3. Never gonna happen

I then turned to Ivan’s mother, my eyes narrowing. "I’m sorry, but I can’t agree to this," I said firmly, gripping my mother’s hand tighter. "This whole situation is a mistake. I was intoxicated, and I agreed to marry your son. You can tell the press that. I’m not going to make it worse by pretending to be something I’m not."

The other young lady almost my age, who was dressed in a brown and cream color shirt, looked down at the iPad she was holding and raised it at me. "With this success, this is bringing, I'm not sure telling the press such is a good idea."

Ivan’s mother raised an eyebrow, her expression calm and composed. "I understand this is overwhelming, Veronica," she said, her voice smooth but insistent. "But think about the opportunities this could bring. Not just for Ivan, but for you too."

I shook my head, my resolve hardening. "I don’t care about the opportunities. I care about my mother and my sanity. I’m not moving into your mansion and continuing this lie."

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ivan’s mother exchanged a glance with the man standing beside her—probably one of Ivan’s representatives—before letting out a soft sigh. "Very well," she said, disappointment lacing her words. "But remember, this opportunity won’t last forever."

With that, she signaled the lady and the man and stood up to leave. Just before stepping out, Ivan’s mother cast a final glance at my mother, who was still trying to catch her breath. "I do hope you reconsider," she added before they walked out of the apartment.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I turned to my mom, who was clutching my hand tightly, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Mom, it’s going to be okay," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. "We’ll figure this out together, I promise."

But to my surprise, my mother shook her head, her voice trembling. "No, Veronica. You have to do it."

I blinked, taken aback. "What? Mom, no, I can’t—"

"You have to," she interrupted, her tone more desperate now. "Please, I’m begging you. If this will help… If it means you can be taken care of, I need you to do it. For me."

My heart sank as I looked at her. I had always been her rock, the one holding everything together when the world felt like it was falling apart. And now, seeing her so broken, so afraid, I felt my resolve crumbling.

"Mom, I don’t want to live a lie," I whispered, trying to make her understand.

Her grip on my hand tightened even more. "Sometimes, we have to do things we don’t want to, to protect the people we love," she said, her voice breaking. "If this is what it takes to keep you safe, to keep us both safe… then please, do it."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to keep my composure. I didn’t want to be forced into something I didn’t want, but seeing the fear and desperation in my mother’s eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, and when I opened them again, I nodded slowly. "Alright, Mom," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I’ll do it. But only for you."

She collapsed into my arms, sobbing quietly, and I held her tightly, wondering how I was going to survive the chaos that was about to consume my life.

Hours passed, and I sat in silence beside my mother, replaying the day’s events over and over in my mind. The weight of what I had just agreed to press down on me left me feeling numb and terrified.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone. I knew what I had to do, but that didn’t make it any easier. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the phone and dialed the number Ivan’s mother had left. It rang only once before she answered as if she had been expecting the call.

"I’ve changed my mind," I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. "I’ll move into the mansion and keep up the facade. But I have conditions."

"Of course," Ivan’s mother replied smoothly, not a trace of surprise in her voice. "We can discuss the details tomorrow. I’ll send a car to pick you up."

I nodded to myself, my heart heavy. "Fine. I’ll be ready."

As I hung up the phone, a hollow ache spread through my chest. I was stepping into a world I didn’t understand, bound by an agreement I didn’t want. But for my mother’s sake, I would do it.

*****

As soon as I opened the door, a woman in the crowd thrust a microphone toward me. "Mrs. Carlos, can you please tell us how your secret relationship with Mr. Carlos turned into an engagement?"

The words caught in my throat as I stared at the crowd gathered outside. Paparazzi, curious onlookers, and a group of young girls—who I assumed were Ivan Carlos’s fans—stared back at me. The girls, in particular, seemed to be shooting daggers my way, their expressions a mix of envy and hostility.

My mother, who had insisted on accompanying me to the Carlos mansion, stood beside me, just as stunned as I was.

"Please, tell us!" the reporter pressed, cameras flashing relentlessly in my face. "How come we haven't heard about you until now? Is it true that you and Mr. Carlos were seen together at the club that night?"

The flood of questions and the barrage of camera flashes overwhelmed me. My thoughts swirled in confusion, and I felt my chest tighten with anxiety. Without a word, my mother grabbed my arm and pulled me back inside the apartment, slamming the door shut behind us.

Inside, the sudden silence was jarring. I leaned against the door, trying to steady my breathing as my mother looked at me, her eyes wide with concern.