Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 252: Teens in Love

–Alyssa–

I feel bad for Lore.

He won’t be able to witness our launch. He’s been up all night and is completely knocked out in the family room, sprawled on the couch like a fallen soldier. Mom has to wipe his face, neck, and arms with a warm cloth. It doesn’t wake him—not even a twitch. We just close the heavy curtains, dimming the room into a soft twilight, and let him sleep while I work on my school tasks.

"Aly," Mom says as she delivers a snack, setting it gently beside my laptop. "Poor guy. He’s been asleep for twelve hours."

"Yes, let him," I reply, sighing as I scroll through my notes. "It’ll take three days or more to recover all that lost sleep." I look up at her. "Mom, sit down. We’re launching our first marketing campaign. It was my idea—and Lore’s idea." I giggle.

Mom sits beside me, and we watch together. The screen glows softly in the quiet room. When it ends, she claps—but carefully, not loud enough to wake Lore.

"Beautiful! Why didn’t you pursue marketing?"

"Well," I shrug, popping a grape into my mouth, "it’s fun. But I like designing dresses and being the fashionista of the family."

She pats my shoulder. "Still, that’s great. I think you should help your brother with the business." She kisses my temple.

"I’ll think about it."

She stands. "Alright. Continue with your work."

Lore suddenly sits up, muttering something completely unintelligible. His hair sticks out in every direction as he staggers away, and I glance at him.

"Toilet’s outside, on the left," Mom says. He nods without really looking and disappears down the hall. She mutters something about warm water.

Lore comes back and curls into his spot again, ready to hibernate. Mom hands him a mug of warm water. He drinks it all in one go.

"Do you want to eat?" she asks.

"Uhhh..." His eyes look glassy, his brain clearly buffering.

"Yes, he’ll eat," I decide for him. "You missed the launch," I add.

"I know your idea and my creation will make it perfect," he says, yawning.

I turn on the television just as the conference about the scandal begins. David is standing beside the country manager and the NBI, presenting evidence of discrepancies. He doesn’t stop there—he emphasizes that our donations to various organizations, including scholarships, will not be discontinued.

"From the lows and highs of our Empire, we will support them," he says.

Amazing words, coming from my very handsome brother.

I clap, and just like that, our company starts trending. Orders flood in—luxury items selling out in minutes. Those who sold our products cheaply rant online, furious.

Joke’s on them.

Loyal customers just bought from them at a discount.

Our oldest design—the original—is being auctioned for nearly half a billion.

But anyway. Business.

"Wow," Lore murmurs.

"I’m proud of David," Mom giggles. "Anyway, I’ll prepare a feast tonight. Stay a little longer. Both of you can wake up early for school tomorrow." Then she leaves.

Back on the TV, David smiles.

"Thank you to those who supported us even during the crisis. I’d also like to thank my baby sister—who’s not a baby anymore—and my future brother-in-law. Bro! I’ll force you to marry her."

Lore, midway through his second glass of warm water, spits it out and starts coughing.

"Wow," I say dryly. "Am I that ugly that I’m not wanted?"

"No. You’re not that ugly," Lore says, wiping his mouth. "It’s just... I’m into older women."

"Oh, I see." I nod thoughtfully. "The ones who just crawled out of their graves?"

"Yeah. Probably."

I roll my eyes. "Anyway, I already finished your homework. You can review it if you want."

"Oh, that’s so sweet." He clutches his chest dramatically. "You didn’t have to. Just make sure everything’s correct."

I grunt, roll my eyes again, and start packing up.

"Go back to your room," he says. "We couldn’t use the family room because you were knocked out for more than twelve hours."

I head to my room and organize the things I need to bring back to our apartment. I pick up my Polaroid and smile at the stolen photos—Sky, my brother Damon staring at my sister-in-law like a lovesick teenager, the twins snuggled against a sleeping Logan.

And then Lore.

Mouth wide open. Completely unflattering.

I slip the photo into my luggage.

"Knock! Knock!" Lore says—while knocking.

"What?" I ask.

"I have a question."

"Yeah?" I glance at him.

"Do you design for parties or whatnots?"

"Hmm... I can. I mean, I could. I help organize my nieces’ and nephews’ parties."

"Then we need to work on Deanne and Caine’s wedding. Sophia just got married two days ago."

"Ohh." I gape. "Really?"

He nods, still yawning.

"I’ll eat and plan it well," he says, turning away.

"Lore, wait." I sigh.

He stops and turns back.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"What?" He tilts his head.

"Can you pretend to be my boyfriend whenever we’re on campus—or whenever Paul’s nearby?"

His lips curl upward.

"A dominant, boyfriend-beater girlfriend?" He grins. "I like that idea." He laughs. "I love seeing Paul’s scared face."

"Perfect."

–Lore–

I like that stupid grin on her face.

I splashed cold water onto my own, the chill biting into my skin as I stared at my reflection, trying to rinse her out of my head. Still, my thoughts kept circling back to her—unwanted, persistent.

No. I can’t fall in love with my client.

I’m not that stupid.

She’s an heiress. I’m just an employee of her sister-in-law. A tool. A shield. Nothing more.

And there’s guilt too—quiet but heavy. Lying straight to her face. Letting her believe Livana is dead while she misses her every damn day. That one sticks.

I took a warm bath, steam fogging the glass, heat easing the tension from my shoulders. I scrubbed until my skin tingled, grounding myself, making sure I’d be present for David’s dinner party. Appearances matter.

When I went downstairs, Alyssa handed me a bowl of freshly cut fruits. Cold. Sweet-smelling. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"Eat that first. Mom said so."

She turned back to the kitchen, already squirming with excitement.

"Chef Wally!"

"Aly!" Chef Wally’s cheerful voice boomed, followed by the sound of footsteps and laughter as they hugged.

"Yay! More delicious food!"

"I’m going to teach you," he said enthusiastically.

I yawned.

"Lore, wanna join us?"

"Nah," I waved him off. "Take your time. Just make sure you serve me the best meal."

Alyssa snorted.

"Chef, please don’t make me eat the food he will make. I don’t want to die early."

Wally laughed as Alyssa reached for her slippers, clearly intending to throw one at me. I escaped before she could aim properly and headed into the grand room where guests usually stayed.

I turned on the television and sank into the couch. The glow of the screen washed over the room.

Bad timing.

Our secret base—plastered all over the news. Headlines screaming spies in the country.

Idiots.

We’re not spies. We’re businesspeople.

Livana’s business? Assassins for hire—wrapped neatly in legitimate investments. A vast network of pawns, each one profitable, each one loyal.

Tech companies. Gadgets. Security systems.

And beneath it all—Braxton’s old tobacco and wine empire.

Crazy rich doesn’t even begin to cover it.

The media lied, as usual. The story behind that lair? Completely fabricated. But that’s how it works—truth bends easier than facts.

My phone vibrated.

I glanced down and frowned at the bedazzled case Alyssa customized. Glitter. Stones. Crime against minimalism.

...But I was getting used to it.

I checked Logan’s status. Pacific region. Preparing to dive. A submarine already in position.

We have a lair down there—underground, underwater, fully networked. I ran through the connections mentally, checking lines, imagining signal routes. Logan would scuba dive with other agents.

I missed that. The silence underwater. The pressure. The weightless calm.

I trained when I was a kid, but I was never an expert. Maybe this coming summer... a family trip?

Would Livana finally show herself? Alive?

But if she did, peace would disappear instantly.

"Lore."

Old man Wilbert approached, leaning on his cane.

"Oh, hey, Gramps."

I offered him some fruit. He took it using those tiny, adorable toothpicks.

"I’ve been watching you train my granddaughter," he said. "I like it. She used to give up easily—pain, effort, discipline. Her father spoiled her too much. That’s when it stopped."

"I think she only listens to her sister-in-law."

"Yes..." He sighed deeply. "Too bad she was taken from us so early. If she had lived, I’d have spoiled her rotten." His eyes softened. "Alyssa reminds me of her mother. The charisma. The mind. Almost a perfect replica... yet not the same."

Ironic.

The butler approached, bending close.

"Dela Vega is here. Insisting on a visit."

Wilbert’s expression darkened.

"Let them."

Dela Vega. That must be Tyrona—the new boss. First woman to take over that family’s dirty empire.

Late proposal? Suspicious.

Moments later, I heard her heels—sharp clicks echoing across marble. I turned as Tyrona entered, smiling brightly.

"Grandpa!" she chirped.

He nodded coolly.

She turned to me. "And who might you be?"

"Oh," I grinned, "I’m Alyssa’s boy toy."

She laughed—rich, spoiled, fake. I already hated her.

"Aly!" Tyrona called. "I brought gifts!"

Perfect timing.

The door opened—Damon walked in holding Sky. The moment Sky saw me, he shrieked.

"Loo!" He clapped, squealing.

I put the fruit aside and stood—but Tyrona’s heels clicked faster toward Damon.

"What are you doing here?" Damon asked coldly.

"To congratulate you and your company." She smiled sweetly, leaning closer. Her head tilted, revealing a red lipstick smear on his neck—and a little on his lips. "Oh. You brought your son to your mistress."

"None of your business," Damon snapped.

I finally scooped Sky up and sat with him on the sofa. He grinned up at Grandpa, flashing his tiny teeth, then immediately started digging into my fruit bowl.

I watched Damon and Tyrona closely.

"It’ll be my business soon," she said, wiping his neck with a handkerchief. "You’ll owe me."

Damon’s fist clenched—white-knuckled.

Ah.

He’s ready to kill her.

But Livana must’ve given him very specific instructions.

And knowing her?

She always plans ten steps ahead.