CHAPTER 58: ROMANTIC MUCH?

ALEXIA’S POV

"AAAAAH!"

The ear-piercing scream shattered my peaceful lunchtime, making me instinctively duck under the table like I was in a war zone. My half-eaten sandwich and juice bottle were clutched tightly in my hands, because priorities.

"Uh—what are you doing?" Lucy’s voice came from under the table, her wide eyes blinking at me as she crouched to my level.

I took another bite of my sandwich and mumbled, "You screamed."

That was supposed to explain everything.

See, in my neighborhood growing up, when someone screamed, you didn’t waste time asking questions. You either ducked, hid, or ran.

Option one: Duck—because chances were someone had thrown something, and you definitely didn’t want to get hit.

Option two: Hide—because screaming usually meant the cops were raiding the area, and you didn’t want to be caught up in whatever mess was happening.

Option three: Run—self-explanatory.

So naturally, when Lucy let out that banshee wail, I chose option one.

But no.

There was no danger.

There was no chaos.

There was just Lucy, sitting comfortably in her seat, clutching her phone like it contained the secrets of the universe.

She wasn’t screaming for survival.

She was screaming because of her phone.

I blinked. She blinked back.

Then, with zero warning, she grabbed my wrist and yanked me back up.

"Sit back down, you drama queen," she huffed. "You’re making us look weird."

I was making us look weird?

Says the girl who just shattered the peace of the entire cafeteria over whatever nonsense was on her phone?

Rubbing my forehead, I sighed. "Okay, care to explain why you just nearly gave me a heart attack?"

She shoved the phone in my face.

It was playing a video—a former live press conference.

Aiden’s press conference.

Oh.

So that’s why the stupid jerk brought me food today.

And heck—did he almost fool me with his shamelessly romantic answers.

I chewed slowly, watching as my so-called husband spun a fairy tale romance so convincing that even I had to admit, for a split second, that it almost sounded real.

Almost.

Lucy, however?

She was swooning.

Hands clutched over her heart, eyes twinkling, lips curled into an annoyingly dreamy smile.

"Oh. My. God," she whispered dramatically. "Your husband is so romantic. Alex, you lucky woman."

I stared at her.

She stared back, waiting for me to agree.

I took a sip of my juice, buying myself time to suppress the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes into another dimension.

"Yeah," I said flatly, "real lucky."

I mean, if you call being ambushed into marriage, waking up to ice-cold water on your face every morning, and getting dumped at university like an unwanted package lucky—then sure.

I’m blessed beyond belief.

Lucy, still lost in the fantasy of my nonexistent fairytale romance, replayed Aiden’s words.

"I was the first one to fall for her..."

"She rejected me many times, but I never gave up..."

"She hated rich guys, so I had to hide my identity..."

"When she finally accepted me and my wealth, it was the toughest battle of my life, but so worth it..."

The crowd in the video awwed.

Lucy awwed.

I gagged.

I would’ve choked on my juice if I wasn’t already immune to Aiden’s world-class manipulation skills.

"Alex." Lucy grabbed my hands, looking deeply into my soul. "Be honest with me. Are you secretly living the ultimate love story? C’mon spill girl"

I blinked.

Then, very calmly, I said:

"No."

She frowned. "But—"

"No."

"But he—"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?"

I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. "Lucy, I don’t want to talk about it."

Her gasp was so offended you’d think I just told her puppies weren’t cute.

"He definitely loves you." She pointed at the phone, where Aiden was confidently answering another question.

I glanced at the screen just in time to hear him say, ""She didn’t want an extravagant wedding. She was not happy about the idea of a huge ceremony filled with unnecessary grandeur. She was happy to marry someone she loved and who loved her back."

The audience chuckled.

Lucy squealed.

I stabbed my sandwich with my straw.

"Enjoy me all to himself?" I muttered. "That bastard sleeps on the bed alone in ’our’ room while I take the couch like I have a contagious disease."

Lucy wasn’t listening. She was too busy being starstruck by my fake love life.

I sighed and returned to my sandwich, deciding to just let her have her moment.

I so badly wanted to tell Lucy that the marriage she was practically drooling over didn’t exist. That it was all a big, fat, beautifully wrapped lie. But I couldn’t. Because I had signed a contract—one that explicitly stated that nobody, absolutely nobody, was supposed to know that my marriage was a glorified business arrangement.

Yet, sitting there, watching her swoon over Aiden’s carefully crafted fairy tale, I found it increasingly difficult to play along.

How was I supposed to bat my lashes and gush about my "dreamy husband" when I had just spent the morning being rudely awakened by a splash of cold water? Or when I had to fight him over what qualified as actual food because, according to him, an apple and a banana were a balanced breakfast? Yeah, right.

But now, thanks to his ridiculous press conference and his Oscar-worthy performance of the devoted, love-struck husband, I had an even bigger problem—I had to live up to the world’s expectations of "Mrs. Timberlake."

Great. Just great.

As if dealing with my new, unwanted university life wasn’t bad enough, now I had to navigate the treacherous waters of public scrutiny, whispers in the hallways, and people suddenly looking at me like I was some Cinderella who had bagged a billionaire prince. The pressure was suffocating.

I glanced at Lucy, who was still staring at her phone, replaying the press conference for what had to be the third time, sighing dreamily at every other sentence.

"This is so romantic," she gushed. "The way he talked about you? Alex, I swear I got chills! You’re living in a real-life love story."

A real-life nightmare, more like.

I took a big bite of my sandwich, chewing aggressively to avoid answering. Because, really, what was I supposed to say? That my "devoted" husband probably had an entire PR team writing his lines? That the only time he acted remotely interested in me was when there were cameras around?

Instead, I forced a smile. "Yeah. Aiden sure knows how to—uh—express himself."

Lucy clutched my arm, practically vibrating with excitement. "So, tell me! Is it true? Did he really pretend to be a normal guy just to win you over? Did you actually reject him multiple times before finally giving in? And oh my God, that part where he said he wasn’t ready to share you with kids yet because he wanted to ’enjoy you’ a little longer—ugh, I melted!"

I nearly choked on my juice. Enjoy me? Is that what he said?!

I grabbed Lucy’s phone and scrolled through the transcript of the press conference, my eyes scanning Aiden’s words. And there it was, in bold letters, his shameless declaration of love and devotion.

The audacity of this man.

I wanted to scream. No—I needed to scream. But instead, I took a deep breath and did what any sane person in my situation would do.

I shoved the rest of my sandwich into my mouth and started plotting my revenge.

Because if Aiden Timberlake wanted a perfect, swoon-worthy, fairytale wife in public—then by all means, I’d give him exactly that.

But behind closed doors?

Oh, he was going to regret ever dragging me into this.

The second I stepped into the next class, I knew I was doomed.

The moment I walked in, every single pair of eyes turned to me. And I don’t mean just a casual glance—I mean full-on staring. Some people whispered, others gasped, and a few girls glared at me like I had personally stolen their future husband.

Great. Just great.

They all saw the press conference.

I ignored the murmurs and walked to my seat as casually as I could, but the pressure was suffocating. Lucy, of course, was eating up the attention like a five-star meal. She was practically glowing with excitement as she leaned in and whispered, "Alexia, they’re all talking about you! You’re famous now!"

"Fantastic," I muttered under my breath, sinking into my chair.

Just as I feared, class was torture. I could barely focus on what the professor was saying because every few minutes, someone would turn around to steal another glance at me. My new ridiculously expensive phone buzzed twice, probably from some gossip thread discussing Mrs. Timberlake. I resisted the urge to check. I already knew what people were saying.

’Wow, she really bagged Aiden Timberlake?’

’Do you think she’s actually in love with him or just in it for the money?’

’I bet she trapped him.’

The worst part? I couldn’t even correct them.

By the time class was over, I couldn’t get out fast enough. I shoved my books into my bag and bolted for the door, desperate for fresh air. But just as I made it into the hallway—

I stopped dead in my tracks.

There, leaning casually against the wall like some goddamn movie heartthrob, was my darling husband.

Aiden.

Waiting for me.

In front of everybody.

The entire hallway went silent. A few girls let out small gasps. A guy nearly dropped his books. Even Lucy, who had been babbling nonstop, froze.

I barely had time to process what was happening before Aiden pushed off the wall and started walking toward me.

Oh, hell no.

I panicked. My fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, and I was very much about to choose flight when Aiden suddenly wrapped his arms around me.

I let out a strangled noise of protest as his strong arms pulled me into an overly affectionate embrace.

"What are you doing?!" I whisper-yelled, my face half-smothered against his stupidly expensive suit.

"I did say I’d come for you after classes when I brought you the sandwich and juice," he answered smoothly, smiling like he hadn’t just caused me to have a mini heart attack.

He’s enjoying this.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

The hallway erupted.

Whispers, gasps, and even a few excited squeals filled the air.

"Oh my God, he’s really here for her—"

"They’re so cute together—"

"I can’t believe she actually married him—"

I wanted to die.

Aiden, however, was as relaxed as ever. He took my arm, laced it through his, and started leading me away.

Oh, so this was happening.

The show had begun.

And I was the main act.