Contract Marriage with the Broken Billionaire

White ceiling, bluethemed room. I blink a couple of times.

"I am alive." I murmur to myself.

The last thing I remember is falling into the middle of the road after a car hit me. I thought that was the end of me and my miserable pathetic life, but it seems my time is not up yet! I don't know whether to be happy about that or not, though. Sigh!

Wait. where am I?

This sure is not a hospital bed. This heavyduty mattress, how many inches is it anyway? And this expensive white bed.. I think it's what they call king or queen size? Did I wake up in paradise or am I in the afterlife?

My head hurts, but I pull myself up and sit up, leaning backwards to support my bandaged head. I am glad I don't have fractured bones, but a side of my hip hurts, alongside my bandaged head and arm.

The door opens, which is quite a distance from the bed because this room is enough to accommodate five more beds of the same size. A man saunters in. Adorable height, medium size body and finest jaws. This is a bit confusing now.

If I got into an accident, wasn't I supposed to wake up in a hospital or in my house? Who is this, cold rich guy? His eyes are cold with a look that can make anybody bow to his dominant demeanor. I bet his voice would hold such a demeanor as well. His complex figure and composure exude confidence and authority.

Where am I again?

"Who are you?" I ask, as he walks to stand beside me, giving me the pleasure and honor to take in his sweet pheromones. I have never smelled something as sweet as this, and that is why the butterflies in my stomach are surprised.

"Your husband!" His voice is as I expected icy, deep, and sweet.

I swallow hard. First, I have never had a boyfriend, let alone a husband. Second, even if I was to be married, it would have not been to this tycoon god who is stinking like the most purest sin. I can not fit in his world, and he can't stoop so low to my own. We are like water and paraffin, or two parallel roads, or better yet, heaven and earth. Thanks to that expensive joke he just pulled there, I am smiling bitterly. My husband my left foot!

"How long have I been dead?" I ask, looking into his dark brown eyes. There is this deep and dark sheer in them, making him appear dangerously smoky.

"What?"

Oh, his voice, ooh!

"Yeah! If I am married, that means I am in the afterlife. I did not have a boyfriend, not to talk of being married before I got into that accident." I say, looking at this beautiful but confusing stranger. How can he say I am his wife?

"I am not a bad person. I just did what I had to do. What I felt was right." He speaks, his cold tone of voice as calm and soft as it can ever be, presumably, it can't go beyond that.

"What do you mean?" I ask, and he pulls out an envelope from the drawer beside the bed and hands it to me. "What's in it?" I ask, without showing any interest in accepting it. These rich people are annoyingly weird. Very, annoyingly weird!

"Check it."

I kick the blue duvet aside and get out of the comfortable bed, grabbing the envelope from him and slightly limping to the table near the window.

I empty the contents of the envelope on the table, and the first thing that catches my attention makes my heart skip several beats.

My mother's ID?

What is happening here? Did something bad happen to my mother?

"Why do you have my mother's ID? Where is she? Is she alright?" I rant nonstop to the stranger. My heart feels so heavy all of a sudden, like a bomb is about to explode. "Tell me she is okay."

"Relax! Your mother is perfectly fine. I just kept that as part of the agreement until you wake up, so that I can confirm that she really is your mother." A calming explanation, but more confusing.

This woman has made me see hell and live on its shores since birth. Anything and everything about her makes my spine cold.

"She is my mother." The shock on his face, huh? I smell a rat here!

What just happened in the few hours I was unconscious? I am starting to tremble, my bones growing weak.

Oh, Man! I hope she didn't screw you too! It would be such a pity! Such...a... pity!

"Why? What did she do? And why am I here? Who are you and what is this place?" I query.

"Everything is well explained in that contract."

"Cont... what?"

"Please, read it and understand every clause in it. It is important. Your...mother signed her part. But it's entirely your decision to agree to sign yours."

Whoa! I have a very bad feeling. What did you do this time, mother? Why do I feel hurt already even without knowing what this damn contract is all about?

"It's a contract stating that you will be officially my wife for five months. I am paying you a hundred million for the five months you will stay with me."

Period! Disgustingly simple! pathetic madness!

The sky must be turning red for the very first time since its creation, that is why even the aura I am breathing right now is not the usual oxygen. This one is suffocating! It's choking me! I can't breathe at all!

Someone bring me back to earth, because I doubt it's where all this nonsense is happening!

"Who between you two came up with this madness?" I ask, my eyes maintaining their stare at him, and him being as icy as he looks. He doesn't blink still.

"I did."

I sigh out a relief!

Well, at least it wasn't my crazy impossible mother. Now I feel relieved, and the air is a bit fresh again. But did she have to agree? That alone hurts, but it's less painful than...

"Your mother had a different kind of deal first." Shit! No, double that shit!

"What did she propose?" I shoot at him.

"Are you sure you want...."

"Yes." I cut him off. "What the heck did my mother propose?"

"A million for your life. She wanted me to take you as whatever I wanted, for just a million!"

Everything stands still, and I forget how to breathe for a minute. What..the..hell?

Anything? For a mere million?

One drop. Two drops. Three drops. I have two streams of tears flowing down my two chubby cheeks. What's that again? I had a feeling this was going to hurt, but I didn't know it would be this much.

I have gone through so much pain the pain of her hatred, the pain of her insults, the pain of her slaps, the pain of always being on the losing end. Everything has been painful for me in general, but this pain surpasses every other pain I have felt before. All of my pains mixed together can not compare to this one.

My mother sold me off to a stranger? And just for a mere one fucking million? She was busy trading me off like a mere garbage while I was lying unconscious on the hospital bed? I am sure she didn't even care to find out who this man is! I was lying unconscious and all she was thinking about was how to get rid of me?

What did I ever do to this woman?

All she has ever given me are nothing but pain after pain, but trading me off like a stinking garbage is the last straw!

She doesn't want me? She wants me out of her life? I am also freaking tired of her. I am done hoping and wishing that she will ever change. I am fucking done trying to be a good daughter that I will never be to her.

This is the highlight of all your hatred towards me mother! I am so done crying for you. I am done caring for you. Today, you have given me enough reason to do what's best for you and me.

This is for the greater good!

I wipe away the tears, and look at this stranger. I don't think I have words for him right now. What my mother has done is the only thing ringing in my head, and it's ringing so loud.

I take the pen from his shirt, and he is shocked at that, but I don't care. I open the contract, but he grabs my hand.

"Hey! If you don't want to go through with it, I won't force you. You still have the chance to back down. I will pay your mother what she asked so she won't bother you." He speaks.

"Don't they say that parents, especially mothers, always know what is best for their children? This is what my mother thinks is best for me. I am an adult, and I have no objections whatsoever. I am righting her decision. I want this!"

"You are angry."

"I am sober. I want this, so let me!" He let go of my hand unwillingly, and I sign on the spaces left for me.

I close the contract and put it back in the envelope, returning the pen where I took it from. I hand him the envelope.

"When can I get the first half?"

"By today evening." He says.

"Good. I will go see my mother the day after tomorrow. Is that alright?"

"Sure. No problem." He says.

"I need some rest."

"Go ahead. The doctor will be coming to check on your wound later on in the day."

I nod my head, and stroll to the bed, while he makes his way to the door.

"Wait, my husband." I call before he can walk out, and he turns around. "What should I call you?"

"Jerol O'Brian McCall, is my name. Call me Jerol from now on, Mrs McCall." I nod my head, and he walks out, closing the door behind him.

"Mrs McCall." I murmur to myself as I tuck myself under the blue duvet again.

Mrs McCall, it is, for five months!

It comes to a certain point in life when you are too intoxicated with everything. That point when you can't even recognize who or what you are anymore. That point where everything and everyone sucks. That time when you can't even explain when or how things got this far. That point where you are certain that things will never be like before again.

That is where I am right now, I, Tessa Angeline! Damn! It slipped my mind that I now have something I never had a surname! I'm now Tessa Angeline McCall!

I don't know what anyone in my shoes would choose to do in my situation, but I have chosen to end this toxic relationship between me and this woman who I call mother. She doesn't want me, and I don't need her either. It's not like any of us needed the other from the start anyway. Oh, wait, I know. She needed me to feed out her anger and frustrations on, and to be her breadwinner. But that is over now!

Call me bitchy. Call me stupid. Call me childish. Or an ungrateful witch like she calls me, anything, but I am so done with her. I coped with all her insults, I made peace with all her yelling, scolding and unreasonable beatings all my life. I understood all her shortcomings as a mother, because I knew nobody is perfect. But she never cared from the beginning.

I wasn't looking for perfection in her, no. I just wanted her to treat me like her own child. Like her only child that I am. But for twenty years now, I am far from earning her affection as her daughter. I have failed to be the daughter she probably wanted. Not only doesn't she care about me, but she despises me. I am like a devil to her. Why that is, I don't know and I don't care anymore. I am done!

I'm after nothing now but my own peace, and my peace is being as far away from her as possible. I am closing this chapter with her, and starting another one as Jerol's wife, thanks to my so thoughtful mother.

This thing she did to me just now surpasses every other crazy thing she has ever done, and I can't forgive her for this. I will always remember her with this last act of hers. After these five months, I will start another chapter all alone. At least, I will not need to be a hawker anymore. I will be filthy rich then, and I will have a comfortable and happy life.

"Shall we?" My husband asks, coming from the bathroom, dazzling like a diamond in his expensive threepiece navy blue suit.

If there is something I have noticed for these past two days I have been with him, it is that he is a troubled soul. I'm not a physician, but I have sailed in this boat all my life. I would recognize one right away when I spot it. It's there in his eyes.

He is doing his best at hiding it, but it's evident anyways. If not so, then he must be a temperamental devil. I don't know which is which, but I am a temporary wife after all, I shouldn't overstep the boundaries. I should mind my own business and not meddle in his. I will deal with my problems, and him his demons. As long as we don't crush, I am okay.

"Do you really have to come?" I ask him, just to make sure because I don't see the point of him accompanying me to my mother's house. That place is not for rich tycoons like him.

"I need to. You are my wife, remember? I have to accompany you everywhere, and the vice versa applies too."

"Why such charades? Trying to make someone jealous?" I ask, but I regret opening my mouth because of the outburst I receive as a response.

"Can you stop asking silly questions? We are wasting time unnecessarily. Let's go."

Whoa! What a temper! I said it. Maybe this is why women can't stay by his side, and he has to result in buying himself a fake one.

I grab the envelope on the bed and walk out without saying a word, but he catches up with me just two stairs away downstairs. He wraps his hand around my waist, and I don't dare say a thing.

We walk past the huge sitting room which equals a hall, with servants doing one or two things here and there. I haven't had my time to explore this house, one, because I was on bed rest, but I am glad since I can now walk slowly with ease. In two or three days, I will have my bandages removed, and I will be perfectly okay. The second reason is that I know this is temporary. I don't want to make memories here, or get attached to things around here.

Walking out of the door, he guides me and we walk to the black limousine waiting for us near the gate. He holds the door still for me to get in, and after slamming it shut after making sure I have settled in, he walks to the other side and settles in beside me.

Why the trouble, huh? He should have told to me to make some space for him instead of going through all that unnecessary trouble. All the same, the black tilted mirror separating us from the driver goes up, meaning it is just me and my husband at the back of this comfortable limousine. The rich really have a different lifestyle. Even the air they breathe is different from what people like us breathe.

The drive is silent. We are both lost in our own thoughts, me looking at the envelope I am carrying and thinking of how my mother is going to react, and this husband of mine here staring at nothing but space.

I steal a glance at him through the corner of my eyes.

Aside from his cold demeanor and notsobearable temper, he is the epitome of beauty. These cold bottomless orbs, I wonder what they would look like brimming with joy. They sure must be the most beautiful ones. These lips, I would love to see what form they take when they curve up in a smile, something I haven't seen in him. I doubt the word smile even exists in his dictionary.

"We are here, I suppose." He says, snapping me out of my short secret exploration of him. I look at how he opens the door on his side, and I do the same to mine. When did I ever ride in a private car? Tsk!

Stepping out, he walks to my side, locking my hand in his again, and we walk side by side towards the house.

As always, there are always people indoors every single time of the day. Seeing such an expensive car might have demonically called the attention of everyone, because now everybody is out, looking at us in bewilderment like we are aliens. I can see some murmuring to each other, and others their jaws are rolling on the sandy ground, their mouths will probably never be able to close again.

I can understand their shock and dismay, I myself feel like this is a dream, you know. I lost my shop and everything that kept me sane just two days ago. I was left with nothing. I almost lost my life too. But now, I am a totally different person.

Apart from having this rich tycoon as my husband, I have a whole fifty million lying in my bank. I have been checking through my phone almost every one hour since Jerol transferred the cash to my account, just to make sure it's still there. The anxiety it's giving me though, lol! I still can't believe it. Life is surely a total turn of events. Today you are poor, tomorrow you might wake up rich. Don't call it a mockery or an expensive joke. I am a walking testimony.

Don't criticize people because of who they are today.

I knock lightly on what used to be my house, and wait for the owner to open. This isn't my house anymore. This is the last time I am setting my feet in it. This house and everything in it, we are paying ways today. Funny how I don't feel any emotion even after the decision I have made. It's like I never belonged here, presumably because my existence was never valued at all. I will never miss this misery of a home.

I push the door slowly, since no one seems to bother to get it.

I hope she was decent enough not to keep a man in this house up to this hour, because Jerol notified her that we will be coming today. The embarrassment will be too much.

I open the door, and since Jerol does not show any sign of waiting for me outside, we walk in together, to the suffocating scene of my mother chewing a man's lips on the pathetic loose and torn couch. It's even producing some screeching sounds as her butt is grinding the man's thighs. Oh, well, I guess I was too late to make a wish.

Isn't this one of the uses of a bedroom which is just two strands away from where they are fornicating at? Jeez! I mean, gosh!

She stops, after noticing our arrival, and smiles at Jerol as she hovers off the man, straightening her dress. The word shame has never been in her vocabulary ever.

It's said that you should not judge a book by its cover, and I believe in that saying. Fuck the one that says that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I have nothing in common with this woman. I am nothing like her, and I will never be.

"Hi, soninlaw! I hope you brought good news. Have a seat please." She opens her stinky mouth.

See her hatred? She doesn't care about me. She does not even care to hide it. No greetings, no welcome, no how have you been, no nothing! What a great mother, right?

"Nobody is sitting down!" I burst out, because I can sense Jerol's discomfort, and also because I don't intend to stay here for more than ten minutes. I hate the choking stinking smell of immorality in this room. "I just came down here to give you your hardearned share of the deal, and ask you just one thing." She moves her gaze to me, and I look her in the eyes. I have never confronted her before.

Never have I ever questioned her. Never did I dare talk back at her neither raise my voice at her. Despite all the wrongs she did to me, I was always a respectful child. Honor thy mother and father, right, they say? I followed that to the letter, but it all ends now, because life has taught me that respect is earned, and if you can not respect yourself, then no one ever will respect you. This woman here has never even tried to earn that respect. How can she, if she doesn't even respect herself?

"I hope you were not greedy enough to take out even a single cent from it, Angeline. I hope you brought the full amount that we agreed upon." She fires.

"First tell me, mother. What do you deserve? What do you think you deserve for being a parent, a mother to be precise, huh? An award?"

"Watch your tongue, young lady! Just because your husband is here with you does not give you the right to disrespect me. I am still your mother!"

Mother my foot! If only she knows the meaning of being just a parent not to talk of a mother!

"And that gave you the right to trade me off to a stranger like I am garbage, huh, mother? Selling me off like trash? You could have asked me to leave your house if you did not want me here anymore. Not like you ever wanted me anyway. But this, mother? Who gave you that right? What gave you the audacity to do this despicable act? Tell me? Is it money? Wasn't I the one who has been feeding you ever since..."

I close my eyes, waiting for the welllaunched slap to land on my cheek, but her hand must have been hooked somewhere in the air by some kind of magic, because her palm has not come into contact with my cheek. I open my eyes, to see Jerol holding my mother's hand. Oh, wow! Husband defending the wife? Saviour of the oppressed? I don't know which one to call him.

"You don't get to hurt my wife in my presence! It's unacceptable!"

Whoa!

His voice is calm, but cold and commanding. It holds such authority that nobody would want to dare defy or question, well, except this woman.

"Then tell your wife to show some respect to her mother! Don't tell me you like how she is talking to me? Or worse, do you believe what she is saying?" She finishes fuming, and Jerol lets go of her hand, his eyes on her. He might be thinking this is a live soap opera, little does he know, this has been my life.

"What I believe doesn't matter. As she said, I am a total stranger to both of you. Maybe you can clarify if there is any truth in what she is saying."

"I have nothing to clarify. This girl is a snake, a dog that bites the hand that feeds her. Don't say I didn't warn you. You better be strict with her if you don't want her disrespecting you like this." She never lacks something to bark about. Is making me look so bad her hobby?

"Until you can confidently prove that all she is saying are nothing but lies, don't waste your time telling me how to handle my wife."

"It's your call." She murmurs.

"You and I know that you don't deserve even a single cent from me, because you have done absolutely nothing for me aside from bringing me to this world. For that reason alone, I have tried to be as much generous as possible. Here," I hand her the envelope which she grabs roughly, "five hundred thousand, as compensation for giving birth to me and torturing me all my life."

"I knew it." She laughs sarcastically, then she turns cold at once. "Your greediness couldn't let you give me a considerable amount. You are such an ungrateful bitch! And you," she turns to Jerol who sneaked his hand around my waist without my knowledge until now. "Didn't you make a promise to me that I will get the full amount? What is this? What happened to your promise? All you wanted was for the deal to go through, huh? You fooled me!"

"Don't blame this on my husband. He made sure to give me your full amount, but it's only me who knows your worth. Thank God I didn't bring that envelope with nothing inside but your pathetic ID, because that is what you deserved absolutely nothing!"

She rolls her eyes, looking at the scumbag sitting comfortably on the sofa. If she thought she will automatically become rich by trading my life, she better think and think again. I can be fucking bitchy if I am pushed to the wall, which is exactly what this woman did.

"What exactly do you expect me to do with this change?"

The nerve of this arrogant unappreciative brat of a woman! Forgive me if I go overboard with words to this woman today. Did she say, change? She opens her mouth and regard a whopping five hundred thousand as mare change! May thunder fire her mouth! May she break her tongue if she ever repeats that! IMAO! Has selling her body earned her that much all her entire life?

I look at her, and for the first time in my entire life, I think I saw her eyes soften, but I can not fall for that deceit. She knows I have money now. She might try to deceive me with a few fake crocodile tears.

Before that happens, I pull my husband, and we walk out, his hand holding me by the waist.

I don't know what he makes out of all this insanity, but someday, if I will get a chance, I will explain. "But he is your temporal husband, Angeline! Why do you need to explain anything?" My mind screams at me, and I mentally smirk at myself.

We pass by the people again.

They haven't returned back into their houses, and I know some even eavesdropped on us, but I don't care.

I rummage through them as we pass by. For those that treated me like a street dog, I don't look at them twice. For the ones that helped me once or twice or countless times, I can still manage to spare them a smile despite my heavy heart for what happened back inside.

I said I don't care, that is why I haven't shed even a single drop of tear despite all that. And this lamp stuck in my throat, I will keep pushing it until it goes down my syndrome without spending even a drop of tear.

We get back to the car, and the car turns around, speeding off, leaving this place and all its memories behind.

Goodbye to the old, and hi to the new!

Walking in through the entrance of The Great Westview mall feels like walking through the gate of heaven. Deep inside I feel so cheap walking on the sparkling tiles, and clinging to this rich god beside me isn't lessening the feeling. I don't remember the year I lastly walked into a mini supermarket, and I have never set my feet in a mall, not to talk of a classic one like this one.

I hold on tight to the arm of Jerol, and we make our way in, to shop for the event of the day after tomorrow.

"We are going around in circles. What's wrong with the dresses?" Jerol asks, frustration and boredom in his voice.

"Have you checked the prices? This is daylight robbery, Jerol! It's too..." he covers my mouth with his hand, preventing me from uttering another word that will diminish his lifestyle.

He pulls me to him, whispering in my ear.

"Look around us." I do as he asks, while he drops his hand from my mouth.

Well, I made a good job at embarrassing him with that outburst about prices, because now everybody is looking at us. Some are even mocking me with sarcastic smiles.

"I'm sorry for embarrassing you like this. I don't think this place is for me." I say to Jerol, looking away, shame washing my face.

Out of the blue, and without a clue, I feel his arms wrapping around my shoulder, pulling me for a hug.

Huh? Why?

Before I can be turned into ice by the warmth of his sweet cologne scent, my sixth sense kicks in the charade is on for five months. Damn me!

"A wife should be wrapping her loving arms around her husband too right now." He reminds me in a whisper behind my ear, and before I can meltdown because of his hot breath that's tickling my bare skin, I move my hands under his armpits and wrap them around him.

I can win the award for the best winning actress because I am even closing my eyes, and my hands are moving slowly in a soothing motion on his fine back. I must show my worth of all the millions I am being paid for this job, right? That means this charade has to look as real as it can ever be.

I didn't know it was that easy to fake feelings though! I mean, it's always this simple?

We pull away, dropping my arms fully from his masculine body, but his remain on my shoulders.

I can feel the redness on my cheeks as he stares deep into my eyes, and my adrenaline rush due to his touch.

"What now?" He asks, but I am so not ready to waste a dime on this dress, so, I shake my head. "Come." Wrapping his hand around my waist, he pulls me to an area that looks like a fitting area.

We walk through them, him knocking on each door to know if there are people inside, until we come to an empty one. He guides me inside the clean and huge room, making me a seat on the black leather seat, while he stands in front of me.

He runs his hands from his chin up to his hair. He must be really pissed off with me. Maybe he is regretting choosing me as his fake wife. I can't blame him, because I too am regretting agreeing to this madness. He and I are from two different worlds that have nothing in common. How can we make this work?

"Maybe we should go somewhere else?" I state, breaking the silence and his cold stare before he slaps the hell outta me. He looks like he has mentally slapped me like ten times, and I don't want to wait for him to go physical. I am beginning to get afraid now.

"I want to understand you. So, the problem with those dresses we have seen is just the price?" He asks, shoving his both hands in his pocket, and standing straight. His height is every man's dream. I nod my head. "But I am the one who is paying, not you. So what's the deal?" He fumes.

"It doesn't matter who is paying, Jerol. The prices are madly exaggerated. One hundred nonsense for a single dress? I'm sure we can get the same dresses somewhere else at a thousand per cent lower price." I rant, my cool evaporating from me.

Okay! I don't know what's so funny with my suggestion that got the icy Jerol to smile.

I like his beautiful icy smile, no, I love it!

So this is how he looks while smiling, huh? Damn! He looks damn steamy hot but still with a cold aura. Ooh dear, I better stop thinking about this smile because it's messing with my mind.

Why is he smiling again?

"The fact that I don't know how we are going to cope like this for five months."

I knew it! He is tired already, and I understand. We are just so different. We have nothing in common. We are the opposite poles that can't attract each other.

If it ends here, at least I got to live with a rich beautiful god for five days.

Shit! Why... is that pain I am feeling inside my heart? No.. I think I am paranoid!

I push the lump that is forming in my throat, and force words out of my mouth, looking down.

"I am not fit for this, Jerol. There is still time for you to find someone who will match your standards." I utter albeit with a heavy heart.

"It's too late for that." He says, kneeling on one knee in front of me, resting his hands on my thighs. His touch on my bare skin is giving me a feeling that I can't explain. What do I know about men and feelings anyway? Nothing! I presume this is how it feels when any man touches you. "We can easily settle this. I will ask you two questions, and you will reply with a yes or no. Nothing more, okay?" I nod my head in agreement. "Do you like the dresses?"

Well, of course, I do. I mean, who wouldn't? They are freaking awesome. I am confident everybody would look great in them. But..

"Angel?"

"Angel?" I repeat after him. Nobody ever called me Angel, and I didn't expect that from him. Angel? What am I? A teenager?

"Angeline is too long for me. And Tessa? Tessa, Tessa! Not bad, but I prefer Angel, for some reasons that I will not say. But for the formalities, I will use Tessa McCall. So, Tessa McCall, do you love the dresses?"

"Yes."

"And the only problem is the prices, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Wait here." He stands up, making his way to the door.

"Wait." I call. He turns around, while I stand up. "Where are you going?"

"To do something about the price tags." With the smile replaced by his cold looks again, he slams the door behind him. I can feel his heavy steps on the floor as he makes his way to the section of the dresses.

That means it's the same dresses he is going to get? No way!

I hurry to the door. I have to stop him because there is no way we are spending that much on clothes.

I try twisting the lock, but, my bad! The jerk locked it from the outside.

Wow! Brilliant, Jerol!

How dare he lock me in here? Is he a psycho or something? So, we will be arguing in the bedroom and then he looks at me in the bathroom? Oh, my goodness! I knock on the door, but no one comes to my rescue. If he is a psycho, I better remain sane and not join him in his insanity. I defeatedly walk back to the seat, making myself as comfortable as I can.

Comfortable on my foot! That... what should I call him? He is an insane moron!

After about ten minutes, the door opens, and he stands outside, calms like a cucumber and not like someone who just acted so insane a while ago. How many dresses did he just choose? And wait, I thought you only get the shopping bags after paying for whatever you are buying. It seems like things here work vice versa just like the rich is vice versa for the poor.

"Let's go." He says, still holding the door ajar.

Go?

"Am I not fitting the dresses?"

"You'll do it in the house." His response is a no freaking cold one, as if daring you to challenge him, which I do.

"In the house? What if..."

"Tessa?" Whoa! That made even the people passing by to shiver, and they pass a distance from him. "I said, let's go. Please?" Mister paranoia is about to go hysterical.

Thank God, his anger can't allow him to look at me, because I don't want to imagine the look in his eyes. He is better off as a wolf or a vampire than a human. His reactions are close to what I read about how those creatures behave when they are enraged. Damn you, Jerol!

I raise my hands in surrender, and I walk out, him following suit, and of course, his arms going to my waist, annoying the hell out of me.

Welcome to the world of Jerol, the weirdo psycho! Cold hysterical moron! Dominant jerk!

"Your brain is better than I thought."

"Are you trying to be rude or insulting right now?"

"No. Alright, sorry. Let's go over it once more time."

We are sitting in our bedroom. Yes, ours me and Jerol's.

Don't look at me like that, sha!

We have been going over this for the last couple of minutes, and his mood today is no difference. Arrogant, or rude, should be his middle name!

"When and where did we meet?" He asks again.

For the third time, I give him the same answer. "Nine months ago, at a hotel in town."

"When did we became a couple?"

"Six months ago."

"When, where, and why did we get married?"

He stares at me for a while. May be he is now convinced that I have memorized everything?

"And who am I? Aside from being your husband, who is Jerol O'Brian McCall?"

Whoa! I mean, well, who is he? Yes, who are you, Jerol? Because as far as I know, you are a stranger that I know barely nothing about other than your name. I just met you five days ago and you turned my world upside down.

Maybe he is a magician?!

"Who are you? I don't remember you telling me anything about yourself." I say, and his look on me turns from cold into a confusing one.

"You have no idea who I am?" I shake my head. "You.. have.. never heard of the name Jerol O'Brian McCall before?" I shake my head again, and if this is confusion I am seeing on his face, then mine is shock written on my face.

Am I supposed to know him? Why? Is he known for possessing some superhero powers or something?

The dark look in his eyes fades a little, and he stands up. "Come with me." He says without looking back and like an obedient puppy, I trail behind him after locking the door.

We start ascending the long sparkling stairs, the servants standing a distance away from us, some bowing their heads like it's their master passing, while others turn their faces away as is it's a devil they are avoiding. Who really is this man?

He doesn't say a word to the servants who are shaking in fear just because of his presence. He doesn't even stare at them, and I do the same.

We walk to the third floor, which is the next floor from our bedroom. He opens the only door there is on the left, ushering me in. I walk in, and he does the same, slamming the door behind him.

My eyes catch the attention of the framed photos hanging around on the white walls of whant looks like a house office.

This man in the all these photos, is the same one towering me from behind. I walk closer, scanning at each one of them. Even between other elegant men, I still can make out his face. There is also one common name and tittle on all these photos. I know the name, it's the same as my husband's, but this tittle? You gotta be kidding!

CEO of the multi trillion ROYAL FUEL AND GAS COMPANY?

What is freaking happening here? I understand there might be a coincidence in the name, but his face? Why is he in the photos? And why is that name appearing everywhere on him?

I turn my shock of a face to him, my jaw rolling somewhere on the floor.

I look at him, with no expression at all on his face, then I look to the wall again, to that photocopy of his on those photos. I am in an exam room doing the compare and contrast test. Unfortunately, I can't seem to find any contradicting points between the two.

"Are... you.. y.o.u, you are the owner of the Royal fuel and gas company?" I ask in absolute shock, my eyes on him while my left hand index finger is pointing to the wall. Not on a specific photo I am sure, because even my hand is shaking.

"Yes. That's me." And he is saying it so flatly as if he is admitting to owning a kiosk or a single milk bar shop?

Someone shoot me!

I pull the swivel chair and sit down because my legs are giving up. What kind of joke is this?

I am married to a tycoon? A money guru? Me? How on earth? How on freaking earth can this be possible?

Oh, life! This must be one the invalid dreams you are mocking me with, right?

"Whant else do I need to know about you?" I ask after studying him for a couple of minutes. It wasn't my intention, my mouth just ran dry with words and I decided to put my eyes in use.

"I own the majority of shares in the central bank," more shock, "and I have shares in the Royal insurance company because my parents owns it." I'm out of words. My throat is even cracking out of dryness! It's becoming too hot for me in here! I swallow hard the little liquid in my mouth which doesn't help much. "Here," he hands me an ipad, "everything you need to know about me is all there." I take the iPad, or so I thought, but the next thing I know, it's hitting my ankle.

"Ouch! Shit!" I bend to collect the iPad, but Jerol happens too be fast to react.

"Let me." He says, taking the iPad and returning it on the table, while I massage my ankle. Damn me and my shock!

I try to stand, at least to ease the pain. Darn! I still have those freaking heels to wear tomorrow, not to mention that it will be my first time wearing heels. And now I am adding more injuries? Wow! Just wow!

I stagger, and Jerol catches a hold of me before I embarrass myself. I didn't even know I was heading to the door, and I swear I din't plan on walking out on him when I stood from the chair.

"Get a grip of yourself, will you? What's wrong?" He asks, and I push him away from me, standing a step away from him.

I didn't know I was holding so much. I thought I was strongly okay? I know I was strong. So why all these drama? Why do I have to breakdown like this in front of a stranger?

I feel the familiar arms wrapping around my shoulders, and I let my forehead rest on his chest, keeping my sobs at bay. Oh, dear, what a nice way of showing how broken I am! Like magic, the soothing of his arms rubbing my back calms me down, and I stop sobbing.

I pull away, and I start drying the wet parts of his shirt with the back of my hands.

"What do you think you are doing?" He asks, bending backwards, creating space between his chest and my hands.

"Drying up the mess I made on your shirt." I say softly, looking anywhere but his face. I know I look like pathetic a mess right now!

"Wipe these instead." He says, drying the tears from my eyes, and I get a chance to look at him. "You know, Tessa. I don't know what you went through before our paths crossed. But my advise to you is this. Don't be too hard on yourself. Take this as a second chance to live, and try to be happy in any way that you possibly can. You can redeem yourself through this!"

Well, that was the plan since I cut ties with my mother. It still is. I am choosing happiness and peace.

I take the iPad carefully from the table, and start taking small steps towards the door.

"You are right." I say to him. "I promise you won't see these tears ever again for the five months that we will be together. Plus," I stop and halfturn to him, "I bet the wife of a trillion.. trillio... wait, what am I supposed to call that? You are more than a billionaire."

"I am just Jerol to you, Tessa. The rest isn't important."

"Yeah, right! I will find that out." He smiles, no, is that a smile or a smirk? "I suppose Jerol's wife should be tough and strong. I will try to level up." I drag my foot again, turning my back on him. I need to digest all these. "And your smirk is annoying, by the way." I say as I reach for the door.

"And your limping sucks!"

Damn, I know that, you annoying jerk! Even my walking style alone can't be anywhere close to being good. What of when I am limping? Anyways, I don't walk to impress, getting where I am going is what matters to me. As long as I can lift my legs from the ground, as long as I am able to put one leg in front of the other, I am good.

I feel him behind me, and he puts his hand on the door nob before I do. I try to turn, but I bump to his face from behind me.

Heck!

"What do you think you are doing?" I ask, trying not to turn to him because he is so close. So dangerously close!

I should get used to this, though.

"We are going to massage that leg of yours because I don't want any mishaps tomorrow. Hold this." He hands me a first aid kit, which I take.

"And who is going to do the massage?"

"Your hubby, of course. Who else?"

Hubby! That huts, quite different!

"No, thank you! I will do it myself." I reach for the door nob, but before I know it, I am in his arms, a faint scream escaping my lips because I didn't see that coming. "Put me down, Jerol!" I say, and I am dead serious about that.

But who am I daring? The dare devil himself? He is about emit fire from his eyes to burn me alive!

"Open the door!" His cold voice echoes through my ears, his icy eyes daring me to say or do otherwise. I twist the nob, opening the door.

He walks out with me bridal style in his arms, while I am dying with embarrassment.

"Does he really have to camouflage like this? Jeez! He looks so ugly and scary, but.. still.. hot, when he is this cold! Is this how rich people behave?"

He stops on his feet, gazing at me with a murderous look, raising the eyebrows, making his semi almond eyes appear more bigger that usual.

"If you say one more word, I will drop you off and I will not even care about your screams as you roll down these stairs, you hear me?" He speaks way too loud that even the servants in the sitting room heard it. They all disappear to the kitchen in a hurry, and I am glad there is no one else on the stairway. Does he beat them or why do they fear him so much? What am I even saying? His authoritative and commanding voice is enough to scare even the devil himself! His damn eyes too!

"Then you will have no fake wife to present to your family and your rich guests tomorrow. I dare you!" I fire back.

"Shut the fuck up, Tessa!" He is shutting his eyes tight, speaking between gritted teeth, his lips trembling with anger as he speaks, and I opt to stop my childishness at this point. It's best for me if I don't want to end up with broken bones.

"Sorry, hubby. Carry on, please? I won't talk again." I finish, and I lay my head on his chest, as he picks up his pace again.

I feel the familiar arms wrapping around my shoulders, and I let my forehead rest on his chest, keeping my sobs at bay. Oh, dear, what a nice way of showing how broken I am! Like magic, the soothing of his arms rubbing my back calms me down, and I stop sobbing. I pull away, and I start drying the wet parts of his shirt with the back of my hands.

"What do you think you are doing?" He asks, bending backwards, creating space between his chest and my hands.

"Drying up the mess I made on your shirt." I say softly, looking anywhere but his face. I know I look like a mess myself.

A shit, to be precise!

If life was a play, huh? How many twists in just five freaking days?

"Wipe these instead." He says, drying the tears from my eyes, and I get a chance to look at him. "You know, Tessa. I don't know what you went through before our paths crossed. But my advice to you is this. Don't be too hard on yourself. Take this as a second chance to live, and try to be happy in any way that you possibly can."

Well, that was the plan since I cut ties with my mother. It still is. I don't know what just got into me a while ago. I am choosing happiness and peace.

I take the iPad carefully from the table and start taking small steps towards the door.

"You are right," I say to him. "I promise you won't see these tears again for the five months that we will be together. Plus," I stop and halfturn to him, "I bet the wife of a trillion.. trillio... wait, what am I supposed to call that? You are more than a billionaire."

"I am just Jerol, to you, Tessa. The rest isn't important."

"Yeah, right! I will find that out." He smiles. No. Is that a smile or a smirk? "I suppose Jerol's wife should be tough and strong. I will try to level up." I drag my foot again walking forward. "And your smirk is annoying, by the way." I shout, picking up my limping pace again.

"And your limping sucks."

Shit!

Yeah, I know that, you filthy rich jerk! Even my walking style alone can't be anywhere close to being good. What of when I am limping? Anyways, I don't walk to impress, getting where I am going is what matters to me. As long as I can lift my legs from the ground, as long as I can alternate one leg after another, I am good.

I feel him behind me, and he puts his hand on the door nob before I do. I try to turn, but I bump into his face from behind me. Heck!

"What do you think you are doing?" I ask, trying not to turn to him because he is so close.

"We are going to massage that leg of yours because I don't want any mishaps tomorrow. Hold this." He hands me a first aid kit, which I take.

"And who is going to do the massage?"

"Your hubby, of course. Who else?"

"No, thank you. I will do it myself." I reach for the door nob, but before I know it, I am in his arms. I even screamed because I didn't see that coming. "Put me down, Jerol," I say, and I am dead serious about that. But who am I daring? The dare devil himself? He is about to emit fire from his eyes to burn me.

"Open the door." His cold voice echoes through my ears, his icy eyes daring me to say or do otherwise. I twist the nob, opening the door.

He walks out with me bridal style in his arms, while I am dying with embarrassment.

"Does he have to camouflage like this? Jeez! He looks so ugly and scary when he is cold. Is this how rich people behave?" I murmur to myself.

He halts on his feet, gazing at me with a murderous look. His eyebrows are raised, making his semialmond eyes appear bigger than usual.

"If you say one more word I will drop you and I will not even care about your screams as you roll down these stairs, you hear me?" He speaks way too loud that even the servants in the sitting room heard it.

They all disappear to the kitchen in a hurry, and I am glad there is no one else on the stairway. Does he beat them or why do they fear him so much? What am I even saying? His authoritative and commanding voice is enough to scare anyone.

"Then you will have no fake wife to present to your family and your rich guests tomorrow. I dare you!"

"Shut. Up. Tessa!" He is shutting his eyes tight, speaking between gritted teeth, his lips trembling with anger as he speaks, and I opt to stop my childishness at this point. It's best for me.

"Sorry, hubby. Carry on, please? I won't talk again." I finish, and I lay my head on his chest, as he picks up his pace again.

"Wow, wow! I don't know whether to be proud of my work or be jealous of your beauty madam." My makeup artist says, stepping away from me.

I stand up, to have a good look at the woman in the reflection because I doubt it's really me. My, my, my, Tessa! Is this me? I lift my hand to my face, well polished up with ponds and perfectly made eyebrows. I run my hands smoothly and with care through my styled hair. I guess it's really me, then. Tessa Angeline McCall! At least I'm not that ugly to embarrass my rich handsome husband. Speaking of him, where is he?

"Thank you so much for this. You are really a great makeup artist."

"Well, thank you, madam. I'll take my leave now. Enjoy your day, madam, and if ever you need my services again, I will be happy to lend them to you."

"Thank you. I sure wouldn't look somewhere else. And please, call me Tessa."

"Alright. See you again, Tessa." She walks out, after packing her belongings in her makeup kit, while I am left to admire myself. I don't think even that woman I used to call mother would recognize me if she sees me now. What a transformation! Even my husband might not recognise me.

The door opens, and Jerol walks in, his jawdropping on the floor the moment his eyes fell on me. Well, I hope I will impress his guests just the way he is impressed. For a moment, he forgot how to close his mouth and how to blink, and I am sure he is holding his breath too.

"Does this look fit the title, Mrs McCall?" I speak, and his face changes all of a sudden, turning cold.

What is wrong with this guy, though? His mood swings are worse than those of a depressed pregnant woman. Is this how he has been or is something bothering him? He seems so unhappy for a money guru like him. Living in a castle, swimming in all the money and wealth that he has, and not having a nagging wife beside him, shouldn't he be the happiest bachelor? What could be his problem?

"Just a second." I say before we start walking out, and he stops, turning to me with a frown that says, "what now"? "Don't you at least need to keep a cool face for this to look a bit convincing?" I ask because if this is how we are going to look, it will take just a minute for people to know this is nothing but a show.

He half smiles and opens his mouth to speak. "Don't worry. I want this to look real more than you can imagine. And since I know you didn't read the contract, I will have you know that we are going to do everything that a real married couple does in public. The chemistry between us should both be seen and felt."

"Wait. What do you mean? What else does this entail?"

"Ever heard of romantic hugs, kissing, and don't think I am going overboard when you feel my hand squeezing your thighs under the table."

I don't give a hoot about squeezing my thighs and hugs, I can handle that. Let me get one thing clear about this kissing that is already making my blood cold.

"By kissing, I suppose you mean, a peck here and there?" I am shaking as I ask, my gaze stern in his eyes. Now that we are so close, I think I like the coldness in his eyes. They hold this powerful attraction that is so devilish but weirdly charming. Powerful enough to lure anyone into their dark world. They speak nothing but pure sweet sin. My, he can be such an irresistible charm if only he can work on his attitude.

"And where is the reality of love in a mare peck?" I mean real kissing."

Shoot me!

How on earth am I going to kiss him in public when I have never kissed anyone even in secret?

"Well, I have never kissed anyone. I might embarrass you there." I say, looking away. He lets go of my hand and grabs my purse, throwing it on the bed, and he stands right in front of me. He tilts my head with his finger so that I face him. He studies me for what feels like a decade, and next, he wraps his both hands around my waist, keeping his eyes on me. He closes the small gap between us, erupting fire in my body.

"Your hands on my chest." He orders, and I obey, struggling to maintain eye contact. This is all new to me. Being this close to a man, our bodies touching like this, looking at each other like this, I have never experienced this closeness with a man. That is why I am sure my cheeks are as red as a tomato right now. I don't know where his thoughts have wandered off to just now, leaving his eyes on me, his stare making me uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that I am starting to tremble.

What is he thinking about right now? Or perhaps, who is he thinking about? What is bothering you, Jerol? Why do I feel like behind this cold man is a vulnerable person suffering from the inside? For a man of yours pedigree to be like this, you must be in some deep shit, Jerol.

I pat his chest gently.

"Hubby?" He snaps back from wonderland. "It's not right to zone out on your wife like that, is it?" He smirks, faking a smile.

"Forgive me, my dear wife." He says, rubbing his thumbs playfully on my back.

"So, what's next?" I ask.

His eyes fall on my lips, staring at them for a while. He leans in, levelling his lips with mine but leaving a small gap between our lips, and I tense. He is going to kiss me? I am going to have my first kiss. I feel some Deja Vu. I can't wait to feel the magic of a kiss. I close my eyes, my heart beating ten times its usual, and I wait for his lips to crash on mine.

"Nothing." Instead of him kissing me, he speaks, and I open my eyes, meeting his cold ones. Apart from their usual coldness, there is something else in them, something I can't fathom. Is it guilt? For what? Is it fear? Why? Is it remorse? I don't know. "You will just need to move your lips in rhythm with mine when that happens. But don't worry. I will try to limit the romance as much as possible." I have no words to say to him, so I just nod my head.

He has a demon hunting him, I suppose. He takes my purse from the bed where he threw it some minutes ago, and then he sneaks his hand around my waist, pulling me closer to him. We walk out, him carrying my purse like a romantic hubby, and me walking beside him with a mega smile on my face like the happiest wife in the world. I love this game.

Shit! How do people manage all day with these annoying heels?

"Are you alright?" Jerol asks, pulling us a distance away from the multitude.

"My ankles are beginning to hurt. I don't think I can stand for long."

"Ahh, okay. I don't know why my parents are taking too long. They are the only ones missing. I'll just give them a call. If they are nearby I'll just call everyone to the dinner table, okay?"

I nod my head, and he moves to my side, wrapping an arm around me while fishing his phone from his pocket with the other hand. However, before he could even finish unlocking his phone, a voice from behind startled us, and we turn around.

"Welcome, father. Mother!" Jerol takes a step to hug his mother who glitters with adoration the moment his son speaks to him.

"Hey, son!" She says, enveloping her son in a motherly hug.

If only I knew the feeling, I would be able to know how exactly Jerol is feeling right now in his mother's loving arms. But never did I receive a hug from my mother in my whole life, so, I can only imagine the feeling. It must be sweet.

Boom!

My cheeks turn red due to that sweet intro from my fake husband, and the smile that appears on his father's face warms my heart. However, I paralyse the moment my gaze lands on his mother. I knew she wasn't impressed with me for some reason. I guess you can't hide everything with just a makeover, right? She might have sensed something odd behind this beautiful attire and makeups.

But honestly, does she have to be so harsh and so obvious? She is strangling me with her eyes.

"What a beauty you got for yourself here, son! I didn't know you had such great taste!"

"Oh, come on father!"

"I am dead serious. I am tempted to think that you got her from one of these stupid dating sites because I know you Jerol, you don't have time for anything but work. But then again, her beauty and everything else about her tells me that she is too descent and well reserved for such crap."

"Are you trying to scare my wife away, father?"

"Not at all, son. I am happy that you finally, finally, found your missing rib. Now I see why it took you almost forever, huh? You were mining a gold. Good job son, and welcome to the family my dear." He pulls me for a hug, and after we pull away, he offers me his hand for a handshake. "I am Adriano McCall."

"Ni.. nice meeting you, Mr McCall." I mumble with a broken voice.

"Come on now, my daughter. You are my son's wife, and that practically makes you my daughter. Just call me father, that will make me so proud."

"Well.." I spare a glance at Jerol, and after he slightly nods his head to me as a yes sign, and an assuring smile appears on his face, I turn to his father who still has my hand in his. "Alright. Father. Thank you." He smiles, and I snuggle back to Jerol's arm.

"Sweetheart." He turns to his statue of a wife who looks so bored even before the party begins. "Aren't you going to say anything to your daughter or even your son on this big step he has taken?"

She looks at her husband and fakes a weak smile that is so obvious, and she turns to me, offering her hand. "Welcome, Tessa Angeline.....? Sorry, I didn't get your sir name. What was it again?" She says, and my hand just got hooked on the air by some kind of magic. We stare at each other, our hands waiting for the handshake, her eyes challenging, and her expression growing impatient of waiting for an answer.

"I.. I.." I swallow hard and avoid her eyes for a moment. I don't want to see the look of disappointment in her after what I am about to say, because I can feel it is way below her expectations.

"She is a McCall, mum. That is all there is to know."

Saviour! I was about to grin until her mother challenged me.

"I know that, son. But which family does she come from? Where does she come from? Who are her people? I think I have the right to know, right, son?" Her hand falls on the side of her thigh, the sound of the invaluable bracelets on it being the only sound that can be heard around us.

I look up to Jerol, and from the look of things, his silence and the confusion on his face, I am sure he wasn't expecting this. He looks clueless about what to say, and because I hate lies, I decide to let out the truth. Besides, there is nothing to be ashamed of whether I have a surname or not.

"I don't have a surname, Mrs. McCall. I was just Tessa Angeline before I became a McCall." I say, and her eyes turn cold at once.

"What?" You don't have parents? You never had parents? Who raised you? Where did you grow up? What do you do then? What have you specialized in? Are you...."

"Mom, please! Is this some kind of interrogation or something?" Jerol shouts, cutting his mother off, shocking both his parents with his outburst. I don't know whether to be glad that he came to my rescue before his mother could choke me with her questions, or feel bad for him almost yelling at his mother just to defend me. I'm sure this woman will have more reasons to hate me now.

"Well, I am sorry. But forgive me, son. I just can't accept anyone in this family without a thorough check on their background. This world is full of fake people. People who are experts in nothing but taking advantage of every chance they get. So, who exactly is this woman, Jerol? I need answers."

God, please! I can't be the reason for this family to fight on the first day I meet them.

"This woman, mum, is the woman I love. She is my wife. No more questions and that's final." He tried to remain as calm as he could, but his eyes, they are smoking fire. I reach for his hand, and intertwin our fingers, squeezing it a little in an attempt to calm him a little.

"You are so damn wrong, Jerol, if you think I will accept her that just like that without knowing her real identity. I will do whatever it takes to know her every single detail." She warns.

"Do whatever you want, mother, as long as you don't involve us. Whatever your findings will be, don't bother us with them. Now if you don't mind, we have kept the guests waiting for far too long, and it's getting late. Let's have dinner, please."

We all stroll on the red carpet to the redthemed dining table with white plates and clear glasses well arranged.

After a moment of chitchatting and inaudible whispers, the servants bring the food to the table. Everyone is teasing Jerol about having a beautiful girlfriend. One even made a joke that he will snatch me away from him, but just one single glare from Jerol was enough to make him take his words back.

The aroma, my God! It's so rich. I swear I have never smelled something so good in my entire life.

"What can I serve you?" Jerol inquires when it's almost our turn to serve ourselves.

I'm almost drooling!

Wait...

What do I know about rich people's foods? Nothing. These people are so complicated in just everything. Chicken to them is not the ordinary chicken the poor people know. They have different kinds of chicken depending on how it's cooked. That is what I learnt from a servant here, and since I can't even differentiate between roasted and grilled chicken, I tell Jerol to serve me whatever he is having.

Soon enough, a plate of chicken and brownish rice that's mouthwatering lay under my nose, and a bowl of soup aside. I run for the piece of chicken on my plate, but before I can lay my hands on them, some clicking sounds startled me.

I look around the table, and that's when it hit me. I am not back in the ghetto where almost everything is eaten with hands. I am with the rich, and distinguished, and I have to behave like them. Jerol must have discovered my distress, and like he said before we left the bedroom earlier, I feel his hand squeezing my thigh under the table, probably asking, "what's up"?, because I am sure I look damn tense.

I look at him, and then at the small knife and fork on my plate, but he gives me a questionable smile.

I clench on the new eating tools and try to prove my fitness in this class of the rich, but I fail miserably. Even holding the small knife properly is an issue, not to talk of cutting the damn meat which seems so slippery for the knife. I try again, and again, and again, until I bitterly take a break, releasing a sigh of frustration.

This is so freaking not my style!

People are almost halfway through their meal, but I have not touched mine, and the aroma is not doing any justice to this situation. I take a couple of sips of the juice first, hoping it can calm my nerves. I throw a glance at Jerol from the corner of my eyes. His food is barely touched too, perhaps because he has been watching me fight with this damn knife and fork. I put the glass of juice down, and I grab the stupid tools again. Just one more. They have to work! They need to.

I angrily try, but the result is the same. I put them together and toss them aside, mentally murmuring a thousand curses to them. I grab the chicken piece with my hand, and munch on it. I will do things the best way I know how to. I can't force myself to be what I am not. I chew the meat in my mouth and I tell you what? It tastes heavenly. It's so good and...

"Oh, my goodness! What the heck!"

I know that voice. I heard it earlier, and I don't need to look in her direction to know how she looks right now.

"This is so embarrassing!" She murmurs, between gritted teeth, I suppose.

I look around, and wow! Just wow! All the uncountable eyes are on me, except for the one person beside me who I don't want to look at right now. Ever been in a situation where you have food in your mouth but you can't swallow it because it's not chewed and for some reason, you can't continue chewing? That's where I am, and spitting it out is the most embarrassing thing I can't afford to do right now.

God! Why did you bring me here?

"Miss, the knife and the fork, are used for cutting the meat." Another damn voice of a lady echoes.

Yeah, right! As if I don't fucking know that.

"Maybe this is all new to her." That was a woman's voice again, and Jerold had to spare this specific one a glance, while I bow down with shame.

I am not ashamed of who I am, but embarrassing Jerol is what is eating me up. What do they think of him now, hub?

"Jerol?" Her mother calls, calm but furious.

"Yes, mom?" He asks, his voice so flat. No anger in it. No nothing.

"Didn't you teach your wife some table manners? What sort of embarrassment is this?" The way she is saying it, the way she is pointing at me, she is really pissed off, and I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me alive right now.

"What's so wrong with what she is doing mother?" Like everybody at the table, my eyes travel to him. "Has it ever been a crime to use hands to eat?" He dared anybody to answer, and nobody dared to. They just stare at him with dismay, and I feel bad because I know deep inside he is not pleased with this behaviour. He is just trying to defend me. To make me not look so odd and unfit in his world. But by doing this he is embarrassing himself more.

"Oh, please, son!" Her mother retorts back, his father trying to calm her down to no avail. I presume she is the only one who can dare his son."How can you stoop so low, son? No wonder she even doesn't have a surname!"

"No surname?" A couple of voices ask in unison.

"As early as now, Jerol, take this garbage where you picked it from because she is not fit for you, nor for this family. SHE CAN NOT BE YOUR WIFE, SON!" His mother states, stressing on every word of the last sentence.

"She already is, mother, and I am not here to ask for anybody's approval. My heart approved her, and I love her just the way she is." He leans into peck my cheek that's on his side to prove his point.

"But I am telling you...."

If only this was real, I would be melting in his touch right now. But I have a very strong guard to always remind me that all this is just for show, and it will last for just five months. I wonder what he will tell people after we end the charade and part ways.

He hands me my meat back, pulling me for a forehead kiss. Turning to his plate, he takes his fork and the small knife and throws them on the table, munching on the chicken from his bare hands, shocking everyone.

From the look of everyone, I think they are thinking he has gone insane. Nobody seems to believe that he is doing this. Not even me. Nobody asks any more questions, except for her mother who can't stand to watch her son acting like a psycho. She pushes her plate of food aside, grabs the classy handbag and stomps out. What shocks me the most is that her husband doesn't bother to stop her or follow her. He continues eating like his wife didn't just walk out in the middle of the dinner infuriated.

"I'm sorry." I say to Jerol as we stand on the sink washing our hands, him behind me like a romantic couple.

"For what?" He implores, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Are you serious? For embarrassing you in front of your guests like that. And not to mention I am the reason why you are at gross with your mother, and the reason why she walked out like that is still me. I feel awful."

He turns me around to face him after we dry our hands.

"There is nothing to apologize for. Don't ever feel bad for being just you. As for my mother, she will come around. Don't worry, alright?"

"What about you? Do you still think you can manage me for that long? Aren't you pissed off already?" I ask, keeping my voice as low as possible.

"Do you honestly want to know what I think?" He cups my face.

"Mmh?" I nod my head.

"We haven't been convincing enough to these people." He says, brushing my lower lip with his thumb. "Forgive me for this, okay?" He whispers with his eyes closed, leaning so dangerously close to my lips, closing the gap between us. Before I can answer his question, his lips crash on mine, for our very first kiss my first kiss. As his hand moves to the back of my neck to hold me still and support me, mine move freely to his chest, holding on to his shirt for support.

"Wow! Cheers to the lovebirds." I think our kissing took longer than we both intended, until the people decided to remind us that we are not in the bedroom. As if anything will ever happen in that bedroom, dah! Nobody should know, though.

We pull away, and saunter back to the table, him smiling and I blushing, taking our glasses and clicking them together.

He even stole a peck!

"To a happy marriage, my son. Be happy." That is his father. I can tell he has a good heart.

"Thank you, father. Cheers, everyone!"

We raise our glasses again, and then take a sip. As people sink down to their seats again to enjoy the cold drink on the cold night, Jerol pulls me for another slow kiss, and men, is he sweet? I don't know about that, but the kiss is generally sweet. The butterflies in my stomach are attesting to that.

Heck! I even have no right whatsoever to meddle in his business. But nobody knows that, so I have to behave and act like the wife that people think I am. "Don't worry so much, nanny. I will do my best to convince him to let you stay. Now go and rest, and please don't leave your room, okay?"

"I won't madam. Thank you so much."

"It's alright." I say and turn to the rest of the servants. "Please take her to her room." They bow slightly and accompany nanny Sonia back into the house.

How do I face that beast that seemed so furious like it could devour anybody that dares to talk to him? Oh, dear!

"Ahh.. excuse me, ma'am." I turn around to the voice of another servant whose name I am reading from the tag just now. How many servants are here, huh? fifteen? Twenty? Gosh! I might leave this place without being familiar with half of them.

"Yes, Terry?" I say.

"Aah.. I..." she pauses to clear her throat and continues stammering again. "You see...madam...aah...I..."

"Terry! Whatever you have to say, say it at once. what is it?"

"Aah.. ma'am, you see.. I know sir is your husband but.. I just wanted to tell you kindly to be...a bit careful around him ma'am. We don't know what sir is going through but he has turned violent this past three weeks."

"So he wasn't like that.."

"Sorry, ma'am. Did you say something?"

"Huh? No." I am glad she did not hear that. She might have wondered whether I don't know my husband. "Don't worry, Terry. I know how to handle my husband. But thanks all the same for your concern."

"Okay, ma'am. I'm sorry for taking your time. I will take my leave now. Thank you." She bows and walks away.

Is there something fishy here or am I overthinking? On one hand, some stranger is missing that Jerol is trying so hard to locate. The person didn't go missing long ago according to my own understanding, and Jerol wasn't this temperamental from the start. He changed just weeks ago? Has one thing got to do with the other? If yes, then what is it? Who is this person that is driving him nuts?

An employee?

A business partner?

Just who?

Before I go eccentric trying to connect dots that don't concern me, I shuffle my legs inside. I was planning on resting but when I didn't find Jerol in the room, but I decide to look for him. He might be taking his anger out on someone else or something else. Perhaps punching a wall? I heard that's what most men do when they are irated.

Standing on the door of his study, I hear him yelling. I was right. He is vetting his anger on someone.

"I don't care, Mike, you hear me? Turn this fucking world upside down if you have to. Move heaven and earth if possible. Just find her for me, man, and bring her to me in one piece! I need her before I lose my mind. She has to reappear!"

He goes silent, and I, the eavesdropper, can't believe my ears.

So all this madness has a name. The term of all these, is a woman? She is the reason for him acting like a psycho? A full CEO acting like this because of a woman? Just who the hell is she that is driving him nuts?