision blurring.
The guests erupted in exclamations and camera clicks: "So romantic! The ring is gorgeous! Perfect couple!"
I felt like I was dreaming. This moment was too perfect, almost unreal.
Then Isabella appeared.
She emerged from the crowd's edge in an elegant black evening dress, like a ghost deliberately positioning herself in the best lighting.
"Congratulations on your engagement. Beautiful ring, very... familiar design," she raised her champagne glass, a ring sparkling on her finger under the lights.
My heartbeat skipped. That ring... it looked exactly like mine.
Guests began whispering: "Wait, is she wearing the same ring?" "That's impossible..."
Isabella gracefully approached me, her voice sweet as poison: "May the best woman win the real prize."
Ten minutes later, I excused myself to the bathroom and secretly followed Isabella to the study. I needed to see up close, needed to prove I was wrong.
But I wasn't wrong.
"Identical rings for identical purposes," Isabella smirked, flaunting her ring. "You're the public show, I'm the private treasure."
My voice trembled: "That's impossible...Ryan loves me...he proposed to me..."
"Oh honey, you really don't understand how this industry works, do you?"
The party was over. I sat on the edge of our bed, staring at the ring on my finger, my mind swirling with confusion.
Ryan was excitedly checking social media, satisfied with the trending engagement hashtags.
"Baby, Isabella's ring looked exactly like mine..." I ventured carefully.
He didn't look up, his tone impatient: "Coincidence. Designers recycle ideas. Don't overthink everything."
Maybe I really was overthinking. Maybe it was just coincidence. The ring was beautiful, and he chose me...
I stared at the ring's reflection in the darkness: "This is proof of his love... Even if Isabella has one too... Mine is special..."
Lying in bed, I clutched the engagement ring tightly: "I'm going to be Mrs. Mitchell... That's all that matters..."