"Nothing is right here in my heart, Jerol." I brat out, tears beginning to fall and I don't know why. "Everything is just a shock, you know? I left home in the morning five days ago, only to find my shop all demolished and all the stock destroyed. That was the only thing that was keeping me sane. My mind and soul got crashed the moment I learnt that I was not going to recover anything. While I dragged myself back home that morning, I got into an accident. I thought that perhaps all my miseries had come to an end. But no. I woke up here, in a strange house with a total stranger, as a wife to someone I don't know at all. And why? Because my own mother sold me. She had found a perfect way of getting rid of the sticking garbage in her house. And now? Now I just learn that my stranger husband is what, a trillionnn.. whatever? This is excellent, right? It's so much okay for all this shit to happen in such a short period of time, right?" I facepalm my face, covering my tearful eyes. I didn't know I was holding so much. I thought I was strongly okay? I know I was strong. So why all this drama? Why do I have to break down like this in front of a stranger?

I feel the familiar arms wrapping around my shoulders, and I let my forehead rest on his chest, keeping my sobs at bay. Oh, dear, what a nice way of showing how broken I am! Like magic, the soothing of his arms rubbing my back calms me down, and I stop sobbing. I pull away, and I start drying the wet parts of his shirt with the back of my hands.

"What do you think you are doing?" He asks, bending backwards, creating space between his chest and my hands.

"Drying up the mess I made on your shirt." I say softly, looking anywhere but his face. I know I look like a mess myself.

A shit, to be precise!

If life was a play, huh? How many twists in just five freaking days?

"Wipe these instead." He says, drying the tears from my eyes, and I get a chance to look at him. "You know, Tessa. I don't know what you went through before our paths crossed. But my advice to you is this. Don't be too hard on yourself. Take this as a second chance to live, and try to be happy in any way that you possibly can."

Well, that was the plan since I cut ties with my mother. It still is. I don't know what just got into me a while ago. I am choosing happiness and peace.

I take the iPad carefully from the table and start taking small steps towards the door.

"You are right," I say to him. "I promise you won't see these tears again for the five months that we will be together. Plus," I stop and half-turn to him, "I bet the wife of a trillion.. trillio... wait, what am I supposed to call that? You are more than a billionaire."

"I am just Jerol, to you, Tessa. The rest isn't important."

"Yeah, right! I will find that out." He smiles. No. Is that a smile or a smirk? "I suppose Jerol's wife should be tough and strong. I will try to level up." I drag my foot again walking forward. "And your smirk is annoying, by the way." I shout, picking up my limping pace again.

"And your limping sucks."

Shit!

Yeah, I know that, you filthy rich jerk! Even my walking style alone can't be anywhere close to being good. What of when I am limping? Anyways, I don't walk to impress, getting where I am going is what matters to me. As long as I can lift my legs from the ground, as long as I can alternate one leg after another, I am good.

I feel him behind me, and he puts his hand on the door nob before I do. I try to turn, but I bump into his face from behind me. Heck!

"What do you think you are doing?" I ask, trying not to turn to him because he is so close.

"We are going to massage that leg of yours because I don't want any mishaps tomorrow. Hold this." He hands me a first aid kit, which I take.

"And who is going to do the massage?"

"Your hubby, of course. Who else?"

"No, thank you. I will do it myself." I reach for the door nob, but before I know it, I am in his arms. I even screamed because I didn't see that coming. "Put me down, Jerol," I say, and I am dead serious about that. But who am I daring? The dare devil himself? He is about to emit fire from his eyes to burn me.

"Open the door." His cold voice echoes through my ears, his icy eyes daring me to say or do otherwise. I twist the nob, opening the door.

He walks out with me bridal style in his arms, while I am dying with embarrassment.

"Does he have to camouflage like this? Jeez! He looks so ugly and scary when he is cold. Is this how rich people behave?" I murmur to myself.

He halts on his feet, gazing at me with a murderous look. His eyebrows are raised, making his semi-almond eyes appear bigger than usual.

"If you say one more word I will drop you and I will not even care about your screams as you roll down these stairs, you hear me?" He speaks way too loud that even the servants in the sitting room heard it.

They all disappear to the kitchen in a hurry, and I am glad there is no one else on the stairway. Does he beat them or why do they fear him so much? What am I even saying? His authoritative and commanding voice is enough to scare anyone.

"Then you will have no fake wife to present to your family and your rich guests tomorrow. I dare you!"

"Shut. Up. Tessa!" He is shutting his eyes tight, speaking between gritted teeth, his lips trembling with anger as he speaks, and I opt to stop my childishness at this point. It's best for me.

"Sorry, hubby. Carry on, please? I won't talk again." I finish, and I lay my head on his chest, as he picks up his pace again.

"Wow, wow! I don't know whether to be proud of my work or be jealous of your beauty madam." My make-up artist says, stepping away from me.

I stand up, to have a good look at the woman in the reflection because I doubt it's really me. My, my, my, Tessa! Is this me? I lift my hand to my face, well polished up with ponds and perfectly made eyebrows. I run my hands smoothly and with care through my styled hair. I guess it's really me, then. Tessa Angeline McCall! At least I'm not that ugly to embarrass my rich handsome husband. Speaking of him, where is he?

"Thank you so much for this. You are really a great makeup artist."

"Well, thank you, madam. I'll take my leave now. Enjoy your day, madam, and if ever you need my services again, I will be happy to lend them to you."

"Thank you. I sure wouldn't look somewhere else. And please, call me Tessa."

"Alright. See you again, Tessa." She walks out, after packing her belongings in her makeup kit, while I am left to admire myself. I don't think even that woman I used to call mother would recognize me if she sees me now. What a transformation! Even my husband might not recognise me.

The door opens, and Jerol walks in, his jaw-dropping on the floor the moment his eyes fell on me. Well, I hope I will impress his guests just the way he is impressed. For a moment, he forgot how to close his mouth and how to blink, and I am sure he is holding his breath too.

"Does this look fit the title, Mrs McCall?" I speak, and his face changes all of a sudden, turning cold.

What is wrong with this guy, though? His mood swings are worse than those of a depressed pregnant woman. Is this how he has been or is something bothering him? He seems so unhappy for a money guru like him. Living in a castle, swimming in all the money and wealth that he has, and not having a nagging wife beside him, shouldn't he be the happiest bachelor? What could be his problem?

"You look just fine. Let's go? They are all waiting, except for my parents but they are on the way." He says, at last, so flat that his words kind of hurt, just a little. I mean, he has a clear picture of what a pest I was a few days ago, and I am also certain that he can see the beautiful transformation, it's not like he is blind. A mare compliment wouldn't cost anything, jeez! He is so mean and stingy when it comes to words. And a pain in the ass when it comes to attitude. I take my purse from the bed, as he walks to me to offer his hand, one thing he is so generous about.

"Just a second." I say before we start walking out, and he stops, turning to me with a frown that says, "what now"? "Don't you at least need to keep a cool face for this to look a bit convincing?" I ask because if this is how we are going to look, it will take just a minute for people to know this is nothing but a show.

He half smiles and opens his mouth to speak. "Don't worry. I want this to look real more than you can imagine. And since I know you didn't read the contract, I will have you know that we are going to do everything that a real married couple does in public. The chemistry between us should both be seen and felt."

"Wait. What do you mean? What else does this entail?"

"Ever heard of romantic hugs, kissing, and don't think I am going overboard when you feel my hand squeezing your thighs under the table."

I don't give a hoot about squeezing my thighs and hugs, I can handle that. Let me get one thing clear about this kissing that is already making my blood cold.

"By kissing, I suppose you mean, a peck here and there?" I am shaking as I ask, my gaze stern in his eyes. Now that we are so close, I think I like the coldness in his eyes. They hold this powerful attraction that is so devilish but weirdly charming. Powerful enough to lure anyone into their dark world. They speak nothing but pure sweet sin. My, he can be such an irresistible charm if only he can work on his attitude.

"And where is the reality of love in a mare peck?" I mean real kissing."

Shoot me!

How on earth am I going to kiss him in public when I have never kissed anyone even in secret?

"Well, I have never kissed anyone. I might embarrass you there." I say, looking away. He lets go of my hand and grabs my purse, throwing it on the bed, and he stands right in front of me. He tilts my head with his finger so that I face him. He studies me for what feels like a decade, and next, he wraps his both hands around my waist, keeping his eyes on me. He closes the small gap between us, erupting fire in my body.

"Your hands on my chest." He orders, and I obey, struggling to maintain eye contact. This is all new to me. Being this close to a man, our bodies touching like this, looking at each other like this, I have never experienced this closeness with a man. That is why I am sure my cheeks are as red as a tomato right now. I don't know where his thoughts have wandered off to just now, leaving his eyes on me, his stare making me uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that I am starting to tremble.

What is he thinking about right now? Or perhaps, who is he thinking about? What is bothering you, Jerol? Why do I feel like behind this cold man is a vulnerable person suffering from the inside? For a man of yours pedigree to be like this, you must be in some deep shit, Jerol.

I pat his chest gently.

"Hubby?" He snaps back from wonderland. "It's not right to zone out on your wife like that, is it?" He smirks, faking a smile.

"Forgive me, my dear wife." He says, rubbing his thumbs playfully on my back.

"So, what's next?" I ask.

His eyes fall on my lips, staring at them for a while. He leans in, levelling his lips with mine but leaving a small gap between our lips, and I tense. He is going to kiss me? I am going to have my first kiss. I feel some Deja Vu. I can't wait to feel the magic of a kiss. I close my eyes, my heart beating ten times its usual, and I wait for his lips to crash on mine.

"Nothing." Instead of him kissing me, he speaks, and I open my eyes, meeting his cold ones. Apart from their usual coldness, there is something else in them, something I can't fathom. Is it guilt? For what? Is it fear? Why? Is it remorse? I don't know. "You will just need to move your lips in rhythm with mine when that happens. But don't worry. I will try to limit the romance as much as possible." I have no words to say to him, so I just nod my head.

He has a demon hunting him, I suppose. He takes my purse from the bed where he threw it some minutes ago, and then he sneaks his hand around my waist, pulling me closer to him. We walk out, him carrying my purse like a romantic hubby, and me walking beside him with a mega smile on my face like the happiest wife in the world. I love this game.

We have spent almost thirty minutes saying hi to guests, and Jerol introducing me to some high-profile people like the CEO of Etiq bank, which is the top and highly rated bank in the country, and the chairmen and managers of the Royal insurance company which is owned by his parents, and some of the managers of the Royal fuel and gas companies which is owned by Jerol, and last but not least, Jerol's close friends who are the total opposite of him. I am tempted to think that this cold side of him just surfaced recently. He couldn't have been able to blend with these talkative jovial guys if he was this icy and temperamental from the start. Anyway, I should stop beating myself over something that is none of my concern. What I am wondering about right now is when we will get to sit down because my ankles are beginning to hurt.

Shit! How do people manage all day with these annoying heels?

"Are you alright?" Jerol asks, pulling us a distance away from the multitude.

"My ankles are beginning to hurt. I don't think I can stand for long."

"Ahh, okay. I don't know why my parents are taking too long. They are the only ones missing. I'll just give them a call. If they are nearby I'll just call everyone to the dinner table, okay?"

I nod my head, and he moves to my side, wrapping an arm around me while fishing his phone from his pocket with the other hand. However, before he could even finish unlocking his phone, a voice from behind startled us, and we turn around.

"Father." Jerol salutes the man whom I presume is in his late sixties, and they embrace in these quick manly hugs that do not last even for a second. They appear not to have so much in common in terms of complexion except for the eyes and jaws. However, that is not a problem in any way. What baffles me is the elegant woman who was lagging behind this man. Her eyes have not left me since she saw me, and I am getting nervous. If it's an assessment she is doing, I highly doubt I will pass. The look she is giving me is not anywhere close to like or approval. It's a look of disapproval...I don't like it.

"Welcome, father. Mother!" Jerol takes a step to hug his mother who glitters with adoration the moment his son speaks to him.

"Hey, son!" She says, enveloping her son in a motherly hug.

If only I knew the feeling, I would be able to know how exactly Jerol is feeling right now in his mother's loving arms. But never did I receive a hug from my mother in my whole life, so, I can only imagine the feeling. It must be sweet.

"Mother, father, I want you to meet someone." He announces after they pull away from the hug that lasted for far too long. He gently pulls me to him, his hand going around my small waist. The four eyes in front of us shoot at me, scaring the hell out of me. One pair of these eyes is open for anything. I can see through them the enthusiasm of knowing who I really am to the man right beside me. But the other pair of eyes is filled with questions, discontent - I bet she is hoping against all hope that I am not what she thinks I am. "I would like you to meet my beautiful wife, Tessa Angeline McCall."

Boom!

My cheeks turn red due to that sweet intro from my fake husband, and the smile that appears on his father's face warms my heart. However, I paralyse the moment my gaze lands on his mother. I knew she wasn't impressed with me for some reason. I guess you can't hide everything with just a makeover, right? She might have sensed something odd behind this beautiful attire and make-ups.

But honestly, does she have to be so harsh and so obvious? She is strangling me with her eyes.

"What a beauty you got for yourself here, son! I didn't know you had such great taste!"

"Oh, come on father!"

"I am dead serious. I am tempted to think that you got her from one of these stupid dating sites because I know you Jerol, you don't have time for anything but work. But then again, her beauty and everything else about her tells me that she is too descent and well reserved for such crap."

"Are you trying to scare my wife away, father?"

"Not at all, son. I am happy that you finally, finally, found your missing rib. Now I see why it took you almost forever, huh? You were mining a gold. Good job son, and welcome to the family my dear." He pulls me for a hug, and after we pull away, he offers me his hand for a handshake. "I am Adriano McCall."

"Ni.. nice meeting you, Mr McCall." I mumble with a broken voice.

"Come on now, my daughter. You are my son's wife, and that practically makes you my daughter. Just call me father, that will make me so proud."

"Well.." I spare a glance at Jerol, and after he slightly nods his head to me as a yes sign, and an assuring smile appears on his face, I turn to his father who still has my hand in his. "Alright. Father. Thank you." He smiles, and I snuggle back to Jerol's arm.

"Sweetheart." He turns to his statue of a wife who looks so bored even before the party begins. "Aren't you going to say anything to your daughter or even your son on this big step he has taken?"

She looks at her husband and fakes a weak smile that is so obvious, and she turns to me, offering her hand. "Welcome, Tessa Angeline.....? Sorry, I didn't get your sir name. What was it again?" She says, and my hand just got hooked on the air by some kind of magic. We stare at each other, our hands waiting for the handshake, her eyes challenging, and her expression growing impatient of waiting for an answer.

"I.. I.." I swallow hard and avoid her eyes for a moment. I don't want to see the look of disappointment in her after what I am about to say, because I can feel it is way below her expectations.

"She is a McCall, mum. That is all there is to know."

Saviour! I was about to grin until her mother challenged me.

"I know that, son. But which family does she come from? Where does she come from? Who are her people? I think I have the right to know, right, son?" Her hand falls on the side of her thigh, the sound of the invaluable bracelets on it being the only sound that can be heard around us.

I look up to Jerol, and from the look of things, his silence and the confusion on his face, I am sure he wasn't expecting this. He looks clueless about what to say, and because I hate lies, I decide to let out the truth. Besides, there is nothing to be ashamed of whether I have a surname or not.

"I don't have a surname, Mrs. McCall. I was just Tessa Angeline before I became a McCall." I say, and her eyes turn cold at once.

"What?" You don't have parents? You never had parents? Who raised you? Where did you grow up? What do you do then? What have you specialized in? Are you...."

"Mom, please! Is this some kind of interrogation or something?" Jerol shouts, cutting his mother off, shocking both his parents with his outburst. I don't know whether to be glad that he came to my rescue before his mother could choke me with her questions, or feel bad for him almost yelling at his mother just to defend me. I'm sure this woman will have more reasons to hate me now.

"Well, I am sorry. But forgive me, son. I just can't accept anyone in this family without a thorough check on their background. This world is full of fake people. People who are experts in nothing but taking advantage of every chance they get. So, who exactly is this woman, Jerol? I need answers."

God, please! I can't be the reason for this family to fight on the first day I meet them.

"This woman, mum, is the woman I love. She is my wife. No more questions and that's final." He tried to remain as calm as he could, but his eyes, they are smoking fire. I reach for his hand, and intertwin our fingers, squeezing it a little in an attempt to calm him a little.

"You are so damn wrong, Jerol, if you think I will accept her that just like that without knowing her real identity. I will do whatever it takes to know her every single detail." She warns.

"Do whatever you want, mother, as long as you don't involve us. Whatever your findings will be, don't bother us with them. Now if you don't mind, we have kept the guests waiting for far too long, and it's getting late. Let's have dinner, please."

We all stroll on the red carpet to the red-themed dining table with white plates and clear glasses well arranged.

After a moment of chit-chatting and inaudible whispers, the servants bring the food to the table. Everyone is teasing Jerol about having a beautiful girlfriend. One even made a joke that he will snatch me away from him, but just one single glare from Jerol was enough to make him take his words back.

The aroma, my God! It's so rich. I swear I have never smelled something so good in my entire life.

"What can I serve you?" Jerol inquires when it's almost our turn to serve ourselves.

I'm almost drooling!

Wait...

What do I know about rich people's foods? Nothing. These people are so complicated in just everything. Chicken to them is not the ordinary chicken the poor people know. They have different kinds of chicken depending on how it's cooked. That is what I learnt from a servant here, and since I can't even differentiate between roasted and grilled chicken, I tell Jerol to serve me whatever he is having.

Soon enough, a plate of chicken and brownish rice that's mouth-watering lay under my nose, and a bowl of soup aside. I run for the piece of chicken on my plate, but before I can lay my hands on them, some clicking sounds startled me.

I look around the table, and that's when it hit me. I am not back in the ghetto where almost everything is eaten with hands. I am with the rich, and distinguished, and I have to behave like them. Jerol must have discovered my distress, and like he said before we left the bedroom earlier, I feel his hand squeezing my thigh under the table, probably asking, "what's up"?, because I am sure I look damn tense.

I look at him, and then at the small knife and fork on my plate, but he gives me a questionable smile.

I clench on the new eating tools and try to prove my fitness in this class of the rich, but I fail miserably. Even holding the small knife properly is an issue, not to talk of cutting the damn meat which seems so slippery for the knife. I try again, and again, and again, until I bitterly take a break, releasing a sigh of frustration.

This is so freaking not my style!