Chapter Four

Lily’s POV:

Two weeks ago, I married The Lucas Hawke.

Well, not exactly “married.” We didn’t have some grand wedding, no white-draped ballroom, no aisle to walk down. Instead, we legally joined. Just the two of us and the civil registry. 

But we did take pictures, in Rome.

I’ll never forget the dress I wore—Yumi Katsura’s White Gold Dress. It cost $8.5 million, an absolute masterpiece. Crafted from the finest silk and satin, with hand-stitched zari embroidery that sparkled in the sunlight, 1,000 pearls woven into the fabric, and a rare 5-carat white gold diamond at the center. The centerpiece though—the 8.8-carat green diamond glowed like the sun.

Lucas looked the part too, in his black tuxedo from Kiton, a luxury clothing brand known for its tailor-made suits. His tuxedo alone was worth $85,000.

After taking pictures, we boarded his private jet to Tokyo for our “honeymoon.” I couldn’t quite get over the irony of it all. Our honeymoon wasn’t about connecting emotionally or starting a new life. 

It was about content. We spent our days playing pretend—laughing, chasing each other, exchanging light kisses as cameras clicked and cameras rolled. We filmed videos—posing as the perfect, loving couple—so that we could share them with the world later.

We spent these past two weeks at the airport, hotels, and endless photo ops in the same cities Lucas had visited for his business deals over the past three years. The reason? He needed the world to know that Lucas Hawke didn’t go anywhere without his wife.

PR stunt.

It was all for show. Every photo we took, every video of us together, was released strategically to paint a picture of a billionaire’s carefully hidden love life. 

The world now had proof that Lucas had been married for years, that he had secretly wed, and that his private life had been kept under wraps—until now.

“Breaking news: Billionaire tycoon Lucas Hawke has been married for the past three years and wanted to keep his relationship from the public eye. A picture of his wedding certificate dated three years ago, alongside images of his private wedding and fun moments shared with his wife, were released late last night…”

Following that, video footage emerged—proof that all the employees involved in his recent scandal had received $500,000 from his rival, Noah Sylvester, CEO of Miltex Ventures. 

It was a flawless plan. The entire public shifted their perspective in an instant. Lucas was innocent, and Noah Sylvester became the villain. Praise flooded in for Lucas, and the internet erupted with congratulatory messages for us, sending gifts and showering us with attention.

But behind the scenes? That’s where things got complicated.

A week into our marriage, we never spoke. When the cameras went off, it was as if we had reverted back to the cold, distant people we had been before. He treated me like a business asset, nothing more.

Not that I expected anything more, to be honest. It was a contract marriage, after all. 

I wasn’t exactly expecting candlelit dinners and loving glances. But humanity—the basic decency of treating someone like a human being—would have been nice.

Still, as the days went by, something shifted. Lucas remained distant, yes, but he started to make an effort. Small conversations here and there. At first, it was just about business—checking in on trivial details, discussing work matters—but then, there were moments where we actually exchanged words. 

I guess it was the awkwardness of pretending to be married that kept us both from feeling too comfortable with each other.

Now, here we are heading back to California.

The car ride to the airport felt strangely... peaceful. As the car approached the main terminal, Lucas made an unexpected turn and drove straight toward the private hangars where planes were boarded.

I glanced at him, but he said nothing. The car came to a stop in front of a sleek black jet waiting on the tarmac.

Lucas pulled out his phone and made a call without a word to me.

“Is everything ready?” He asked, his voice businesslike.

Though I couldn’t hear the person on the other end clearly. “Yes Sir.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone, signaling for us to step out of the car.

Before I could even take a breath, a swarm of reporters appeared from nowhere. They rushed in, blocking the path to the jet and shoving microphones and cameras in our faces.

"Lucas, what’s your next move after the recent scandal?" One shouted.

“Mr. Hawke, Mrs. Hawke! Why did you keep your marriage hidden?” Another chimed in, pushing a camera closer.

I tried to keep my head down, but the flashes were blinding.

We were both silent.

Neither of us had ever really thought about this—about why we kept our marriage hidden.

We had never planned it. 

The reporters were still shouting questions, pushing their microphones closer, but Lucas tried to push them back, stepping forward to block their view. 

However, when I began to speak, he paused. "I’m sure you all have done your research on me." I said, calmly. "You know my background, my childhood. How drastically it all turned out. Four years ago, my father started experiencing financial issues. However Lucas and I were already engaged at that time, but I was on the verge of calling off the engagement. Why? Because the world would say: 'She married a billionaire to save her poor father.'"

I paused, then continued. "I refused help from him, and a year ago, my father went bankrupt. All his assets were seized. We never really had the right time to disclose our marriage, because the world would still question my love for him."

I could feel the reporters’ eyes on me as I spoke, but I refused to flinch. Before anyone could respond, a van pulled up, and men in black suits poured out, pushing the reporters aside. 

They made way for us, and Lucas and I hurried toward the jet.

Inside, I collapsed into one of the seats, breathing heavily, my heart still racing. The attendant quickly offered me a bottle of water, which I accepted gratefully. I downed it in one go.

"I never expected you to be smart enough to handle the situation." Lucas said, with a smirk.

I chuckled, turning to face him. "I’m still not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult."

"See it as both." He replied, his gaze cold.

I turned back to the window, trying to focus on something else. "What next?" I asked quietly, unable to keep the curiosity from my voice.

"You’ll be taken to the hospital for a full-body checkup once we arrive in California." Lucas answered, his eyes on his phone, not looking at me.

"Why?" I asked, my brows furrowing.

"Didn't you read the contract?" He shot back, clearly irritated.

"I didn’t get the chance to.” I replied. "I was dealing with a call from the hospital, threatening to cut me off from my father if I didn’t pay for the broken equipment. Do you really not remember?"

"I remember that." He said. "But I also remember telling you to read through the contract before you signed it. But you didn’t listen. Instead, you signed it and requested an upfront payment of 1.3 million dollars."

I blinked, taken aback. "Okay... And why is all this important? What does it have to do with me going to the hospital?"

He paused, letting the question hang in the air before answering. "It’s stated in the contract that we will be married for two years. During that time, you’ll have to carry my child. And after breastfeeding, you will be paid 25 million dollars and sent to any country of your choice to have a new beginning."