The Engagement Announcement

Amara had barely stepped inside her family's house when her phone began ringing.

It was Adrian.

She considered ignoring the call, but remembered their agreement. No more convenient omissions.

"Hello?"

"Have you arrived home safely?" he asked.

"Yes. Why?"

"We need to discuss tomorrow's announcement."

"What announcement?"

A brief silence followed.

"Our engagement."

Amara froze beside the doorway.

Our what?"

"The public announcement. My communications team has prepared a statement, and the family expects us to attend dinner tomorrow evening."

"Wait. You mean people are going to know we're getting married?"

"They'll know we're engaged. We'll announce the wedding date afterward."

She pressed her fingers against her forehead.

"Adrian, we signed the agreement yesterday. Yesterday! And now you want me standing in front of cameras pretending to be your future wife?"

"You are my future wife."

"Legally, we're not married yet!"

"Which is why the announcement will describe you as my fiancée."

Amara closed her eyes.

This man was going to be the death of her.

"Could you at least warn me before making decisions that affect my entire life?"

"I thought Camille had explained the schedule."

"Camille explained the contract. She didn't tell me I'd be introduced to the entire country as your fiancée before I'd even learned your favorite color."

"My favorite color is black."

"Of course it is."

She heard something faintly resembling a laugh on the other end.

"Tomorrow at six," Adrian continued. "I'll have a dress delivered to your house."

"No."

"No?"

have clothes. I'll choose what to wear."

"Fine. The car will arrive at five."

"Five-thirty."

"Five-fifteen."

"Five-thirty, Adrian."

A pause.

"Five-thirty."

She ended the call before he could negotiate another detail.

From the kitchen, her mother called, "Sino 'yon?"

Amara walked inside and dropped into a chair.

"My future husband."

Lydia nearly dropped the plate she was holding.

"Your what?"

The following evening, Amara stood in front of her bedroom mirror, wearing a midnight-blue dress she had bought months earlier for a client event.

It wasn't designer clothing, but it fit perfectly. She paired it with simple earrings and her mother's old bracelet.

Her mother watched from the doorway, eyes shining.

"Ang ganda mo, anak."

Amara smiled nervously. "Sana hindi halatang gusto kong tumakbo."

"Then don't run. Walk with your head held high."

At five-thirty, a black car arrived.

During the drive, Amara watched the city pass through the window. Her hands were cold, and she kept rehearsing possible answers to questions from reporters.

Why did you fall in love with Adrian Monteverde?

How did you meet?

What attracted you to him?

She almost laughed.

His ability to pay two million pesos.

That would certainly make an interesting headline.

When the car reached the Monteverde residence, several photographers were already gathered outside. Bright flashes illuminated the entrance.

Amara's stomach tightened.

Adrian waited at the top of the steps in a black suit.

He looked annoyingly perfect.

His eyes moved over her dress before returning to her face.

"You look beautiful."

She blinked, caught off guard.

"Thank you. You look like you're attending your own funeral."

"That's encouraging."

"Just trying to make you feel welcome."

He offered his arm.

"Ready?"

"No. Let's go."

She slipped her hand through his arm, and together they entered the mansion.

The dining room was filled with elegantly dressed guests. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, and a long table displayed dishes Amara couldn't identify.

A silver-haired woman approached them.

"Adrian, finally. You've kept everyone waiting."This is Amara Villanueva," Adrian said. "My fiancée."

The woman examined Amara from head to toe.

"I'm Margaret Monteverde, Adrian's aunt."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Margaret offered a thin smile.

"I hope you understand the responsibilities that come with our family name."

Before Amara could respond, a man entered the room.

He looked older than Adrian, with neatly combed hair and a charming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well, well. So this is the woman who finally convinced Adrian to settle down."

"Sebastian," Adrian said coldly.

Congratulations. You must be very special to capture my cousin's attention."

Amara shook his hand.

"Or perhaps your cousin simply needed someone who could tolerate him."

A few guests laughed.

Adrian turned toward her, visibly surprised.

Sebastian's smile tightened before he recovered.

"I like her already."

"I'm sure you'll survive that disappointment," Amara replied sweetly.

For the first time that evening, Adrian genuinely smiled.

It was brief, but she saw it.

And annoyingly, she liked it.

Dinner began with polite conversation and questions about Amara's career. Some

Sebastian extended his hand to Amara.guests appeared genuinely curious. Others seemed to be evaluating whether she belonged at the table.

Then Margaret set down her fork.

"Amara, dear, how did you and Adrian meet?"

The table grew quiet.

Amara felt Adrian's arm brush against hers beneath the table.

They had prepared an explanation: a professional introduction that developed into a personal connection.

She lifted her chin.

"We met through a mutual professional contact."

"And when did you fall in love?"

Amara's heart stumbled.

Before she could answer, Adrian spoke.We prefer to keep the private details of our relationship private."

Margaret raised an eyebrow.

"How mysterious."

"How convenient," Sebastian added.

Adrian's expression turned cold.

"Is there a problem?"

"None at all. I'm simply curious about your sudden change of heart."

The atmosphere tightened.

Amara realized this engagement wasn't merely a public performance. It was a battlefield, and everyone at the table had their own reasons for watching them.

Later, Adrian escorted her onto the terrace, away from the guests.

"You handled that well," he said.

But you didn't."

She looked at him. "Your family doesn't seem particularly happy about me."

"Some of them aren't happy about anything."

"Comforting."

He leaned against the railing.

"Tomorrow, the announcement goes public. There will be questions, rumors, and probably criticism. You don't have to answer everything."

Amara studied his profile beneath the terrace lights.

"And if they ask whether I love you?"

His gaze met hers.

"Tell them what you think is appropriate."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Amara looked toward the city.

Tomorrow, strangers would judge her, gossip about her, and decide whether she deserved the Monteverde name.

She had entered this arrangement to save her family.

She hadn't expected to discover how expensive a surname could be.

"I nearly choked on my water."