Chapter 4: From Rags to Riches?

I paused for a moment, trying to analyze what had just left the mouth of this buffoon. I rubbed my temples with my fingers, trying to soothe the headache that was starting to build up as I tried to find any subtle hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“You said that with a smile on your face… so you’re joking, right?” I asked, followed by an awkward chuckle.

“I would have suggested you take some time to think about it,” he continued smugly, as he bluntly ignored my question, “but you really don’t have any choice… do you?”

“Oh, you can’t be serious!” I yelled, snapping back to reality. “I’m pretty sure you’re older than my dad. That’s disgusting! My parents won’t approve of this—”

“Have her kicked out of this institution.” He spoke in a detached manner, devoid of any emotion, as he faced the dean.

The dean paused, his hand motionless above the pile of papers on his desk. He glanced back and forth at us, his typically serious face now covered in doubt.

“Kicked out?” I murmured softly, my voice barely audible. Fear swept over me as I held onto the chair’s edge tightly, my knuckles becoming pale. “This is unfair; you are not allowed to do that.”

He paid no attention to me, focusing his gaze on the dean. “Either do it, or you’ll be searching for a new job by the end of the day,” he ordered, his tone cold and firm.

The dean nervously swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Sir, maybe there’s a different approach we can take with this situation…”

He interrupted him, lowering his voice to a threatening whisper. “I didn’t want your opinion.”

I shuddered as a chill ran down my back under the heavy weight of the situation. This was not an empty warning; I could perceive it in his gaze. I had no options since he had all the cards, and I was stuck.

I felt desperate. I begged, facing him, “Please, there must be an alternative.” “You simply cannot—”

“Take a moment to consider before moving forward.” His words came out as a soft rumble, his eyes narrowing as they stared intensely into mine. “You have no authority to make requests.”

I fought back tears, blinking them away as I refused to show weakness in his presence. I needed to figure out a solution for this problem, but how? I felt like the walls were moving closer, making it hard to breathe, my mind racing as I looked for a way out, any way.

“You are unable to… you are unable to accomplish that!” I spoke suddenly, my voice shaking.

He looked back at me, a slight smile playing at the edge of his mouth, similar to a predator teasing its victim. “I can indeed,” he responded with a calm tone, almost unnervingly calm. “I definitely will, if you don’t choose to work together.”

My fists tightened, my nails dug into my palms. The room had a shrinking, suffocating feel, with walls pressing in on me. I desired to shout, to flee, to do anything except remain seated and heed his conceited requests. “Why am I the chosen one?” I finally murmured, my voice barely audible. “What is the reason for needing my presence?”

He moved closer, his gaze getting darker, as though he was deliberating on what to tell me. “Since,” he began slowly, carefully choosing his words, “you are the only person fit for the role I need.” The perfect age, the perfect look… and most importantly, the perfect amount of desperation.”

I felt a shiver go down my back. I desired to disagree, to resist, but I acknowledged he was correct. The debts of my parents continued to accumulate, and I was unsure of how we would manage to survive the upcoming month. The idea of losing my scholarship, being expelled… was unimaginable. And he was aware of it. He was relying on it.

“What… what are you looking for from me?” I inquired, attempting to maintain a calm tone despite the trembling caused by fear and anger.

His grin grew bigger, revealing the contentment in his gaze. “Really, it’s quite easy,” he responded. “Initially, you will act as my girlfriend for the upcoming couple of months. Participate in some public events, ensure the media witnesses our presence, act out the role effectively. If you do it, you will not only remain in college, but I will also ensure that your family no longer has financial difficulties. Decline, and you will lose all that you have achieved.” My stomach twisted.

“Why do you need a fake girlfriend? And for God’s sake, I’m freaking 20!” I yelled, trying to understand the madness of his proposition.

“Let’s just say,” he replied, leaning back in his chair, “there are people who need to see me… settled. And you, my dear, are the perfect solution to a very inconvenient problem.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in. I knew this was insane—completely, utterly insane. But what choice did I have?

“Fine,” I said, my voice a mere whisper. “I’ll do it.”

I could hardly believe the words had left my mouth. “Fine,” I repeated, a little stronger this time, “but you can’t make this public yet. I need time to… to break it to my parents.” I hesitated, feeling the sting of fear and guilt. “I don’t even know how I’m going to tell them.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that supposed to be my problem?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm, but I could see he was considering it.

“It is if you want me to play my role convincingly,” I shot back, surprising myself with my own boldness. “If my parents find out from the media, they’ll disown me. I need time to explain… or at least to soften the blow.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing whether I was bluffing or not. “Fine,” he said slowly, “I’ll give you two days. After that, I expect you to fully assume the role, no excuses.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, not really feeling any gratitude but knowing it was best not to push him too far.

“Now,” he continued, leaning forward and tapping his fingers on the desk, “write down your address. I’ll send a driver to pick you up later. You’ll need to pack your things—you’re moving in with me.”

“What?” I blurted out, my eyes widening. “You never said anything about moving in!”

He smirked. “You think anyone will believe this engagement if you’re not living with me? The media will be watching closely. Every detail matters, including where you live. Therefore, if you don’t want our agreement to fail on day one, you must live in my house.”

I paused, feeling the truth of the situation wrapping around me like a constricting noose. Living with him… it was overwhelming. Very quick. However, I considered my parents, my scholarship, the opportunities I would miss out on if I didn’t accept.

I hesitantly grabbed a sheet of paper from the dean’s desk and wrote down my address with an unsteady hand. “OK,” I echoed, sensing the word sinking like a boulder in the core of my being. However, this is not permanent. Merely wait… wait until it’s finished.

With a content smile, he accepted the paper from me, folding it neatly before placing it in his pocket. “Sure,” he responded effortlessly. “Only until it’s finished.”

I doubted his tone and the gleam in his eyes hinted that he was already thinking ahead of me. However, there was no alternative. I was already heavily involved.

He rose to his feet, giving his suit jacket a quick pull to straighten it out. “Prepare your belongings. Be prepared by six o’clock. And keep in mind, starting now, you are under my ownership.”

After that, he swiftly left the room, leaving me with the dean who continued to gaze at me with a blend of sympathy and alarm.

I took a deep breath, the weight of my recent decision hitting me suddenly like a wave. 48 hours. I had a couple of days to decide on how to break the news to my parents that their daughter was going to pretend to be engaged to a man old enough to be her father, and possibly the most risky man I had ever encountered.