CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: The Fake Son

With cameras relentlessly flashing and reporters eagerly scribbling notes, I remain on the platform with a calm facade, though my heart is pounding with nerves. As I speak about the details of my fake pregnancy, my mind is elsewhere, anxiously checking my phone under the tablecloth.

I need Christy to arrive with the orphan soon. Though the weight of my deception continues to press heavily on me, it's too late to falter now.

-Is he here yet?-

I hastily type, my fingers trembling slightly. I hit send and hold my breath, hoping for a positive response.

Just as I finish my speech, a sense of relief thrills through me as Christy appears at the garden's entrance, cradling the precious two-year-old orphan in her arms. My eyes glisten with unshed tears as I watch Christy approach.

With a practiced smile, I wipe away a non-existent tear and beckons Christy forward, subtly gesturing for her to make the child visible in the prying eyes of the media. As Christy reaches the platform, I take a