“Mrs. Donovan?” A tall man in a long white coat asks, reading the name from a stack of document in his hands.

“That’d be me,” Liam’s mom says, going up to her feet so fast you’d say she’s still in her twenties. Both Liam and I follow suit, eager to hear whatever the doctor has to say. “Any news?”

“Yes,” the doctor says with a sigh and, for a moment, I ready myself for the bad news. But then he cracks a semi-serious smile and the lines in his face soften. “Mr. Donovan is going to be okay. We’ll still have to run some tests, just for precaution, but this wasn’t a life-or-death situation. You acted fast, Mrs. Donovan, and you got him here in time.”

“Thank God,” she exhales, one hand over her heart, and I breathe out in relief as well, feeling as if a heavy weight had just been lifted off my shoulders. Even though I barely know the Donovan family, I simply couldn’t help but empathize with the darkness of the whole situation.

“Well, he’s going to have to make a few adjustments to his diet, and some physical exercise will help as well. But if he’s willing to make these changes, I believe Mr. Donovan’s heart won’t trouble him that much for the rest of his life.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Liam says and, even though his voice is steady and poised as always, I can notice a slight tone of relief in his words. “Do you think we can go and see him?”

“Absolutely,” the doctor (Dr. Anderson, according to the name tag hanging from the breast-pocket of his coat) nods, waving with his arm toward the long corridor to his right, the one leading to the room where Liam’s father is. “He’s in room 213. But make it quick, please. Mr. Donovan needs some rest today.”

“Will do,” Liam replies, and then he turns on his heels and starts marching down the corridor, his mother and I trailing after him. Stopping in front of the room with the 213 number plaque, Liam grabs at the handle and turns it, pushing the door open and stepping inside carefully.

The room is small, but there’s a certain modern sleekness to the place. More than looking like an hospital room, it reminds me of an hotel room. But what was I expecting? The Donovans are a wealthy family, and I should’ve known that they wouldn’t care about cutting costs when it comes to the health of their loved ones.

Liam’s father is sitting on his bed, the sheets up to his waist, and his whole face lights up with a smile as he sees his son and wife come in. Even though he’s much older than Liam, there’s a kind of charming gruffness to the way the years have carved up the lines in his face. And his eyes… They’re exactly like Liam’s - lively and smart, they tell of an hunger for life that knows no boundaries.

“There ya are,” he says, opening his arms as Liam walks up to him. Doing it carefully, Liam hugs his father and then steps to the side, giving his place to his mother. “And you too,” he continues, smiling as he kisses her. “And who’s this lovely lady? I hope she isn’t my long lost daughter,” he says with a laugh, groaning as he shifts his sitting position on the bed.

“Be nice,” Mrs. Donovan warns him with a smile, playfully punching him in the arm.

“This is Cara, Dad,” Liam introduces me, and I take a few steps toward the bed. I offer my hand to Liam’s father and he grabs it heartily, looking at me with an expression of surprise.

“Cara… That’s a beautiful name. Short for…?”

“Caralyn,” I reply, something about him putting me immediately at ease. Even though I’ve never met him before, it feels like I’m face-to-face with an older and wiser Liam.

“Does this mean my lovely wife won’t be the only Mrs. Donovan anymore?” He asks me, his smart eyes then darting toward Liam. I know it doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes type to figure out the reason why I’m inside this room with the Donovan’s, but still… Liam’s father saw it in just a few seconds.

“Come on, Dad,” Liam laughs, “you should worry about eating less steaks than about me getting a girlfriend.” Everyone in the room laughs at Liam’s joke (including me) but, at the same time, I feel an iron knot growing inside my stomach. Do you know when people feel butterflies inside their stomachs? It’s exactly the same except, instead of butterflies, I’m talking about rusty iron nails.

“What? I’m just an old man that wants to see his grandchildren running around,” Mr. Donovan continues happily, jabbing at Liam with the kind of ease that speaks of a close relationship.

“Ah, come on, Dad,” Liam laughs again, running one hand through his hair.

“Don’t mind him, Cara,” Mr. Donovan tells me softly, holding my hand and looking straight into my eyes. “He might be a tough nut to crack, but he’s a good man deep down.”

“I know,” I tell him with a whisper, my heart tightening up inside my chest.

Being here with Liam and his parents, acting as if I’m his girlfriend, pretending that there’s going to be a future for the two of us… It’s too much for me. And that’s because my job fooled me: this time I’m not going after an asshole - I’m going after the most upstanding man I’ve ever met.

And, hearing the words Mrs. Donovan on Liam’s dad’s mouth… It made me realize that I wouldn’t mind being called that. No, not all.

Except I’m a total fraud. This whole relationship was built on a string of well-calculated lies, and Liam and his parents have no idea about who the real Cara is and what she does for a living.

And once the truth gets out…

It’ll be the end of this.