It started with a phone call that made your stomach drop.

“Y/N,” Blair said, voice sharp but panicked. “I need you. Now.”

You arrived at the Waldorf penthouse to find her pacing like a caged lion, perfectly dressed, but eyes frantic.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, bracing yourself.

Blair exhaled. “My father’s campaign. Someone leaked photos—photos implying I’m… involved in a scandal. Public relations nightmare. And if anyone asks, I need a story. Something believable.”

You blinked. “You want me… to pretend to be your—”

“Yes. Boyfriend. Fake. Official. Credible.” Her tone left no room for negotiation. “You and I. Together. For the press, for the cameras… for my father’s reputation.”

You hesitated. But Blair’s stare was that of someone used to getting exactly what she wanted.

“Fine,” you said, sighing. “Let’s protect the Upper East Side, shall we?”

The next day was a whirlwind.

Flashes of cameras, reporters asking questions, social media buzzing. You held her hand like you belonged there, smiled for the cameras, and nodded at every fake confession.

Serena was there too, watching from a distance. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw you and Blair walking side by side, lips almost brushing, completely convincing.

Later, Serena cornered you by the rooftop garden. “You’re really doing this?” she asked, disbelief in her voice.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you admitted. “Blair asked, I agreed. It’s for her reputation.”

She smirked. “Well… you make a convincing couple.”

You frowned. “Convincing? Serena, it’s fake. Nothing more.”

She tilted her head, teasing. “That’s what everyone said in Manhattan before something real started happening.”