I flung my hands up.
"So your mother is basically going to be policing our sex life?"
Lance's lips twitched with a barely suppressed smile.
"Essentially."
I buried my face in my hands again.
"Putang ina," I muttered into my palms. ("Son of a bitch.")
Lance let out a low laugh.
"Don't worry. I'll behave."
I shot him a glare.
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Only because you're so dramatic," he teased.
I scowled.
"Rule number three," he continued, "you'll accompany me to any events, parties, business dinners, or family gatherings where my wife would be expected to appear."
I sighed.
"Fine. But I'm not pretending to be some demure society wife who keeps quiet and smiles all the time."
His grin widened.
"Good. I don't like demure women. I like women who can handle themselves."
"Rule number four," he said, sobering a little, "no falling in love."
My eyebrows shot up.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he said firmly. "This is strictly business. No feelings. No attachments. The contract ends in a year. We walk away clean."
I stared at him.
"Why do you sound like you've done this before?"
Lance gave me a bland look.
"Because I have."
My jaw dropped.
"Oh my God. How many fake wives have you had?"
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
"Don't look so scandalized. I've never actually gone through with the marriage part. You'll be the first."
"Comforting," I said drily.
He tilted his head.
"I'm being honest with you. I've come close a few times, but I always backed out. This time, I'm out of time."
I folded my arms across my chest.
"Why me, Lance? Out of everyone in the entire Philippines, why pick me for this insane plan?"
He studied me for a long moment, dark eyes thoughtful.
"Because you're the only woman I've met in years who doesn't seem impressed by my money."
I blinked.
"That's it?!"
He shrugged.
"That's a rare quality. And it makes you perfect for this job."
My chest tightened.
"I'm not a job," I said softly.
He looked faintly regretful.
"I know," he said. "But right now, you need help. And I need a wife. It's mutually beneficial."
I let out a shaky breath.
"Fine. What else?"
"Last rule," he said. "If anyone ever asks, this marriage is real. No hesitations, no slip-ups. You'll act like my wife in every way that matters."
I swallowed hard.
"And after a year… we just pretend it never happened?"
"Yes," he said. "I'll file for annulment. We'll part ways, no strings attached."
I slumped back in my chair.
My entire body felt heavy, like I'd run a marathon.
I'm going to marry a stranger tonight. And share a bedroom with him. And pretend we're in love.
It sounded so ridiculous, I wanted to laugh.
But I couldn't.
Because this was my life now.
Lance stood and reached for his phone.
"I'll have Marco bring the car around. We're leaving for the house in fifteen minutes."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Lance… I need to stop by my place first. I want my things. My documents. My jewelry. Everything that's mine."
His brow furrowed.
"Are you sure that's wise?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "It's my stuff. And I'm not leaving it behind."
Lance hesitated, then nodded.
"Alright. But I'm coming with you."
I blinked.
"Why?"
"Because I don't trust your ex not to cause trouble. And you're my wife now. It's my job to protect you."
My chest squeezed painfully at the word wife.
This was all happening so fast.
He hit the intercom button again.
"Marco, prepare the car. We're making a stop in Quezon City first."
"Yes, sir," came Marco's voice.
Lance turned back to me, his dark eyes intense.
"Ready?" he asked.
I swallowed hard, feeling my entire world spinning out of control.
"No," I whispered. "But let's go anyway."
The ride to Quezon City felt like an eternity.
I sat stiffly in the backseat of the Range Rover, staring blankly out the window as neon lights and rain-slicked streets streamed past.
My mind spun in a thousand directions.
I just signed a marriage contract with a billionaire.
Tonight, I'm moving into his mansion.
And now I'm about to face Jules and Bianca again.
My stomach twisted so hard, I thought I might be sick.
Lance sat beside me, quietly tapping at his phone.
He barely glanced my way, his face an unreadable mask.
But occasionally, he'd slide me a quick look out of the corner of his eye, as if checking to see whether I was about to bolt.
Marco drove in silence, his eyes locked on the road ahead.
As we crossed into Quezon City, I recognized the battered buildings and noisy streets of my old neighborhood.
Cheap eateries. Sari-sari stores (tiny corner shops). Tricycles weaving between cars.
It was like stepping back into my real life from some surreal movie set.
Lance's mansion felt a million miles away from this place.
The rain was coming down harder when we finally pulled up outside my apartment building.
I stared at the peach-colored concrete walls, streaked with grime.
My heart pounded.
"I can go in alone," I muttered, gripping my bag.
Lance shot me a sharp look.
"No. I'm coming with you."
Marco jumped out first, opening Lance's door.
Rain spattered off the roof as Lance stepped onto the wet pavement, his leather shoes splashing in puddles.
I climbed out after him, clutching my bag against my chest.
Marco hovered protectively nearby, scanning the surroundings.
I hesitated at the front door of the building.
"Maybe they're not home…" I murmured.
Lance tilted his head.
"Want to bet?"
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
I followed him, my shoes squeaking on the cracked tiles.
The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, buzzing faintly.
My apartment door was halfway down the hall.
From inside, I could hear laughter.
My chest clenched.
They're still here.
I stormed up to my door and started pounding with my fist.
"Jules! Open the door!"
A moment later, the door swung open.
Jules stood there, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. His hair was still slicked back from the wedding earlier, but he looked disheveled.
He scowled the moment he saw me.
"Oh my God. Won't you learn to leave us alone?" he snapped.
I pushed past him into the apartment.
"I'm not here to fight," I said, my voice trembling. "I just want my things."
Bianca appeared from the kitchen, clutching a plate of leftover wedding cake.
Her eyes widened when she saw me and then widened even more when she noticed Lance stepping in behind me.
Jules glanced over his shoulder.
His face drained of color.
"Who the fuck is this?" he demanded, pointing at Lance.
Lance stared Jules down, his voice icy.
"I'm the man who saved Maya's life today," he said. "And the man who's now her husband."
Jules sputtered.
"Her what?!"
Bianca's mouth dropped open.
"You… you married someone else today?" she squeaked.
I glared at her.
"Funny coming from you, Bianca. You married my fiancé this morning!"
Bianca flushed scarlet.
Jules's jaw clenched.
"You need to get out of here, Maya," he growled. "This is my house now."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"Your house? I paid every single rent check in this place, Jules!"
"But the lease is in my name," he shot back. "Legally, you have no right to be here."
My eyes stung with angry tears.
"You lying bastard," I whispered. "I gave you everything. My love. My money. Four fucking years of my life!"
Jules crossed his arms.
"Spare me the drama, Maya. It's over. Move on."
Lance stepped closer, his voice dangerously calm.
"She's not leaving until she gets everything that belongs to her."