The Masked Fiancé

She left her father in the living room and walked straight to her room. Her mind was consumed with thoughts about what favor her father might ask of her. It couldn't be anything too bad or harmful, could it? She knew her father loved her deeply. He would never let anything hurt her. Whatever it was, she trusted it was for her own good.

But despite her thoughts, a sense of unease lingered. She felt disconnected, like she couldn’t focus. She couldn’t even decide what to wear. It was already eight in the evening, and Rona had texted, saying they were already at the party. She was the only one missing. With little hesitation, she quickly dressed and rushed out the door, stepping into her car and speeding towards the bar.

When she arrived at the address Rona sent, it was nothing like she expected. The bar was secluded, almost empty. Doubts crept into her mind. Is this really the place? Did I get the address wrong? She checked again, but no, this wasn’t it. The thought of being lost in an unfamiliar place made her stomach churn. She turned her car around, determined to head back, but to her horror, the engine sputtered, and she realized the gas tank was empty. She hadn’t checked it before leaving, and now she was stranded.

Her phone buzzed. It was Rona, calling repeatedly.

"Where are you, Gypsy?!" Rona’s voice blared through the call, drowned out by the loud background music.

"I'm lost..." Gypsy muttered, but before she could say more, the call ended abruptly with a beep. She looked at her phone and realized her battery was nearly dead. Panic set in. She couldn’t ask for help. She couldn’t even reach anyone for guidance. Trapped in this lonely, dark place, she felt the weight of the situation pressing down on her.

She had no choice but to wait—hopeful that someone would pass by.

An hour later, she saw headlights in the distance, a car approaching. Her heart skipped a beat. Desperate, she ran out, waving her arms, hoping to catch the driver’s attention. But the car sped past without slowing. She sank back into her car, feeling the minutes drag on, the silence deafening. Another hour went by, and she checked her watch—it was already 11 PM. Her spirits were low. Would anyone stop? she wondered. Another set of headlights appeared in the distance.

With a surge of hope, she ran out again, and this time, the car slowed to a stop. She rushed up to the window, shouting, "Help me!!"

The window rolled down, and a man stepped out. His face was hidden behind a mask, and the uncertainty she felt made her hesitate. Is he a kidnapper? A murderer? But then her eyes caught the car—an exquisite McLaren Speedtail, sleek and powerful, its value beyond anything she could imagine. A $2.24 million price tag for a car that could reach 250 miles per hour. It was the fastest McLaren ever made, and she knew instantly the man behind the wheel was someone wealthy, someone who stood with an air of confidence and power.

The man’s voice broke through her thoughts. "What’s the problem, miss?"

She swallowed her fear, her voice trembling. "I... I need a ride. If it’s alright with you?"

Without hesitation, the man nodded and opened the passenger door. She climbed into the car, relieved to finally escape the darkness of the night. The engine roared to life as the man put the car in motion. She tried to steady her breathing, still unsure of who this stranger was or what his intentions might be. But at that moment, all she wanted was to leave that desolate place behind. The whole ride is so silent. The driver was focused on the road. And she's stealing a glance to a man. Wondering why the this man wearing a mask? 

"Why are you wearing a mask?" She couldn’t stop herself from asking.

"Mind your own business," he replied coldly.

She fell silent, too taken aback by his aloofness. But despite his rude response, she still felt thankful that he had helped her. Before she realized it, they had already arrived at her house. She never told him where she lived—so how did he know? Was he stalking her? A spy? Or maybe an assassin?

"What are you waiting for? Get out. We're here," he said, his tone impatient.

Without waiting for her to react, he got out of the car and walked toward her house. She stood frozen for a moment, confused. Why was he entering her house? She hadn’t invited him in. Was he going to just barge in? Her thoughts were racing, but she followed him inside, still unsure of what to do.

As she stepped into the living room, she was greeted by the sight of her parents and several guests. And there, in the middle of the conversation with her father, was the man who had helped her earlier.

One of the older women sitting nearby noticed her. She smiled at Gypsy, and Gypsy smiled back politely.

"Favio, that must be your daughter," the woman said, looking at her father. Her father’s eyes turned toward her, and for a moment, she saw his gaze darken. His eyes swept over her—from head to toe—before narrowing. She suddenly felt self-conscious. Her outfit, which had seemed fine for a casual night out, now felt completely inappropriate. It was the same outfit she had planned to wear to the party that had been ruined by her own foolishness.

"Gypsy, come here," her father ordered.

Reluctantly, she walked over to him. He grabbed her arm and led her away from the living room, away from the guests.

"I thought you were resting. But look at you! Still out there partying? Look at your outfit—what will the guests think? They’ll think you’re not a proper lady," he scolded her, his voice trembling with barely contained anger.

"You're my only daughter, Gypsy. I want the best for you. You need to settle down now," he added, trying to keep his composure.

"Sorry, Dad," she whispered, feeling a knot tighten in her chest.

"It’s fine. Go fix yourself in your room. After that, come down and join the guests," he said more calmly, though his disappointment was clear.

Gypsy nodded, trying to suppress the swirl of emotions inside her. She headed to her room to change into something more presentable, something that would make her father proud.

After a while, she came down, her appearance more dignified, and joined the group of guests in the living room.

"So, Favio, merging our companies is the best choice for the future of our children," one of the guests was saying.

"I thought so too," her father agreed, the conversation lighthearted and filled with laughter. The two of them seemed to be enjoying the discussion, clearly satisfied with their business relationship.

"Gypsy, my daughter, come here," her mother called out, motioning for her to sit beside her. Across from her, she noticed the masked man, the one who had helped her.

"Hi, Gypsy," the guest said, a smile on her face. "I’ve heard so many things about you. And you’re so pretty," she complimented her. She didn’t know if she meant the rumors about her. She simply smiled back, unsure of how to respond.

"Lily, that’s so obvious. Of course, she takes after me," her mother proudly said, clearly basking in the attention.

"Let me introduce myself, Gypsy. I’m Lily Mortel, your future mother-in-law," the woman said with a playful tone.

Future mother-in-law? Gypsy’s heart dropped. She turned to her mother, confusion written all over her face.

"What does that mean, Mom?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"You're getting engaged to Drake Mortel!" her mother beamed, as if it was the best news in the world. The joy was evident in her mother’s expression, in the way her face lit up. But Gypsy was frozen. She had no idea how to react. She felt a mixture of confusion and shock bubbling inside her.

She didn’t want to cause a scene. She didn’t want to embarrass her parents in front of their guests. So, she hid her confusion behind a forced smile, trying to mask the emotions she couldn’t control.

But deep inside, her mind was racing. Engaged? To him? She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready for marriage. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to speak up. How could she, when everything around her seemed to be set in stone?

She felt more and more uncomfortable as the man in front of her, the one with the mask, kept glancing at her. Though his face was hidden, his presence was overwhelming. There was something about him—his posture, his demeanor, his aura—that screamed authority. He was intimidating. His physical presence alone was enough to make her feel like she was melting under his gaze.

Even though she was trying her hardest not to react, she couldn’t deny the pull she felt towards him. Was it attraction? Or something else?

But she refused to show it. After all, who could blame him for staring? She was beautiful, after all. No one could resist her charm. Twenty exes, and yet here I am—still trying to figure things out.

"Ija, this is my son, Drake Mortel, your fiancé," Mrs. Mortel introduced her son with a smile.

"Nice meeting you, Drake," she extended her hand for a handshake, but to her surprise, he didn’t accept it. Her blood boiled with embarrassment as he just looked at her coldly, raising an eyebrow. The nerve of him. Was he angry because of the lies she had told, pretending to be his girlfriend? She awkwardly dropped her hand, her cheeks burning, especially with everyone watching.

"Drake!" Mrs. Mortel’s voice broke the tension, and it seemed like she was not pleased with her son’s behavior.

Drake merely shrugged and acted like nothing had happened.

"Please, be patient with my son, Ija. Don’t worry, he’s a good guy," Mrs. Mortel said reassuringly, but Gypsy could tell from Drake’s actions that he wasn’t fond of her. She could feel it in the way he treated her—distant and cold.

She knew this was all about the marriage, the merger between their families. It felt like Drake was forced into this, pushed to marry her for the sake of business. If he didn’t want her, then fine. She wasn’t the type to beg anyone. If he didn’t want this, she wouldn’t make him, but it still stung.

Everything about the engagement had been decided. The wedding was already planned. But their parents didn’t want to pressure them, so they decided to push the wedding until after her graduation. There were still a few months left before that happened, and during that time, she had learned a few things about her family’s past dealings with the Mortels. To her shock, her father and Drake’s father were close friends. They had arranged the marriage years ago, but when the Mortels suddenly disappeared for ten years, Gypsy’s father had thought the deal was forgotten. But when her mother heard of the Mortel name again, she seized the opportunity to settle the long-forgotten arrangement. And now, here they were, in the middle of it all.

Her father had mentioned that the "settling" he had been talking about was her marriage to Drake.

It was already 2 AM, and Gypsy was exhausted. She couldn’t understand why the discussions about the marriage had to happen so late at night. She excused herself, saying she needed to get some air. She couldn’t relate to the conversations between their parents. The night air was cold, and she was thankful for the brief respite outside.

Her skin tingled when she felt someone’s arms brush against her. She turned around, startled, only to find Drake standing there.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice betraying the nervousness she felt.

"Nothing. I just wanted to keep you company," he replied in his deep, rich voice. There was something magnetic about the way he spoke, something that sent a shiver down her spine. His gaze was intense, and for some reason, she couldn’t look away. Despite the mask covering his face, his charisma was undeniable.

He was so close that it made her feel like she was losing control. She’d never experienced this before with any other man. His presence alone made her feel things she had never felt. And even though she tried to resist it, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

She didn’t want to seem shy, so she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. At first, he was taken aback by her boldness, but soon, he reciprocated, his hands roaming as their kiss deepened. It was intense, passionate. The cold night air seemed to disappear as their bodies grew warmer. She couldn’t deny that she was enjoying the sensations he was giving her, but just as quickly as it had started, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and wanting more.

She couldn’t sleep that night, replaying the events in her mind. She couldn’t believe she was the one who made the first move. But, surprisingly, she didn’t regret it. If anything, she was proud of herself for taking control. And the fact that Drake had kissed her back made her feel like she had done something right. After all, he was her fiancé now. What was the harm?

The next morning, things went back to normal. Her parents left for the States, and she thought her father would stay in the Philippines for a month, but since everything was settled, they changed their plans. She was left alone again. How lonely it felt, living in her own house, without anyone to talk to.

The first day of her OJT at the hospital owned by her best friend, Melissa Ichari, was a blur. It wasn’t physically tiring, more like an orientation, so she wasn’t exhausted, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of being alone.

Melissa, on the other hand, was hardly ever around. Her family owned the hospital, so she often skipped out on her shifts to focus on her modeling career. Melissa could easily fake the number of hours she worked, but Gypsy was determined to learn. She really wanted to pursue a career in medicine after she graduated with her degree in Biology, and she had no time for distractions.

There was no time for hanging out with friends. No time for boyfriends. The kiss with Drake was still fresh in her mind, but he hadn’t made any effort to contact her since then. She wondered when she would see him again. Night after night, she thought about the kiss they shared and couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be in his arms again.

She couldn’t deny that there was something special about that kiss. Was it love at first kiss? Or maybe love at first hearing his name? She recalled the first time she heard his name at Jed’s party, and since then, Drake had been on her mind constantly. She even asked her parents why he hadn’t contacted her. They simply said that he wouldn’t bother her until after she graduated. She needed to focus on her OJT. Besides, he was her fiancé, so there was nothing to worry about.

But she couldn’t help feeling frustrated. She wanted Drake with her. She wanted him to accompany her, like the other boys she used to date. She was used to getting whatever she wanted, and she had plans to make this relationship work. Drake was the man she had been waiting for—her perfect match. She believed that he would fall for her the way other boys had.

But for now, she had to wait. She needed to graduate first. It would take a few months, and it would be tough, but she could handle it. No boyfriends. No hanging out. Just OJT and staying home. It sounded boring, but it was the life she had to live for now.

Maybe this was the beginning of something new. Maybe it was time for Gypsy, the playgirl, to say goodbye and start a new version of herself.