‘If she had known that one ruined cake would unravel her entire world, perhaps she would have stayed back and let the rain swallow up the day. But she didn't. She ran instead, not from disaster, but straight into it. Into the moment that would shatter and rewrite every rule she thought she lived by.’

The rain lashed against her skin, cold and punishing.

Thunder roared above like war drums, as if the sky would fall on her.

But Trisha didn't care.

She was too desperate to care.

Her sneakers, thin and worn, squished with every step as she sprinted towards the hospital, clutching a small, square-sized vanilla cake box.

It was her brother Liam's birthday, and she had not remembered early enough to bake him a cake like she had always done in previous years.

The past couple of days had been rough.

But still…

How could she have forgotten?

She burst into the hospital lobby, her soaked clothes and shoes leaving a trail of water and mud behind her as she ran towards the elevators.

She slammed the up button. Nothing. Slammed again. Still nothing.

“Come on…” she muttered in frustration.

It was almost past visiting hours.

The lights above the elevator doors only flickered in protest.

She groaned loudly, “Fine!” and then turned sharply to the stairs.

She began to climb fast, obviously too fast because her wet shoes slipped halfway up and her foot caught the edge of the step.

She fell forward, the cake box flying out of her grip and colliding with someone's chest.

“Oh, no! No, no, no!” Trisha cried out.

She scrambled up and climbed a few more stairs.

“Please no…” She dropped to her knees, trying to gather whatever was left of the mess.

“You sure know how to make an impression,” she heard a deep, amused voice above her.

She looked up and froze as she stared at the most striking figure she had ever seen.

6'4". Sharp jaw. Deep grey eyes. His smooth, perfectly styled hair almost grazing his eyebrows.

He was casually dressed. Wearing a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up enough to expose his tattooed arms.

His scent filled her nostrils. A unique blend of peaches and strawberries.

Odd for a male of his physique.

“I—I’m so sorry. I wasn't looking.” Trisha stammered.

The man's lips curved into an arrogant smirk. “Obviously.”

There was a quiet authority in his voice, calm but impossible to ignore.

Trisha shuddered but doubted it was due to the cold biting angrily at her skin.

“How do we take care of this?” He spoke again.

Trisha's eyes darted to his ruined shirt.

“I—I'm…” Her voice shook. Exhaustion settling on her shoulders.

Her knees still stung from the fall.

“I might know a way,” the man said, slipping a business card into her soiled palms.

His fingers brushed hers briefly, sparking an unwanted feeling in her chest.

“You clearly owe me a new shirt; come by my office in two days and we can discuss.” He said, still wearing a smirk as he walked away.

A new shirt?

Oh God.

Trisha muttered as she stared at his retreating figure.

That shirt probably cost more than her salaries from the last three months put together. Maybe even four!

She looked down at the name on the card, and her stomach dropped.

‘LUCIAN CROSS’

***************

Trisha sat stiffly in the most magnificent office inside the cold glass fortress of Cross Enterprises.

The office was everything like its owner. Intimidating and flawless.

Even its revolving doors seemed to judge her as if they knew she didn't belong there.

She stared at a single sheet laid in front of her.

A marriage proposal.

Boldly written and staring back at her.

Was this his idea of a way?

“I need a wife,” he said bluntly. “A year. Nothing more. It'll help ruin my father's plan of an arranged marriage.”

Trisha stared at him.

Was he being serious?

Amidst the numerous storms she was facing, marriage was the last thing on her mind.

Lucian leaned closer. “That was your younger brother in the intensive ward, right?”

Trisha looked at him.

“How did you know that?”

“Ran a background check on you,” he shrugged.

Trisha's eyes burned as her memory drifted…

“It's cancer. Stage three. Six months at most with due treatments. I'm sorry, Miss Reynolds.”

The doctor's brutal voice had echoed in her head. Over and over as he announced her brother's devastating condition.

Lucian's voice snapped her back to reality. “You need the money, and I need the disguise. The choice is yours.”

Trisha's phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message.

Her face scrunched as she silently read it.

She looked at the payment margin on the paper.

Fifty million dollars.

A whole lot of money.

More than enough to take care of her brother's enormous hospital bills.

More than enough to wipe away every shadow of poverty that clung to her like a stain she could never wash away.

Even more than enough to fund the luxury life she had always dreamed of.

And one signature was all it took.

One year surely wouldn't mean her end.

She took one final look at Lucian.

“Where do I sign?”

Lucian's lips curled into a smirk as he directed her hands.

With one swift movement, her hands wet and trembling, Trisha signed the document.

Lucian kept watching her, his expression unreadable.

‘Desperate. Naive. And willing to do anything for the people she loves.

She is controllable.

She is perfect.

The perfect pawn, the perfect cover, and the perfect prey.

She just didn't know it yet.

He smiled evilly to himself as his bodyguard led her quietly out of the office.

**********

Trisha walked into the local precinct and immediately felt nauseous.

The stench of sweat and unwashed bodies filled the air as the officers scrambled about their work.

She took a seat closer to a small broken window and a middle-aged, plump woman with silver-threaded hair walked up to her and sat down.

Her facial features were covered with wrinkles and fine lines.

The brown Fendi hoodie she wore, faded from many washes, practically begged for freedom.

“You said you would get me out; why am I still in here?” She said to Trisha. A disgusted look on her face.

“I can't do that overnight, Mom.” Trisha answered.

The woman looked at Trisha for more than a while.

“You think I did it, don't you?”

“Mom…”

“Don't you fucking lie to my face! I know you think I did it. You probably want me to rot in here!”

Trisha rose up.

She pinched the sides of her head as she felt a migraine coming.

“I'll find a good lawyer. I'll get you out. Just… a little more time.” With that, she turned and stepped out of the precinct.

Finally able to breathe clean, fresh air.

Her hand unconsciously drifted to her belly, rubbing it gently as she recalled the earlier marriage deal.

Her brother's health condition might have been the driving force behind her decision.

Her mother's case might have greatly affected it too.

But the biggest reason for it?

It was the little baby secretly growing in her womb.

A baby whose father's identity remained a mystery, even to her.

Trisha stepped out of the most luxurious car she had ever ridden in.

Dressed in a red silk designer dress and hat, with sunglasses to match.

“Smile. Everyone's watching.” Lucian said, holding her by the arm and leading her into the conference hall.

Reporters swarmed like bees all around them, their cameras aimed like rifles at them.

‘Don't talk to the media, don't ask questions, and don't answer questions either. You stay on your side of the mansion while performing your wifely duties. Lastly and most importantly, don't ever disobey me.’

He had earlier given her the rules.

Lucian's hand found its way out of her arm and onto her waist.

The sudden movement made Trisha flinch.

The cameras roared to life, taking shots with brutal precision.

“Why the sudden marriage, Mr. Cross?”

“Is she pregnant?”

“Is this just another business deal?”

The questions were endless.

Lucian smiled, compelling Trisha to do the same.

“Our story doesn't have to make sense to anyone. What matters is that we are together and ready to start our lives.” Lucian said, turning his head and placing a small kiss on Trisha's lips.

‘What the—’

“Is this true, ma'am?”

Trisha was still in a daze before realizing the question was meant for her.

“Um…”, Before she could reply, Lucian held her and walked away.

********

Trisha's stomach twisted into knots as Lucian drove them to his family's estate for dinner later that day.

The Cross mansion towered over her, beautiful and terrifying.

Its marble walls were cold enough to turn breath to ice.

Their wealth was lavishly displayed in intricate paintings, massive chandeliers, and silverwares that looked like it cost more than Trisha's entire existence.

Staff bustled in their business. Their movements swift and sharp, like a rehearsed playlet.

Victor Cross, Lucian's father, sat across from them in the enormous glass dining room, his gaze sharp and stoic.

He embodied the effortless elegance of a man who owned empires.

His wife, Lora Cross, was seated beside him, wearing grace and poise like a second skin.

Her eyes glared nonstop at Trisha.

“Women don't seem to know their place these days,” she spoke, still glaring. “You can take the girl out of the slum, but not the slum out of the girl.”

Trisha looked at her. She was so young, probably not very much older than her.

“And some women mistake wealth for class.” Trisha said, almost in a whisper.

The room fell silent.

Lucian's lips twitched in amusement as he looked up at her.

“You're just another social climber who's learned to claw your way up, only faster and dirtier,” Victor Cross seethed, not bothering to hide his disdain. “Just so you know, I don't approve of this marriage.”

He rose abruptly and left the table.

Lora followed him almost immediately, giving Trisha one last glare.

But Trisha had noticed the suspicious glint in Victor's eyes.

The kind that wouldn't let go until they ripped the truth out.

~

Lucian walked Trisha to her wing at the far end of the main building.

“Why did you do that?” She suddenly asked.

“Do what?” His reply was quick.

“Earlier, at the conference. That k…”

“Kiss?” he cut in. “Can't believe you're bothered over that little show,” he retorted.

“That was definitely far from a show. You can't just…”

“Are you standing up to me now, miss?” he said, his eyes narrowing as he moved closer to her.

“I've told you, you don't get to question my actions. Know your place. You play your part, and I'll play mine. Are we clear?”

Trisha looked up at him, and her palms itched to slap off the smug look of anger on his face.

But she knew better.

She lifted her face to his, then breathed, “Of course, sir.”

~

The mansion lay in eerie quietness, save for the chirping of insects outside Trisha's window.

She lay on the exquisite queen-sized bed, rubbing her belly, a gesture that had become instinctive.

Her mind drifted to the earlier conference as she touched her lips where Lucian had kissed her.

It had lasted only a heartbeat, but the weight of it still lingered.

Filling her with dreadful thoughts, thoughts she wouldn't dare name.

Why was he acting so differently all of a sudden?

He’d seemed warm and welcoming at first…

Or so she thought.

A faint sound suddenly jolted her back to reality.

No, not a sound.

Whispers.

She slowly opened the door, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears as Davis's voice floated through the slightly opened door of the adjacent room.

Lucian's personal assistant.

What was he still doing here?

“I doubt she'll last a month,” he whispered. “I'll keep watching them, Elena.”

Elena?

The call ended abruptly.

Trisha slowly jammed her door, praying he hadn't heard.

Her phone suddenly rings, and she quickly moves to reach for it but knocks it down by mistake.

Shit!

She quickly bends over to grab it, little pieces of its broken screen littering the tiled floor.

Her eyes darted to the glass nightstand, as she noticed something unusual.

The tiny blinking of a red light reflecting on the stand.

She bent to look more closely under the bed and her eyes went wide with horror.

A tiny recording camera.

Fitted beneath the bed frame, perfectly hidden.

No one could have easily discovered it.

But she had.

Trisha felt hot and cold at the same time as large beads of sweat slowly formed on her forehead.

How long had it been there?

How much had it seen?

And more importantly…

Who had put it there?

In a flash, she grabbed the nearest object, a jewelry box by her bedside, and hit the camera until it cracked.

Her eyes suddenly turned to the compact wardrobe by her bedside and a chilling thought hit her-

What if that wasn't the only one?

Her phone suddenly buzzed. Startling her further.

One new video.

She clicked it.

And froze.

It was her. Sleeping.

Only then did the realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.

She was being watched.

And whoever it was, wanted her to know.

The morning light seeped through the glass window; a cruel reminder that she had woken up, but in a world that was not hers.

She stood before the large mirror in her bedroom, and her reflection stared back at her, duller and pale.

She had not gotten much sleep.

No. She could not afford to.

Not with a pair of eyes secretly watching her.

“Breakfast is ready,” a maid announced from the doorway.

Trisha took a deep breath, trying to quiet her thoughts. “Be right there.” She voiced out.

Lucian was seated at the far end of the dining room.

His expression was unchanging as he sipped coffee from a mug.

Trisha noticed Victor and Lora's absence.

“You're late,” Lucian said, not looking up.

“I didn't know breakfast came with a timer.” She replied.

“Everything here is timed, Miss. Including appearances. Do I really have to teach you everything?” he said, finally looking up at her.

Trisha ignored his question and took a seat, reaching for a piece of toast.

The smell of eggs suddenly hit her, and her stomach churned as a wave of nausea rolled through her.

Cold sweat broke over her brow as she reached instead for a glass of water, her fingers trembling around it.

She had not taken her pregnancy pills for a while.

And now the morning sickness was making her pay.

She noticed Lucian's calculating eyes on her.

“I'm fine,” she lied quickly. “Just not a breakfast person.”

~

Trisha walked into the Cross's launch party alongside Lucian.

An event Lora had insisted was unmissable.

She wore an expensive red satin dress Lora had equally picked for her, a small note attached to it:

‘A Cross should never look like a pity project.’

Trisha had wanted to burn it.

But she wore it instead.

The endless chatter of rich personalities filled the room like static.

Despite the luxury draped over her, Trisha still felt like an outsider.

“Lucian,” they heard a small voice from behind as a short woman in an equally red flowing dress approached them.

She walked up to Lucian and took his hands. “You came,” she said, beaming.

“Of course. I had to see you,” Lucian replied. Giving her a small hug.

The woman's eyes darted to Trisha. “Is this her?”

Lucian smiled, “Yes, Aunt,” pulling Trisha closer by the waist. Hoping his aunt wouldn't see through the lie.

The woman in turn took Trisha's hand, patting it gently. “I'm so happy for you both.” She said with a wide smile, her aged, yellowing teeth on display, “I'm Elizabeth, Lucian's aunt. But you can call me Ellie. If you ever need anything, anything at all, I'll be here, okay?”

Trisha let out a quiet sigh of relief.

At last, someone who didn't treat her like an outsider.

“Thank you,” Trisha replied. Giving her a small hug too.

She had told no one about the camera incident.

She didn't trust anyone enough.

Not even Lucian.

The music swelled, and the sound of heels clanging on the tiled floor could be heard as some young couples danced around .

Lucian walks up to her and without asking, he takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor.

“I can't…” She started in protest.

“Relax. It's just for the cameras.”

The dance was slow and strained, both moving stiffly at first, Trisha being painfully aware of the crowd , of their eyes.

Lucian pressed lightly at her lower back.

Moving her closer. Too close. Distracting her thoughts.

“You're good at pretending,” she murmured as he brought his face down, closer to her nape. His warm breath fanning her neck.

“So are you,” he replied. The words left his lips in a whisper. Sending shivers down her spine.

His eyes flicked to her lips, just for a second.

Trisha saw the hint of something dark in them, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to blur as the tension between them thickened.

Lucian slowly began to lean in, and heat curled in her lower belly as she slowly parted her lips to meet his.

Then,

He stopped.

His lips hovered at her ear. “Don’t fall for the illusion,” he said. Stepping away from her.

At a distance, Trisha could feel a pair of cold eyes shooting daggers at her.

She looked up and saw her.

Lora.

********

Back at the mansion, Trisha wandered the main building. Her heels silent on the thick carpet as she walked, barely greeting the maids.

Then she saw it.

Victor's office.

It was almost impossible not to recognize, it was distinct from every other room in the house.

She looked around and slowly turned the doorknob.

It was unlocked, dangerously unlocked.

She tiptoed in, her eyes swiftly scanning the dark room.

It was also empty.

Her eyes fell on a phone on the side table–Victor’s.

A chilling message was on its screen:

‘There's something she's not telling. I'll find out what. Be patient. She won't be Mrs. Cross for long.”

She looked at the recipient—‘Elena.’

The name sounded familiar, like a jolt straight through her spine.

Who was she?

She suddenly heard faint footsteps, and she quickly slipped out of the room in a swift, silent dash.

But she hadn't noticed the small red light blinking steadily above the door.

She ran back to her secluded room and lay quietly on the bed.

A soft knock made her get back up almost immediately.

She opened her door to reveal a half-naked Lucian.

His freshly showered scent flooding her senses.

His expression was blank as he handed her a small, fancy purse.

“You left this in the car,” he said.

“Thank you,” Trisha said, reaching for it.

Their fingers slightly brushed each other, and she swallowed hard.

Lucian turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He stopped and turned back to her.

“Do you..wanna come inside?”

“Excuse me?” His voice was laced with amusement.

“I-I don't know… I just… I'm sorry. forget it.”

Lucian took one stride towards her. Closing the space between them

“I've told you, Miss Reynolds, this is all a game. Stop pushing your luck.” He breathed.

“And that kiss…?”

“Was for the cameras,” Lucian murmured. His gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips.

A tight, electric silence hung between them.

Trisha bit her lower lip as she whispered, "Prove it.”

In one swift movement, Lucian closed the gap between them.

His lips descended on hers. Rough, Hot, And Hard.

With a deep urgency that made her heart race.

His tongue slid into her mouth. Devouring her sweetness.

Trisha kissed him back with the same urgency.

Her fingers digging into his bare chest as she pressed her body into his, feeling every hard inch of him.

He grabbed her hips, pressing her further into him. Deepening the kiss.

Trisha moaned in pure ecstasy, sending a pulse of need between her thighs.

Lucian suddenly pulled away, his breath ragged as he cursed, “Damn it!”

He clenched his fists as he turned to leave.

His mind circled back to what had just happened.

Fuck!

He probably had too much to drink at the party.

That kiss was definitely wrong.

And as much as he regretted it,

It had felt so damn good too.