CHAPTER 4: The Devil Wears Prada (And I Wear a Trench Coat)

Sumakay na ako sa maraming sasakyan sa tanang buhay ko—tricycle, jeep, bus, Grab, at yung lumang Toyota Vios ni Jason na laging sira ang aircon.

Pero iba ‘to.

I was sitting inside a Bentley. Not just any Bentley—a black, gleaming beast that probably cost more than the entire subdivision Jason lived in. The seats were made of cream leather so soft I felt guilty sitting on them with my dusty pants. Ang bango. Amoy tagumpay.

"Ma'am, water?" the driver, Manong Bert (he introduced himself politely), asked while handing me a bottle of Evian. Not Absolute. Not Wilkins. Evian.

"Salamat po," I whispered, clutching the bottle like it was holy water.

Binigyan niya rin ako ng sandwich container. Gourmet ham and cheese on brioche. I devoured it in three bites. Bahala na kung mukha akong patay-gutom. Technically, I was patay-gutom.

After thirty minutes of gliding through traffic (seriously, traffic didn't seem to exist for this car), we entered the basement parking of a towering glass skyscraper in BGC. The Valderama Tower.

"Dito po tayo, Ma'am," Manong Bert said, opening the door for me.

Bitbit ko ang maleta ko, sumunod ako sa kanya papunta sa isang private elevator. Walang buttons. He just scanned a key card, and the elevator shot up.

My ears popped.

Ting.

The doors opened directly into... a living room.

Napanganga ako.

This wasn't an office. This was a penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Metro Manila. The furniture was sleek, modern, and predominantly black and grey. It was beautiful, yes, but it felt cold. Like a museum where you’re not allowed to touch anything.

"You're late."

Napatalon ako sa gulat.

Atticus Valderama was standing by the window, his back to me. He was wearing a casual grey sweater and dark slacks—a sharp contrast to the suit he wore in the closet, but he still looked intimidatingly expensive.

Humarap siya. His eyes swept over me, judging.

"Kumain ka na?" he asked, though his tone suggested he was asking if I had been dewormed.

"Oo. Thanks sa sandwich," I replied, gripping the handle of my luggage tighter. "Nice place. Dito ka nakatira?"

"Obviously," he drawled, walking over to a massive black marble kitchen island. "Sit."

He pointed to a bar stool.

Sumunod ako. I sat down, feeling small in my dirty trench coat inside this pristine palace.

"So," I started, trying to sound braver than I felt. "Ano ang plano? You said you wanted to get even. Susunugin ba natin ang kotse ni Jason? Ipa-pulis? Kasi honestly, game ako sa arson right now."

Atticus actually smirked. It was a terrifying sight.

"Arson is petty, Celestina. And jail doesn't suit me."

He poured a glass of red wine and slid it toward me. Then, he placed a thick folder on the counter.

Plak.

"Read it."

Tinignan ko ang folder. "Ano ‘to?"

"Your new life," he said simply.

Binuksan ko ang folder. Unang pahina pa lang, nanlaki na ang mata ko.

MARRIAGE CONTRACT

Party A: Atticus Valderama

Party B: Celestina Mercado

"Marriage contract?!" I squeaked, nearly knocking over the wine glass. "Teka lang! Kakahiwalay ko lang sa asawa ko kaninang umaga! Hindi pa nga annulled, kasal na agad?!"

"Relax," Atticus leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "It’s not a real marriage. It’s a business arrangement."

"Business?"

"My grandfather, the Chairman of Valderama Holdings, is dying," Atticus explained, his voice devoid of emotion. "In his will, he stated that his successor—me—must be a 'family man' to inherit the conglomerate. He thinks single men are reckless. He gave me a deadline until his 80th birthday to settle down."

"Okay..." I processed the information slowly. "And that deadline is...?"

"Next week."

"Next week?!" I choked.

"Veronica was supposed to be the bride," Atticus continued, his eyes darkening at the mention of her name. "It was a strategic alliance. Her family has political connections; I have the money. It was perfect on paper. Until she decided to sleep with your husband."

He took a sip of his own drink. "I cannot marry a woman who cheats. It’s messy. It’s a liability. But I still need a bride to secure my inheritance. If I don't marry, my cousin—who is an idiot, by the way—gets the company."

Tinitigan niya ako. "And that is where you come in."

"Ako?" I pointed to myself. "Bakit ako? Look at me, Atticus! I’m a mess! I’m broke, homeless, and I have a smashed cake in my bag. Why not hire a model? Or an actress?"

"Because models and actresses talk," he said sharply. "And they want love. Or fame."

He walked around the counter and stood in front of me. He leaned in close, his scent invading my senses again.

"I need someone who hates cheating as much as I do. Someone who won't betray me because she knows exactly how much it hurts. Someone who is desperate enough to agree to a crazy deal, but loyal enough to stick to the script."

He tilted his head. "You have nothing, Celestina. Jason took everything. But I can give it back to you. And more."

My heart hammered in my chest. "Anong makukuha ko?"

"One," he raised a finger. "We destroy Jason. I am the majority investor in his company. I can pull my funding tomorrow, bankrupt him, and blacklist him from every industry in the country. Veronica will leave him the moment he’s poor."

Napalunok ako. That sounded... satisfying.

"Two," he raised a second finger. "You get a monthly allowance of 500,000 pesos. You get to live here. You get a new wardrobe. A new car."

"Five hundred thousand..." I whispered.

"Three," he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto mine. "When we divorce after two years—once my position as Chairman is secured—you get 50 million pesos as a settlement f*e."

Fifty. Million. Pesos.

Nahilo ako. Parang gusto kong himatayin.

"Wait, wait, wait," I waved my hands. "Teka lang. Masyadong mabilis. So, I pretend to be your wife. We act sweet in public. We destroy Jason and Veronica. Then after two years, I’m rich?"

"Yes."

"What's the catch?" I asked suspiciously. "There's always a catch."

Atticus’s expression turned serious.

"The catch is, you have to be convincing. My grandfather is sharp. The public is observant. You have to transform from..." he gestured vaguely at my trench coat, "...this, into Mrs. Valderama. You need to be perfect. No clumsiness. No drama. No weakness."

He paused. "And one more rule. Rule number 4 in the contract."

Tinignan ko ulit ang papel.

Rule #4: No emotional attachment. No falling in love.

"I don't do love, Celestina," Atticus said coldly. "Love makes people stupid. Look at what it did to you."

Aray. Sapul.

"Don't worry," I scoffed, hiding the sting. "Pagkatapos ng nangyari kay Jason? Suko na ako sa love. I’m done with men."

"Good. Then we have a deal?"

He handed me a pen. A Montblanc pen that probably cost more than my kidney.

I looked at the contract.

Isang pirma lang. Isang pirma at magbabago ang buhay ko.

Makakaganti ako kay Jason. I could show him that I wasn't just "convenient." I could be powerful. I could be Mrs. Valderama.

I imagined Jason’s face when he sees me on the arm of the man who owns his company. I imagined Veronica’s face when she realizes she lost the billionaire to the "boring housewife."

Determination surged through me.

Wait.

"Question," I asked.

"What?" Atticus looked impatient.

"Paano yung annulment ko kay Jason? I can't marry you if I'm married to him."

Atticus smirked again. He pulled another document from under the folder.

"My lawyers are fast. This is a falsified marriage certificate... kidding," he saw my horrified face and rolled his eyes. "Joke lang. You have no sense of humor."

"Hindi nakakatawa!"

"Actually," he became serious. "I had my team dig into your records while you were on the way here. It turns out, Jason made a mistake. When you got married three years ago, the officiating pastor’s license was expired. Did you know that?"

"H-ha?"

"Your marriage is void from the start, Celestina. Technically, you’ve been single this whole time. Jason was too cheap to hire a legit coordinator, so he hired a fixer. ironically, his cheapness saved you."

My mouth fell open. Void? I wasn't married?

For three years, I served him as a wife, but legally... I was nothing?

A fresh wave of anger hit me. But this time, it wasn't sad anger. It was burning fuel.

"Okay," I said firmly. I grabbed the pen.

"Okay?" Atticus raised an eyebrow.

"I’ll do it. I’ll be your fake wife."

I signed the paper with a flourish. Celestina Mercado.

"No," Atticus corrected, taking the paper. "From now on, you are Celestina Valderama."

He extended his hand. "Welcome to the game, wife."

I looked at his hand. Large, calloused, dangerous. I shook it.

"Pleasure doing business with you, husband."

Just then, my stomach growled. Loudly. Like a dying whale.

Gurrggggle.

The tension in the room snapped.

Atticus stared at my stomach. I stared at the floor, burning with shame.

"Right," Atticus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "First order of business as Mrs. Valderama... let's get you some real food. You can't plot revenge on an empty stomach."

He turned and walked towards the kitchen phone. "I'll order steak."

Pinanood ko siya. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. At least the devil fed his prisoners steak.