Chapter 3: Terms and Conditions

The ink from the Montblanc fountain pen felt heavy as Mariana signed her full name on the final page—Mariana Santos.

With each stroke of the nib, she felt a piece of her independence slipping away. She slammed the pen onto the polished mahogany desk, the sharp click echoing in the quiet room.

"Satisfied, Mr. Montenegro?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alejandro picked up the contract, taking his time to inspect her signature. Satisfied with the neat script, he placed it back into his leather folder and closed it with a soft thud.

"Very," he said calmly. "The legal department has already been instructed to halt all proceedings against your brother. The five-million-peso liability is officially cleared, and the release documents for your mother's property will be delivered to your hands by tomorrow afternoon."

Mariana let out a long, shaky breath. The suffocating weight on her chest loosened slightly, but the reality of what she had just agreed to settled in like a thick fog.

"Now," Alex continued, stepping toward his desk and pulling out a second, smaller document, "we establish the ground rules."

Mariana scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Of course. Because a binding fake-engagement contract isn't enough—we need house rules."

"We do," Alex replied, ignoring her sarcasm. "If we are going to convince my grandfather's private investigators, the media, and my board of directors that we are madly in love, our story must be airtight. Rule number one: Absolute Confidentiality. No one—not your brother, not your mother, and certainly not your friends at Arcadia—can know the true nature of this agreement."

"So I have to lie to my own family?" Mariana asked, her voice tight with disbelief.

"You tell them we reconnected recently, started dating in secret, and decided to take the next step," Alex said smoothly. "If your brother finds out you traded yourself for his mistake, his pride will ruin everything. Am I wrong?"

Mariana opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat. He was right. Inigo’s guilt would drive him to do something foolish.

"Fine," she muttered bitterly. "What else?"

"Rule number two: Public Displays of Affection. In public, you are my devoted fiancée. That means holding hands, soft looks, and total alignment when we are in front of my family or the press. In private, we maintain complete personal boundaries."

"Gladly," Mariana shot back. "I’m not interested in touching you any more than I have to."

"Good. That brings us to Rule number three: Co-habitation." Alex slid a set of sleek, silver keycards across the table toward her. "You move into my penthouse at the Grand Hyatt Residences in BGC this weekend."

Mariana froze, staring at the metallic cards glowing under the desk lamp. "Move in? You can't be serious. People live together when they're... when they're actually engaged!"

"Which is precisely why you must move in," Alex said, leaning his hands on the desk and tilting his head slightly. "My grandfather’s scouts monitor my residence. If we live separately, the charade falls apart before it even begins. You will have your own private suite within the penthouse. I have no interest in invading your privacy, Miss Santos, nor do I intend to make this uncomfortable for you—beyond what is necessary for our mutual survival."

Mariana stared at the keycards. Moving into a luxury BGC penthouse with the man who had tormented her academic career and mocked her professional designs felt like entering the lion's den.

"I have conditions of my own," Mariana said, leaning forward to match his gaze. "If I’m moving in, I keep my job at Arcadia. I am an architect, Alex. I won't turn into a trophy fiancée who sits around sipping matcha lattes all day while you play corporate dictator."

Alex’s lips twitched—a fleeting, almost imperceptible trace of amusement. "Granted. Your career remains intact. Though you will still have forty-eight hours to fix that resort pitch."

Mariana glared at him. "It doesn't need fixing. It needs a client with actual taste."

"We'll see on Wednesday," Alex replied, unimpressed. "Pack your bags by Saturday morning. My driver, Kuya Bert, will pick you up from your house in Quezon City at eight sharp."

He gestured toward the double doors, signaling that their meeting was over.

Mariana grabbed the keycards from the desk, shoving them into her tote bag alongside her drawing pencils and notes. She walked toward the exit, but stopped at the threshold, turning her head back toward him.

"You know, Alejandro... three years ago, I thought you were just a heartless professor who took pleasure in crushing students' dreams," Mariana said, her tone quiet and sharp. "Now I realize you're just a lonely man who uses money to buy the things he can't earn."

Without waiting for his response, she pulled open the oak door and stepped out into the quiet hall, leaving Alejandro Montenegro alone with the silent city skyline.