CHAPTER 3: FAKE GIRLFRIEND

VERONICA POV

“Rushed to the hospital? Why? What happened to him?”

Mom sobs even harder, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she buries her face in her hands.

“Mom, please… Diana… someone, anyone, say something,” I beg, my voice cracking as I drop to my knees beside them on the cold floor.

Diana wipes her own tears away with the back of her hand, her eyes red and swollen. “Dad’s brain inflammation wasn’t properly treated in the first place.”

She takes a shaky breath. “Earlier today, he woke up feeling severely nauseated… he couldn’t eat anything at all… he just said he wanted to take a quick nap.”

“Mom and I thought it was just stress making him sleep for so many hours… but then when I went to check on him… his hands were ice-cold. For one terrifying second, I thought he was dead… but I pressed my fingers to his neck and found his heart still faintly beating.”

“Mom immediately called 911… they sent an ambulance, and they took him away to the hospital.”

“They called back not long after to tell us…” She trails off, voice breaking, unable to finish.

My heart hammers painfully in my chest. “Told you what?” I ask, my whole body already shaking uncontrollably.

“Th… that Dad has a tumor in his brain…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck… no, hell fucking no. I scream at the top of my lungs, slamming my fists hard against the nearest wall even though the impact sends sharp pain shooting through my knuckles.

“What exactly did they say? Is it curable at all?”

“Yes… it is curable.”

“That’s great news…let’s proceed with treating him right away…”

“That’s exactly the problem,” she says, her voice trembling. “The surgeons say they can’t schedule without a $27,000 deposit and they want it upfront because of hospital policy for major neurosurgery.

My stomach drops.

“So how much is the full payment…?”

“Seventy-five thousand dollars.”

“Oh shit… how on earth are we supposed to afford that huge amount of money?”

“Well… we still have about a month or more to raise the funds… but Dad will remain in the hospital under observation so they can monitor him closely.”

I swallow hard.

Before I could force out another word, my phone buzzed sharply. I fish it out of my pocket with trembling fingers.

The name flashing on the screen: Jason.

The message reads: I heard about your dad. I might have a suggestion though. Come outside. Let's talk in person.

I stand up quickly; legs unsteady and hurry out of the living room without explanation. I push through the front door and step into the cool air.

Jason leans casually against his burgundy

Bentley, arms folded tightly across his chest, looking infuriatingly handsome as usual.

Jesus… I hate how irresistibly good he still looks. But I can’t ever see him the same way again. Not after he called me irrelevant. Fuck him and everything he’s done.

“Why are you here?” I ask, folding my arms.

“Because I can help you.”

“I already know about your dad’s illness. I also know for a fact your family can’t possibly raise that amount of money… but I can.”

My brows furrow. “Is that supposed to be some kind of insult?”

He laughs, low and mocking. “Poor people and having way too much audacity really are best friends.”

I open my mouth to snap something vicious, but the words die—he’s offering help. I have to swallow my self-respect if it means saving my father.

“Wait… are you actually saying you’re going to pay for my dad’s treatment?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“But—”

I cut him off before he could finish. “Oh, let me guess… it comes with a price.”

“Well said, sweetheart.”

“What’s the condition, then?”

“I got an email that my adoptive father is back in Los Angeles.”

Jason says, his voice casual but edged with intent.

“So the board at his company decides to throw him a welcome soirée—a themed, fancy masked affair.

He glances at me, waiting for some kind of reaction. I don’t give him one.

“Anyway,” he continues, scratching the side of his jaw, “I need you to come as my girlfriend. Fake girlfriend. Preferably convincing to avoid rumors.” I stay silent, my throat tight.

“Look, I’ve got this feeling—he’s gonna sign some of the property over right there at the soirée. That’s why the whole production.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Gotta look stable, gotta look like I’ve got my shit together.

“I blink. ‘Why do you need a fake girlfriend when you already have an actual girlfriend who’s pregnant with your child?’”

“Because the media already knows you.”

I blink. “Know me? What do you mean?”

“We’ve been together for five years, Veronica,” he says flatly. “You’ve been beside me long enough for people to assume you’re still relevant in my life.”

My stomach twists.

“To them, you’re still my girlfriend. Bringing Moni into the public suddenly could cause rumors and distractions at the soirée.”

I let out a quiet, hollow laugh.

“So basically you’re using me?”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“That’s exactly what it is.”

He pauses.

“Anyway…I doubt I’d even recognize the old man if I ran into him,” he adds with a lazy shrug. “The last time I saw him, I was barely eight. Everything else I know about him comes from the media.”

His adoptive father is this huge legacy figure almost nobody actually knows. Jason always says the man stays completely anonymous; he hasn’t seen him or even spoken to him in nearly twenty years. That’s how distant he is. But at least he’d hired a mother who actually stuck around and took care of him.

I exhale sharply.

“If that’s it… then I’ll do it. I’ll be your fake girlfriend, Jason.” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper as I force the words out.

Jason’s lips curve into a slow smile. “Oh no Princess, that’s not all.” He pauses, watching my face. “My father leaves LA days after the soirée, but that doesn’t mean our contract ends.”

My stomach twists as he goes on. “Moni and I are getting married soon. After we’re married, I’ll be requesting an open marriage.” He shrugs lightly.

“I want you to drop out of Med school and become my full-time mistress. You know how quickly I get bored of overused pussy.”

I stare at him with my jaw practically on the ground.

“Excuse me? I manage. “You want me to what?”

“Drop out of Med school and become my full-time mistress.”

His gaze drops to my body for a second, then back up, almost thoughtful.

“Your pussy gets so juicy so fast… it always did. Way better than hers. She takes forever—barely gets wet. Always giving the same damn excuse about the air conditioner drying her out.

But I want her anyway. All my friends simp over her, so I have to prove to them I can pull any girl.”

My stomach twists hard. Nausea rises in my throat. I feel small, used, stupid.

“How could you even say that to me?” I snap, anger flaring hot. “You want Moni to suffer in that marriage? Then why the hell are you marrying her in the first place? Do you even hear your ridiculous self?”

A sharp breath leaves me.

“You want her because your friends simp over her? Just to prove some point? What point exactly?”

“Shut up and stop acting like such a hypocrite. Aren’t you a whore already? Who even gave you the right to question me?”

“You have the fucking audacity to call me a whore?”

He doesn’t blink, just holds my gaze, cold and steady.

“Jason… leave my house right now,” I say through clenched teeth, “before I do something that lands me in lifetime imprisonment.”

“I do not want your help.”

“But your family desperately does,” he counters coolly, tilting his head. “Your mom was the one who called me earlier, begging if I could raise the funds.”

My fists clench at my sides.

Argh, God… why did Mom have to call him? I would’ve figured this out on my own. I would’ve raised the funds without Jason.

I wouldn’t be dealing with all this embarrassment if she hadn’t called him.

Even so, I can’t tell her I broke up with Jason. She’d call me ungrateful even after knowing the whole situation. If Dad finds out when he recovers, I’m afraid that would be the absolute worst. He might actually hate me forever or even kick me out.

“Well, I’ve done my part,” he says, straightening. “The ball’s in your court now. When you’ve finally agreed to be my full-time mistress… you know my number. Call me.”

“I will do no such thing.”

He smirks wider, turning toward his car. “Okay baby. I guess I’ll have a funeral to attend in a bit.”

I blink, the threat sinking in cold and heavy. He’s right—I have no other way to get such a huge amount of money in a month.

Sigh.

I have to do this for dad.

I cross my arms tightly over my chest. “If I’m doing this… then I want it on my terms.”

“So, neither of us gets disappointed. I come to the welcome soirée, play the girlfriend in front of everyone…you give me the hospital bill money for my dad upfront. Then, when I choose to be your full-time mistress, you pay the rest. Is that fair?”

“Disappointed? Did I mention I was desperate? Doesn’t matter anyway. Let’s go with your plan—”

“Wait… what?” His eyes snap to my neck, brows shooting up in mock surprise. “What’s that mark on your neck?”

“What mark?”

“Don’t play stupid. Who have you been seeing, Veronica?”

I freeze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of answering.

“Why do you even care, Jason?”

“Because you’re mine,” he says, voice dropping low and possessive as he steps closer. “And you will always be mine.”

I want to laugh at the absurdity and cry from the pain all at once.

“I am not yours anymore, Jason.”

“Then fine. Suit yourself.” He sneers. “Spread your legs wide for whoever wants you—because that’s all you’re good for, whore.”

“I’m not taking that bullshit from you, Jason.” My voice rises. “Don’t you ever call me a whore. I’m not one. You took my virginity, remember?”

“Virginity?” He lets out a low, mocking laugh. “That doesn’t make you special, Veronica. It just made you easier to use.”

My heart hammers so hard I swear it’s trying to punch through my ribs. How could he say that? After five years—after everything—I was just… easier to use?

“Veronica, explain why there’s a fucking hickey on your neck this instant.”

My hand flies up to touch the spot. At that moment, I realize the mark was from my curling iron while getting dressed for the bar.

“Tell me, who have you been seeing?”

“That’s none of your concern,” I retort sharply, yanking my arm back.

“Answer my goddamn question,” he practically yells, grip tightening.

“It’s just my curling iron, Jason,” I say quickly.

He narrows his eyes, jaw clenched. “Do I look like a fool to you? I know a hickey when I see one. You know what? Fuck it. You don’t worth my time.”

He turns abruptly, heading to his car. He grabs a sleek Zara bag from the passenger seat and shoves it toward me.

“This is yours. Wear it when you come to the party. And don’t be late.”

“What about the money for my dad upfront ?” I call after him. “Will you give it to me now, or after I play the fake girlfriend role.?”

“After the role,” he calls out as he pauses halfway into the driver’s seat.