I let out a weary sigh as I watched my mom march into the living room, arms loaded with a stack of magazines. I knew what was coming next. It was our usual routine - the one where she'd bug me about my love life and try to set me up with her friend's son or some random guy she heard about.

"Mom," I called out, trying my best to keep my patience in check. "I need to talk to you about something important."

She placed the magazines carefully on the coffee table, then settled into the couch and looked up at me. "What's on your mind?"

I hesitated for a moment, bracing myself for the conversation ahead. I took a deep breath and then began, my voice surprisingly steady.

"Earlier today I had that job interview," I started, feeling a flutter of nerves in my stomach. "It went well, I think."

Mom's eyes lit up with excitement as she leaned forward, her interest piqued. 

"That's great news!" she exclaimed. "But I have a feeling that's not all you want to talk about."

I nodded, a pang of trepidation coursing through me. 

"You're right," I confirmed. "There's something else I need to tell you."

Mom's expression turned from excited to puzzled, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Okay, I'm just going to come out and say it." 

Mom looked at me expectantly, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"I got married today," I blurted out, feeling a sense of relief mixed with dread at finally getting the words out into the open.

Mom's eyes were wide with disbelief, her voice a disbelieving whisper. "You what?"

I took a deep breath, repeating myself with a firmer tone. "I got married today."

Her eyes widened further, and her voice trembled with surprise as she echoed, "You...you got married?" Her expression was one of shock, and she repeated her question, "To whom?"

"To Rafayel Ortiz," I began, swallowing the nervous lump in my throat.

"He's a wealthy man," I continued, my voice wavering slightly.

Mom's expression twisted with hurt and frustration. "How could you do this? You just met him, and now you're married?” She didn't shout, but her pain echoed in every word, more potent than any scream.

I sighed, knowing the difficult part still lay ahead.

"It's a complex story. It all started one night when I was out with Bianca. We went to a bar, and that's when I met Rafayel."

Mom's face paled at the mention of Rafayel's name, but she allowed me to continue. 

"We spent the night together," I admitted, the words feeling heavy in my mouth. "And the next morning..."

My mom's eyes widened with disbelief. "You slept together on your first night together?! And without condom?"

"I know it was my fault, but it's more complicated than that." I averted my gaze, unable to meet her eyes.

She picked up on my hesitation and pressed further, her voice now softer than before. 

"You don't remember?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her question. 

"It's hard to explain," I said, my voice lowering. "I remember having a few tequilas, and then everything gets fuzzy. I think we, you know... and then the next thing I know, we're signing a marriage contract."

Mom's frown deepened. "You got married while you were drunk?"

I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed by the situation. 

"I know it sounds absurd," I confessed, my voice laced with a hint of unease. "But I genuinely don't recall much from that night. Rafayel, he was the one who brought up the topic of marriage, claiming it was for business reasons."

Mom's face contorted with disappointment and anger as she pressed the issue, her voice a sharp, cutting blade. "So, you married him solely for his wealth?" 

She crossed her arms, her body language mirroring her disapproval. It was clear that she wasn't happy with my explanation.

I squared my shoulders, trying to exude confidence even as my heart wavered. "It's a matter of business. We need the status to stand up against Irene and Grandma."

Mom's forehead creased into a worried frown, and she asked pointedly, "Are you certain you're marrying him solely for the money?" 

I could see the concern etched on her face, her mind swirling with doubts and fears.

"I'm sure," I whispered. 

After a long pause, Mom finally spoke. "I suppose I understand your decision. But I have to say I'm worried about you. Marrying someone for their money isn't the most stable foundation for a marriage."

I nodded, silently agreeing with her words. "I know. But I want to give it a shot. And I promise I'll be careful."

"I hope you don't get hurt," she said at last.

The next day as I was about to start making some toast for breakfast, the doorbell to our apartment rang. My mom hurriedly went to answer it and to my surprise it turned out to be Raymond.

I was caught off guard by Raymond's sudden appearance and shifted awkwardly. 

Raymond stood before me, and I couldn't help but feel puzzled by his sudden appearance. 

I raised an eyebrow and asked, my voice tinged with a hint of incredulity, "Raymond, what brings you here?"

Raymond's demeanor was cool and composed, and he held up the paper bag in his hand. 

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he explained, "Mr. Ortiz sent this as a gift for you, milady."

A mixture of surprise and curiosity flooded me as I processed Raymond's words. My eyebrows shot up in an involuntary reaction, and I found myself wondering why Rafayel had sent me a gift. A subtle sense of intrigue and uncertainty washed over me, my gaze fixed on the paper bag that Raymond held in his hands.

Without a word, I carefully took the paper bags from Raymond and ushered him inside our flat, a hint of stiffness in my movements. Mom followed us, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the mysterious presents.

I asked, "Why did Rafayel send another gift?" 

Raymond's voice was low and composed as he spoke "Mr. Ortiz instructed me to deliver this gift and asked that I bring you over as well."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, curious about what was happening.

"Is something wrong?" I queried.

Raymond responded with a hint of smirk on his face, "Young Master Xavier would like to spend some time with you, Lady." 

I carefully inspected the contents of the paper bags, and my eyes widened with astonishment as I took in the items inside. 

There was a luxurious new phone, its sleek design gleaming up at me from the bag. Alongside it, several smaller bags containing jewelry lay nestled amongst the tissue paper.

I looked up at Raymond, a mix of surprise and disbelief etched on my face. 

"He sent this for me?" I asked, still trying to process the extravagance of the gifts.

Raymond simply nodded, his expression enigmatic as usual.

I picked up the new phone, its weight substantial in my hand. 

"I suppose I should send him a message of thanks," I muttered, already beginning to unpack the phone.

As I was occupied with the new phone, Raymond reached into his bag and pulled out a small paper bag. He extended it toward my mom, his silent cue for her to accept it.

"This is for you, ma'am" he explained simply. "Expensive jewelries, diamond necklaces, quite pricey."

My mom accepted the bag, her eyes scanning the exquisite jewelry within. She was clearly no stranger to high-priced items, her demeanor exuding an air of refinement. 

"Ah, these are quite costly," she murmured, her fingers tracing the contours of a diamond necklace.

"How does mom know so much about expensive jewelry?" I thought to myself, feeling a little out of my depth as I watched my mom examine the jewelry with practiced ease.

I couldn't contain my curiosities, so I spoke up, "How do you know so much about expensive jewelry, Mom?"

Mom replied coolly, "I once worked in a well-known jewelry store. You should go to Rafayel's house now."

I met Mom's eyes, searching for any hint of a lie, but her expression remained unwavering. Her insistence on my leaving to see Rafayel only heightened my sense of unease.

"Is everything okay?" I pressed, my voice laced with worry.

She waved off my concern with a dismissive gesture. 

"It's fine," she reassured me, her tone firm. "Just go, please. Rafayel is waiting."

With a final look at my mom, I relented and allowed Raymond to escort me to Rafayel's luxurious residence. The weight of my mom's strange behavior still lingered on my mind, leaving me with more questions than answers.

As I entered Rafayel's grand residence, I was taken aback by the sudden cry of a young boy echoing through the halls. Raymond, standing beside me, chuckled softly.

"Young Master Xavier was left behind by Mr. Ortiz, and he specifically requested you to keep him company here."

I felt a wave of awkwardness wash over me, as the thought of entertaining a young, energetic child was not something I was entirely prepared for.

The young boy, Xavier, ran up to me, his energy and innocence radiating from him. He clung to my legs, giggling and tugging on my clothing.

"Play with me, Mom!" he demanded, eyes wide and hopeful.

I looked helplessly at Raymond, silently pleading for some guidance.

"You need to do your homework first, young master," he said, his tone firm but gentle.

Xavier pouted, clearly uninterested in the idea of homework. But his attention perked up as I offered my help.

***

The steady chime of the clock, marking the slow march of time, served only to highlight the aching hollowness within me. 

The young boy, Xavier, his energy uncontainable, bounced gleefully on the couch, oblivious to the turmoil brewing behind my forced smile. I had shared snippets of my day, each word a bland echo of the same monotonous story. 

Yet, his eyes remained impossibly wide, his face awash with eager curiosity. Even as I tried to shield him from the truth, the resentful question burned within me - where was Rafayel?

“Mom,” Xavier’s innocent voice pulled me from my troubled thoughts, his wide eyes inquisitive as he continued, “Have you ever played Zenga?”

With a tight smile, I forced myself to respond, “It’s not really my thing, and, sweetie, could you call me by my name, please?”

Xavier's head tilted to the side, a deep furrow creasing his brow. "But Dad always plays Zenga with his friends and if one of them loses, they have to kiss the other person who loses too!"

My eyebrows flew up in surprise as Xavier explained. "They do this in front of you?" 

Xavier merely shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous grin on his face. "Sometimes! It's fun to watch!"

The word "fun" sounded like a mockery in my head. How could anyone find enjoyment in watching their father indulge in behavior that screamed infidelity? A wave of nausea rolled through me, causing me to clutch my stomach. I couldn't bear to stay in this stifling environment for another minute.

I slumped onto the sofa and glanced at the clock, its hands ticking away the minutes with a mocking rhythm, like drops of water from a leaky faucet.

"Mom," Xavier whined yet again, breaking the silence, "can you make some of that spicy tomato soup again?"

The constant repetition of his request was starting to sound like a broken record, driving me insane.

I rolled my eyes at him, tired of his 'mom' routine. "Oh please, I haven't earned the dubious title of looking after a hurricane like you," I retorted.

“Hurricane?” Suddenly, a velvety voice, cool and smooth as aged wine cut through the air, causing both me and Xavier to freeze in our tracks. We both turned in perfect unison towards the source of the voice.

I folded my arms and breathed a sigh of relief as I realized who it was. 

"Oh, Rafayel! You scared the daylights out of me," I exclaimed. "You just arrived with Raymond, huh? You have impeccable timing – I was just about to..."

"About to leave?" Rafayel's velvety voice interjected, a hint of nonchalance in his tone. "Farewell then."

Just as I was about to pull away, his cool, yet gentle fingers closed around my wrist, stopping my escape.

His voice, a low rumble, sent shivers dancing down my spine as he huskily murmured, “Do you really think I'd let you slip away that easily, darling?”

I whirled around, swatting his hand away with more force than necessary. 

"Mr. Rafayel De Ortiz," I snapped, "I've spent hours babysitting your insufferable son. If you can't give me a job, I'd rather be doing something more entertaining than this."

He sighed, his voice tinged with irritation, "What kind of job would you find enjoyable? I only asked you to keep an eye on Xavier until I got back because your real job hasn't quite kicked in yet."

I glared. “W-what?”

"Your work isn't complete yet," he stated decisively, addressing Raymond. "Ensure that Xavier goes to bed. It's getting late."

Raymond complied, making his way upstairs.

Rafayel then shifted his intense gaze back to me, our eyes still locked in a silent battle.

"I don’t want to stay here any longer," I protested. "My mom will give me an earful if I don’t show up at home tonight."

Rafayel flashed me a charming grin, his hands nonchalantly slipped into his pockets as he suggested, “How about telling your mom that you’d rather be with me than Terrell?”

I felt a wave of uneasiness wash over me at his tempting smile. “What do you want?”

He let out a low chuckle and gestured towards the stairs, saying, “Come with me, sweetie.”

“You won’t be able to leave if you refuse,” he threatened.

“And listen carefully, even if you decline, I’ll make sure you never land a gig more enjoyable than the one I handed you.”

“You—”

“Is my message still not clear?” 

“What? You? Seriously?” I asked incredulously.

Rafayel nodded, his eyes gleaming. 

As fear took hold of me, I realized I was in a precarious situation. Despite my reluctance to admit it, I found myself genuinely captivated by Rafayel’s striking oriental features. His breath quickened against my neck.

“What beautiful things,” Rafayel whispered directly into my ear, his hand exploring every inch of my body.

“N-no,” I stammered.

Rafayel grinned, his lips forming a perfect seductive smile.

“You’re really rejecting me? Have you turned down something that could be greatly advantageous to you in favor of a scoundrel who has kept you waiting for his divorce?” Rafayel’s voice was weighty as he whispered, sending shivers down my spine. “We shouldn’t be in the same room,” I whispered back.

“Why not? You need money and protection. I can provide that,” he responded.

“Do you think I’m dangerous?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure—oh damnh—“