Chapter 16—Preparing for the Memorial

Dianne stood in front of her wardrobe, her fingers trembling slightly as she pushed hangers aside. She had attended weddings, birthdays, office events—nothing had ever made her this nervous. But walking into the Sinclair mansion pretending to be Roy’s girlfriend?

That was a different story.

She pulled out a simple but elegant wine-colored dress and laid it on the bed. It was modest, classy, and wouldn’t scream I’m trying too hard. Maya walked into the room at that exact moment and eyed the dress.

“That’s the one?” Maya asked, arms folded.

Dianne nodded. “I don’t want to look cheap or too loud.”

“You won’t,” Maya said, softening. She stepped closer and adjusted the neckline. “You’ll look like a woman who knows her worth. That’s what matters.”

Dianne smiled faintly, trying to breathe through her tension.

Roy showed up at Dianne’s door, hands in his pockets, avoiding her eyes.

“Dianne,” he began carefully, “I was thinking… maybe we should go shopping. Get you a few things for the memorial. Something that fits their dress code.”

Her face fell instantly.

“Oh,” she said quietly, a small frown forming. “So what? You don’t think what I have is… good enough?”

Roy blinked, stunned. “What? No—no, that’s not what I meant.”

But Dianne had already crossed her arms, her chest tightening. “It’s okay. I get it. Your family is classy, rich, prestigious. And I’m just—”

“Dianne, stop.”

His voice was firmer this time.

She looked up at him, confused.

Roy stepped closer, his gaze soft but intense. “I didn’t suggest shopping because I’m ashamed of you. I suggested it because I want you to feel comfortable. They’re… a lot. And you deserve to walk in there feeling confident, not worried about whether you fit in.”

Dianne blinked, unsure.

“You’re elegant already,” Roy continued, his tone dropping to something warmer. “More elegant than half the girls they’ve tried to force on me. Including Karen.”

A shadow crossed his face at the name.

“When I walk in there with you, I want them to know you’re with me because you chose to be—not because I had nobody else.”

Slowly, Dianne’s tension eased. Her eyes softened, her shoulders dropping.

“…Okay,” she murmured. “If that’s what you meant, then… fine. Let’s go.”

Roy smiled—small, but real. “That’s exactly what I meant.”

The shopping trip turned out better than she expected. Roy picked pieces with surprising taste—soft dresses, elegant tops, tailored trousers, and a pair of heels Dianne never would’ve chosen for herself.

Afterwards, she went home to start packing. Maya practically dived onto the bed as Dianne emptied her shopping bags.

“Girl! These clothes are giving rich wifey,” Maya declared dramatically, holding up a silk top. “You’re definitely going to turn heads.”

Dianne laughed nervously. “I’m not trying to stand out too much.”

“You’ll stand out anyway,” Maya said confidently. “It’s the Sinclair mansion. But you’ll stand out in a good way.”

They spent almost two hours picking the perfect outfits for the three-day event.

When they were done, Maya nodded approvingly. “You’re ready.”

But Dianne’s heart was still fluttering.

The next morning, Roy arrived early. After loading her bags into the car, they began the long drive out of town. Surprisingly, the journey became lighter than she expected.

They talked about old memories—university days, embarrassing moments, how Maya once tried to cook noodles with milk. They laughed until Dianne forgot she was supposed to be nervous.

A few hours later, Roy slowed the car as they approached a long, private driveway lined with tall palm trees and glowing lanterns.

Dianne’s jaw dropped.

“What… on earth…” she whispered.

At the end of the driveway stood the Sinclair mansion—massive, breathtaking, intimidating. The kind of house you only see in movies. Balconies, marble pillars, ivy-covered walls, and windows that stretched from floor to ceiling.

“Roy,” she whispered, gripping her seatbelt, “this place is… huge.”

Roy exhaled heavily. “Yeah. Welcome to my world.”

He paused.

“It’s not as perfect as it looks.”

But Dianne barely heard him. Her heart was pounding too loud.

She had never felt so small.

And she had never been so aware that, for the next three days, she would be stepping into a life that wasn’t hers… pretending to belong.

The car slowed to a crawl as the Sinclair mansion came into full view.

Dianne felt her breath catch so sharply it hurt.

The mansion wasn’t just big.

It was colossal.

Roy,” she whispered, fingers digging into her seatbelt. “This is—this is not a house. This is a kingdom.”

Roy glanced at her, jaw clenched. “I told you it was big.”

“Big?” She let out a shaky laugh. “Roy, you didn’t say it was a whole dynasty.”

He reached over, gently taking her hand. His thumb brushed her knuckles, grounding her spiraling thoughts.

“Dianne. Look at me.”

She looked.

“You’re not going in there alone. You’re with me. You understand?”

She swallowed. “I… I don’t want to embarrass you.”

His eyes darkened, voice dropping to a low, protective rumble.

“You could never embarrass me. Not here. Not anywhere.”

“But your mum—your family—Karen—”

“Forget Karen.” His tone sharpened like a blade. “Forget anyone who thinks they get to choose my life. You’re here because I want you here.”

Dianne’s heart pulsed hard against her ribs.

Roy squeezed her hand once more, then let go reluctantly as they pulled up to the entrance.

The mansion doors opened before they even parked.

A line of staff waited—drivers, guards, maids, all standing in perfect formation like they’d rehearsed her arrival.

Dianne froze.

“Oh my God… Roy.”

“It’s normal,” he murmured—but his tone was tight, irritated. “Ignore the theatrics.”

A uniformed butler stepped forward instantly to open Dianne’s door.

She felt every eye on her.

Assessing.

Judging.

Measuring her against the Sinclair standard.

Roy came around and placed a hand on her lower back—firm, possessive, reassuring.

“Miss,” the butler greeted with a formal bow. “Welcome to the Sinclair Estate.”

Dianne’s voice died in her throat.

Roy leaned close, whispering, “Breathe.”

She inhaled shakily.

They walked up the steps together, and the enormous double doors swung open to reveal a gleaming foyer—gold accents, glass chandeliers, polished marble so clean she could see her reflection.

Then—

“Roy?”

His mother’s voice sliced through the air.

Elegant. Commanding. Beautiful in that intimidating way only powerful women mastered.

Mrs. Sinclair descended the staircase slowly, each step echoing like judgment.

Roy straightened instantly, jaw tight.

“Mum.”

Her eyes flickered to Dianne.

Just one quick scan from head to toe—and Dianne felt it like a blade.

Sharp.

Cold.

Disapproving.

“Who is this?” Mrs. Sinclair asked, her tone chilly despite the polite smile playing on her lips.

Roy moved slightly in front of Dianne, subtly shielding her. “This is Dianne. The woman I told you about.”

Mrs. Sinclair’s smile vanished.

“Oh,” she said flatly.

Dianne shifted, suddenly wishing the floor would swallow her whole. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” she managed.

Mrs. Sinclair didn’t respond.

Didn’t nod.

Didn’t blink.

Instead, she glanced at her son.

“You brought her here? To the memorial?”

Roy’s voice was smooth but hard as stone. “Yes.”

Mrs. Sinclair’s jaw twitched. “We are honoring your grandfather. This is a family event. Certain… expectations must be met.”

“And she meets them,” Roy replied without hesitation.

His mother’s gaze returned to Dianne—colder this time.

“You must understand, Miss… Dianne, our gatherings follow specific decorum. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

Dianne’s stomach sank.

“I—I’ll do my best.”

Roy stepped closer beside her. “She doesn’t need to do anything. She’s fine.”

Mrs. Sinclair’s eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity and displeasure merging.

“Well,” she said with a tight smile, “we’ll see.”

Dianne’s pulse hammered painfully. She could feel the judgment pressing into her skin, suffocating her.

Roy’s hand found hers.

Warm.

Anchoring.

He leaned in, whispering against her ear.

“I’ve got you. Don’t let her scare you.”

Mrs. Sinclair watched them silently, expression unreadable.

Then she turned.

“Dinner starts in an hour,” she said. “Do try to look… presentable.”

Dianne felt her cheeks burn with humiliation and anger.

Roy’s hand tightened.

“Mum,” he said quietly—dangerously quiet. “Don’t.”

Mrs. Sinclair paused, back still turned.

“You brought her here, Roy,” she said softly. “Don’t expect me to pretend.”

And she walked away.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Dianne finally exhaled, her voice trembling.

“Roy… are you sure I should be here?”

He turned to her, eyes burning with fierce certainty.

“I want you here. And I don’t care who has a problem with it.”

His thumb brushed her cheek—gentle, protective.

“Come on. Let’s go to our room.”

“Our… room?”

He froze.

Realizing the slip.

Dianne’s breath hitched.

“…I mean,” he stammered, clearing his throat, “your room. Guest room. I meant your room.”

She tried not to smile at how flustered he suddenly became.

Even in a mansion full of tension…

Roy Sinclair was losing himself over her.

“Roy,” Dianne whispered, her voice low, almost teasing. “If we’re going to make this whole ‘fake girlfriend’ act work… we should stay in the same room. I don’t mind.”

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You’ll take the couch,” she added with a wink.

Roy’s smile widened, a spark of amusement and warmth in his eyes. “Deal,” he said, shaking his head slightly, “but don’t think I’m letting you have all the fun teasing me.”