Our marriage is fake

Chapter 7

Freya's POV

I opened my eyes, hoping that everything that had happened would be just a dream, and I'd find myself back home. I missed my mom terribly and couldn't wait to visit her again.

"Waylen," I called, a smile spreading across my face. My son was adorable, inheriting his blonde hair from his father. I still couldn't pinpoint which trait he got from me.

As I stood up, I realized I was wearing a completely different outfit. Confused, I glanced around the room. My gaze landed on the familiar portrait, confirming that I was indeed in Michael's room. But I wondered, had he changed my clothes? I pushed the thought aside, knowing he wasn't capable of such behavior.

"Finally, she wakes," Michael said, emerging from the bathroom. My gaze, settlling on the droplet of water clinging to his chest. I felt a flutter, which I quickly suppressed, reminding myself that Ambrose was the only man who had ever held my attention.

I looked away, my eyes fixed on the floor. "Did... did you change my dress last night?" I asked, feeling uneasy. Michael's laughter sent a shiver down my spine.

"Don't flatter yourself, Rogers," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I wouldn't even touch a strand of your hair." His words stung, and I felt a pang of disappointment.

"Oh... I..." I trailed off.

"Mrs. Cooke did," he snapped, heading toward his wardrobe. I recalled that Mrs. Cooke was the housekeeper, the only person Michael seemed to tolerate. Wasn't it weird he asked her to change me? What if she question our marriage, or has he perhaps told her everything?

As I pondered the implications, Michael's voice broke my reverie. "You're fully awake, Rogers. Aren't you supposed to give me the privacy I deserve. I'm in the middle of changing. You're not a toddler"

"Of course, Mr. Smith," I retorted, rising from the bed. My bare feet made contact with the cold marble floor. I had no desire to linger and invite further insults. Ambrose's physical abuse was nothing compared to Michael's verbal cruelty.

As I exited the room, I couldn't help but think that Michael and Emma were a perfect match. My thoughts were interrupted by Alexis's cheerful voice.

"Freya, I've finally found you!" she exclaimed, grasping my hand tightly. "I've been looking everywhere for you." I raised an eyebrow, skeptical of her claim. It was barely past 7 am;hardly an "all day" search.

"I forced a smile. "Sorry, I've been busy since the party."

Alexis beamed. "So, aren't you and Michael going on a honeymoon? Newlyweds always do that, right?"

I thought quickly. "Oh, that! Michael and I have decided to postpone our honeymoon until my birthday. We're both busy, and I'm sure he's planning a surprise for me."

I hoped Alexis wouldn't mention this to Michael, who would likely be clueless about our nonexistent honeymoon plans.

Alexis's smile seemed to hide an ulterior motive "Oh, wow! Really? That means we'll have a full house to celebrate. Grandpa, Emma, Ambrose, and everyone will be there."

The mention of Ambrose's name sent shivers down my spine. I forced a smile, careful not to reveal my unease. "Oh, yeah."

Just then, Michael's door creaked open, and I tensed, fearing Alexis would ask him the same question. What if our responses didn't match?

Michael approached us, dressed in formal attire, briefcase in hand. I realized I had never seen him mention his work before, or even leave for the office.

"Michael, come on, you're not seriously going to work when you should be on your honeymoon in Paris?" Alexis asked bluntly, her eyes narrowing as Michael paused.

I knew Alexis was nosy and wouldn't rest until she got information directly from Michael. I had to protect my marriage, no matter how fake it was, to ensure my mother's safety.

"Alexis, I already told you, Michael will plan everything at once and throw me a birthday party," I said, glancing at Michael, whose expression was unreadable. I gave him a subtle nod, urging him to play along.

Alexis's eyes sparkled with curiosity, but Michael's response was laced with his usual sarcasm. "Alexis, the last time I checked,, Freya is my wife, not you. I don't think I owe you any explanation." He snapped, as I stifled a smile, relieved that Michael had played along, even if it was in his typical abrasive manner. Alexis deserved the rebuke; serves her right.

"Sweetheart," Michael called, his gaze locked on mine. I marveled at his ability to feign affection. "I'll call you when I get to the office," he said, his hand brushing against my shoulder. I froze, surprised by the gentle gesture.

It was the first time I'd heard him mention an office. I didn't even know if he had one. Yet, here he was, playing the part of a devoted husband.

"Oh...yes, babe," I replied, forcing a smile as I watched him leave.

I turned to Alexis, who looked like she'd lost her last marble. "So, where were we again?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Alexis seemed dazed. "Oh...excuse me for a while," she muttered, hurrying away before I could say a word.

I chuckled quietly to myself. I'd come too far to stop now. Besides, I don't think Alexis was a match for Michael.

My phone suddenly buzzed, and I picked it up instantly. The message from an unknown number sent a shiver down my spine:

[We need to talk. Tonight, at 7 pm, Fountain Tower.]

I recognized the number – it was Ambrose's. My eyes closed tightly as I whispered, "Yeah, we need to talk."

******

Michael's POV

As I sat in my office, my mind kept drifting back to the name Freya mentioned last night: "Ambrose." I spoke the name aloud, wondering who it belonged to. Was it merely a coincidence, or was it the same Ambrose from the picture? But that seemed impossible; what were the chances they knew each other?

My thoughts were interrupted by Jason's calm voice. "Boss?" he said, closing the door softly behind him.

Jason and I had attended college together. He'd often helped me with assignments and projects, showcasing his exceptional talent. People frequently commented on our resemblance, noting the slight differences ; my blonde hair versus his dark locks, his brown irises, and the single inch that made him taller than me. I stood at 6'2", a height that rarely left me overshadowed.

"Michael? You came to work?" Jason asked, his face etched with shock. The sudden switch from "boss" to my name was jarring. "What's wrong with me showing up to my own office?" I asked, thoughtlessly.

"Obviously, but not when you're supposed to be on your honeymoon," Jason said. "It's only been a few days since the wedding, and people will be shocked..."

I interrupted him abruptly, my conscience nagging me. As my best friend, Jason deserved the truth. Besides, Freya might have someone she had confided in too. But why was I thinking about her again?

"Jason... stop" I said softly

"Stop? C'mon, you spoke about how you're gonna spoil your woman around Paris, make her the envy of all women. C'mon, she is your wife"

"She's not my wife," I stated firmly, meeting Jason's gaze. His face turned pale.

"What...what are you talking about?" Jason stuttered. "I know you kept her hidden before the wedding, but to deny her altogether? That's not like you." He said, as I shut my eyes for a while.

"Jason, have I ever kept secrets from you?" I asked, and I could see the understanding dawn on his face.

"Michael, is this for real?" Jason whispered, his voice barely audible.

"She's a stranger, Jason. Our marriage is fake. We'll keep up the charade for six months, and then I'll divorce her. It's all just a temporary arrangement. I don't love her," I explained.

Jason's eyes widened as he sank into the chair, his gaze fixed on me in stunned silence.