أسرار المعلّمة الخصوصية

The first slap didn’t hurt as much as the laughter that followed.

“You should have known your place,” my boyfriend’s mother shouted at me, slowly lowering her hand as if she wanted me to feel every second of the humiliation. “A girl like you was never good enough for my son. I told him but he didn’t listen.”

The restaurant had suddenly gone silent. Drop dead silence. Every pair of eyes were on me, the poor girl who dared to dream big.

I couldn’t be humiliated, at least not this way and definitely not by her. I straightened my back.

“I didn’t come here to be insulted,” I said calmly even though my body was shaking. “I came here because your son asked me to.”

A chair scraped loudly against the floor.

“Asked you to come here?” Daniel laughed as he stood, his arm already around the waist of the woman beside him.” “Don’t flatter yourself Lisa. I brought you here so you would understand.”

Understand.

That the past five years I spent with him meant nothing.

That love was conditional.

That it is a crime to be poor.

Without letting me speak, Daniel said again, pointing at the strange but beautiful woman beside him. “This is Vanessa, my fiancée.”

My vision blurred. My head started ringing as if someone had struck a bell inside my skull.

“You were cheating on me,” I said, not daring to raise my voice. I refused to let them see me break.

Daniel shrugged lightly. “Cheating requires commitment. We were never equals. I only kept you close because you were useful. Now that I have no need of you anymore, I have to let you go. It was good while it lasted.”

That did it.

I picked up the glass of water in front of me and poured it directly on his expensive suit.

Gasps erupted around us.

Before anyone could respond or try to stop me, I turned and walked out of the restaurant with my head held high even though I was breaking down inside.

The rain didn’t care about dignity or heartbreaks. It was pouring heavily.

By the time I reached the bus stop, I was soaked from my head down to my feet with my phone vibrating endlessly in my pocket. I ignored it. I already knew what the messages would say and I knew who was calling.

My phone wouldn’t stop ringing so I brought it out of my pocket to see who wouldn’t let me be. As I already knew, it was my best friend, Jess. I shoved the phone back in my pocket. I wasn’t ready to talk to anybody. I didn’t feel like it. Not now, not tonight.

The hospital smell hit me as soon as I stepped inside. It smelled like antiseptic and despair.

“Miss Brooks?” The nurse called softly. “You need to speak to the billing department but first, let me take you to see the doctor.”

My chest tightened.

The doctor didn’t waste time. “Your mother’s condition is getting worse. She needs surgery and two weeks is all that she has.”

How much do you think it would cost me? I asked, whispering, as if scared to speak.

He slid a paper across the desk.

The numbers stared back at me like a death sentence.

“I’ll figure it out,” I said, fighting back tears.

Outside the office, reality crushed me. Three jobs. No savings. No family.

I really need a miracle.

I slid down against the cold hospital wall and covered my face.

I didn’t cry.

I refused to.

A shadow fell across the floor in front of me.

“You don’t look like someone who is waiting for a miracle,” a male voice said. Calm. Cold. Controlled.

I looked up.

I wasn’t ready for the sight in front of me.

Looking at me was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He was tall with sharp piercing eyes. Dressed in a tailored black suit, his presence was so commanding that it seemed to bend the space around him. He looked like a man who was used to the world moving when he spoke. I couldn’t read his expression.

“I’m not,” I lied, standing up. “If you’re here to offer pity, please don’t. I don’t need it.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, barely but I caught it.

“Good. I despise pity.”

He studied me like I was a problem to be solved.

“My name is Adrian Westwood,” he said. “I need a wife.”

I laughed. A laughter devoid of humor. Very sharp. “I don’t think that is an information I need to know as I can’t see how I can be of any help. Maybe you should try dating apps”

“I’m not looking for romance,” he continued. “I’m offering a contract.”

He held out a folder.

“One year. You will be my wife in name and appearance only. In return, I will pay your mother’s medical expenses and ensure you never worry about money again.”

I stared at him, unable to believe my ears.

My heart pounded but my voice was steady.

“What is the catch?”

“You follow the rules. You don’t fall in love. When the year ends, we both walk away.”

I looked at the folder. I opened it and found a contract, skimming through it. I started at the signature line. At the price of my pride.

I lifted my chin to look at him.

“I’m not a desperate girl you can buy with money.”

Adrian’s gaze didn’t waiver. “No,” he said quietly. “You are a woman who knows exactly what she’s worth.”

Silence stretched between us.

I took the folder.

“Let me be clear,” I said, meeting his eyes. “If I agree to this, I will not be obedient. I will not be invisible and I will not be treated like an accessory.”

For the first time, something flickered in his expression.

Interest.

“Good,” he said. “I don’t tolerate pushovers.”

I exhaled slowly.

“Then draw up the contract,” I said. “Because if I’m selling my freedom…”

I signed my name.

“… I’m doing it on my own terms.”