The moment Lance closed the door behind him, the silence in the giant bedroom wrapped around me like a thick blanket.
I sat there on the edge of the massive bed, staring at my reflection in the sleek black TV screen across the room.
My hair was a tangled mess, my eyes swollen and red. My blouse was still damp from the rain, sticking uncomfortably to my skin.
I looked like a woman who'd been dragged through hell.
Slowly, I dropped my bag on the plush carpet.
I stood and wandered around the room, running my fingers over surfaces that gleamed like they'd been cleaned a hundred times that day.
Everything smelled faintly floral, mixed with something expensive I couldn't identify, maybe those fancy reed diffusers rich people loved.
I paused in front of the walk-in closet and pushed the door open.
My breath caught.
Inside, hangers were already lined up, waiting for clothes I didn't own. Shelves were empty but smelled of cedar wood. Soft yellow lights glowed from hidden fixtures in the ceiling.
All of this is mine now… at least for a year.
I shut the closet door and moved toward the vanity table.
A single white rose sat in a crystal vase on the counter.
I picked it up and stared at the perfect petals, feeling the soft brush against my fingertips.
How did my life become this?
A sudden wave of exhaustion slammed into me.
I staggered back to the bed and flopped down on top of the covers, still fully clothed.
I closed my eyes, willing my racing heart to slow down.
But as soon as I lay still, the images came flooding back.
• Jules grabbing me and shoving me out of my own apartment.
• Bianca crying and saying she was pregnant.
• Lance offering me two million pesos like it was pocket change.
Tears welled up again, stinging my eyes.
I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow.
What have I done?
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
I didn't know anymore.
Eventually, I forced myself to sit up and wipe my face.
I had to get cleaned up.
I stumbled into the bathroom and stopped dead in the doorway.
It was bigger than my entire old living room.
White marble countertops. A deep soaking tub under a sparkling chandelier. A separate glass shower with sleek chrome fixtures.
Fluffy towels were neatly stacked on shelves. Tiny bottles of expensive-looking shampoo and lotion lined the sink.
I stared at it all, speechless.
A chandelier. In the bathroom.
A humorless laugh escaped my throat.
"This is insane," I muttered.
But it felt good to be laughing, even if it was through tears.
I stripped off my wet clothes and stepped into the steaming shower.
Warm water pounded over my skin, washing away the grime of the day.
As I lathered my hair with a shampoo that smelled like jasmine, I tried to remind myself:
This is temporary. One year. Then it's over.
But even as I told myself that, fear twisted in my gut.
Because nothing felt temporary anymore.
When I finally stepped out of the shower, I wrapped myself in one of the thick towels and stared at my reflection in the mirror.
I barely recognized myself.
My hair was wet and sleek, hanging down my back. My eyes looked huge and haunted.
I look like a stranger.
A soft knock startled me out of my thoughts.
I yelped, clutching the towel tighter around me.
"Yes?" I called out.
The door opened just a few inches, and a soft female voice spoke from the other side.
"Ma'am, may I come in? I brought your things."
("Ma'am, may I come in? I brought your things.")
I pulled the towel tighter around me and stepped out of the bathroom.
A young woman in a navy housemaid uniform entered, balancing a folded pile of my old clothes and a small cardboard box.
She gave me a shy smile.
"Mr. Villanueva asked me to bring these up. And… these are some toiletries you might need."
She set the box gently on the vanity.
I blinked at her.
"You… know who I am?"
She nodded, her eyes wide.
"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Villanueva said you're his wife now."
A sharp pang shot through my chest.
His wife.
I forced a small smile.
"Thank you… what's your name?"
"Clarisse, ma'am."
She hesitated.
"If you need anything, please press the button beside the bed. Someone will come right away."
I nodded numbly.
Clarisse gave me one more shy smile and quietly slipped out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind her.
I stared at the cardboard box she'd left.
Inside, I found a few familiar things from my old apartment:
My hairbrush, a cheap bottle of drugstore perfume, a small pouch of makeup, a packet of instant noodles.
I let out a strangled laugh, tears blurring my vision again.
Two million pesos. And I'm still clinging to Lucky Me Pancit Canton.
I set the box aside and pulled on an oversized T-shirt and shorts.
Then I crawled into the king-sized bed and curled up under the blanket, hugging my stuffed turtle to my chest.
I lay awake for a long time, staring at the intricate shadows cast by the chandelier on the ceiling.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, soft and steady.
Tomorrow, I'll have to pretend to be someone's wife.
And I have no idea how I'm going to survive it.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged me under.
I woke up the next morning with sunlight streaming through gauzy curtains.
For a brief, blissful moment, I didn't remember where I was.
I stretched under the soft blanket, feeling crisp, expensive sheets sliding over my skin.
Then reality slammed into me like a jeepney going full speed.
I'm in Lance Villanueva's mansion.
Because I agreed to a fake marriage.
I let out a groan and flopped face-down into the pillow.
My eyes burned from all the crying I'd done the night before.
But there was no time to wallow.
I forced myself out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom.
Inside, I found a surprise waiting for me on the counter:
A fresh toothbrush. New bottles of facial wash, lotion, and perfume.
And a neat little envelope with my name printed in elegant cursive.
I tore it open with trembling fingers.
Inside was a single sheet of thick cream paper:
Good morning, Mrs. Villanueva.
Clarisse will help you get ready. We have an appointment with my mother at noon.
P.S. Don't worry about clothes. Everything has been handled.
Lance…
I read it three times, blinking.
Appointment with his mother?
My stomach twisted.
Oh God. What have I signed up for?
I took a deep breath, splashed cold water on my face, and tried to gather my scattered wits.
Then I pulled on my crumpled T-shirt and shorts and cracked open the bedroom door.
Clarisse was waiting outside with a shy smile.
"Good morning, ma'am."
"Morning," I mumbled, barely awake. "Please… don't call me ma'am."
Clarisse giggled.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. Mr. Villanueva's orders."
I groaned. Of course.
Clarisse led me down a gleaming hallway that smelled like polished wood and fresh flowers.
She opened a door at the end of the corridor, revealing a giant walk-in closet filled with rows of clothes.
My mouth fell open.
Inside were dresses, blouses, skirts, and slacks, dozens of them in soft pastel shades, elegant blacks, and crisp whites.
Shelves held high heels, flats, and delicate handbags.
Jewelry glinted under soft lights.
I gaped at the sight.
Clarisse clasped her hands together.
"Sir said to let you choose anything you want. Everything is yours now."
My throat felt tight.
"All of this… for me?"