CHAPTER SIX- SHE IS…

LEO’S POV

I was not expecting to see Helen here, in a variety show, to sign a contract marriage after disappearing for eight years. Coincidence or not, I don’t know what to call it. My phone rang in my pocket, and I declined the call without bothering to check the caller ID. My father had been furious after realizing I had ignored his advice, and I knew he was already planning his next move.

So many thoughts raced through my mind as I saw Helen seated right across from me in an emerald dress. I could sense Rachel’s piercing gaze on both of us, and I quickly snapped out of it to introduce myself. If anyone noticed the tension, it would be just me, Helen, and Rachel.

After the interview for the variety show, I went to make a call and heard someone approaching me from behind. I already knew who it was.

“Leo, I feel so happy to see you, although I did not expect that we would meet here,” Helen said, plastering a fake smile on her face, the same one Rachel always used while talking to me.

“I doubt that,” I said, keeping a blank face.

“So, are you getting married for real, or is it just for the show?” she asked, her tone trying to sound seductive. Her actions irritated me, and her question only made my anger boil. I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my composure.

“I see no reason why I should answer that,” I said coldly. Suddenly, we both heard the sound of heels in the distance, and our heads snapped in that direction. We couldn't see who it was, but a tiny feeling told me it was *her*.

I knew it would be better for the public to know about my past relationship with Helen than for Rachel to find out because she would use whatever she could to get rid of me.

“Stay out of my sight, and I would appreciate it if you don’t meet me in private like this,” I commanded Helen, who looked disbelieving that I spoke to her in such a tone. Her eyes widened, and her fake smile faltered.

I left to join the other cast members as we were taken to the mansion where, as I heard, all the couples would be staying together. Drew called us in for a meeting where he explicitly restated the rules in the document between the cast and the staff of the variety show. I couldn’t remember any of it. My mind was elsewhere.

All I could think of at that moment was how I seemed to be wasting my time on this variety show instead of being productive. But my plan was to beat Rachel at her own game. Whatever she was aiming for, she would not get it.

After the briefing, the staff began making videos and tracking us. I seriously didn’t know whether I was supposed to act or be myself. I made a mental note never to appear on a variety show again.

Each couple entered their own car, and for the first time in history, I was seated in the back seat together with Rachel. Her face was tight with irritation, mirroring my own. I could feel the tension radiating off her in waves, and it took all my self-control not to snap at her. We are certainly not pleased with each other.

But we had to mask it as the camera was on us. She put on a fake, sheepish smile while I struggled to smile. Her smile was so forced that I could almost hear her saying beneath it, “I hate you.” I had no choice but to plaster a fake grin on my face as well. We did not chat or communicate throughout the ride, unlike the other couples who I assumed were chatting non-stop.

The car came to a halt in front of a gigantic mansion, and we stepped out of the car just like the other couples. As I predicted, they were clinging onto each other, and I saw them as jobless.

“You know, we will be the most hated couple on this variety show if we don’t act like married couples,” Rachel whispered slowly once the camera was away from us for a moment.

“Who suggested this idea in the first place?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Who made me suggest this in the first place? I wouldn’t be doing this if you had just allowed me to win the award as the top mall in Las Vegas,” she said, and I rolled my eyes, putting back the fake grin once the camera was on us again.

As we walked towards the mansion, Rachel stopped, and I noticed her legs appeared to be injured inside the heels.

“Ah!” she said as the camera was still on us. She looked at me, signaling me to do something.

“Hmm,” I muttered, hoping she wasn't expecting me to be a gentleman. I turned around only to see the other couples watching us.

I put back the fake sheepish smile and scooted a little closer, removing the handkerchief from my pocket and tying it around her ankle where she appeared to be injured. I adjusted the strap of her heels, and the other couples were like, “Whoa,” much to my dismay. I hissed inwardly.

I would never understand women. Why wear heels that hurt in the first place? I got back up, and she beamed me a fake thank-you smile.

We entered the mansion, and it was quite fabulous and nice. We were each given an apartment in the mansion to stay, but the grand hall was made up of a sitting room and a dining area. There were gaming areas, swimming pools, gyms, to mention a few—not that I was interested in any of it.

But where the problem lay was that each couple was given an apartment to share.

“What?!” we both exclaimed, forgetting that the camera was on us when we realized we would be sharing the same section—an apartment consisting of a small sitting room, a bedroom, and a kitchen.

Me? In the same room with Rachel? Who is going to come out alive? These questions rang in my mind like a bell as I turned to see her expression. Her face looked even more horrified.