Chapter 3

 "I… I don't even know how to pretend to be your girlfriend," I muttered, with the feeling of panic bubbling up inside me. "What if I mess it up? What if….."

 "You won't," Michael said firmly. "Just stay close, don't say anything, and let me handle the rest." 

 Before I could protest, Michael stepped forward, placing a hand on the lower side of my back. The touch was light, but it sent a jolt of electricity through me, grounding me in the reality of the situation. "I can't believe we are doing this"I thought inside me as we walked out together, pretending to be a couple. 

 As we moved through the restaurant, heads turned. The whispers grew louder and louder, and I could almost feel the weight of every single gaze on me. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment, so I looked down trying to avoid their gazes while wishing that I could just disappear or that the ground could just open up and swallow me.

 Michael, on the other hand, was walking with the confidence of someone who had dealt with situations far worse than this. His posture looked straight and his expression calm. To anyone watching, he appeared completely in control. 

 By the time we reached the entrance of the luxurious restaurant where I had just had the worst day of my life, a valet opened the door for us. A sleek black car was waiting for us outside with it engine quietly humming looking like a million bucks. 

 Michael gestured to me to walk toward the car, with his hand still firmly on my back. "Get in," he said quietly while opening the door for me. 

 I hesitated for a moment as I felt the enormity of the situation crashing down on me. But there was absolutely no turning back now. My choice had unfortunately been made.

 With a shaky breath, I slid into the passenger seat. Michael followed , settling into the driver's seat and started the car without a word. The engine gave a humming sound as we pulled away from the restaurant, leaving the whispers and stares behind. 

 For a few minutes, we drove in silence, the tension between us which was thick and suffocating. I looked out the window, watching the city lights and people blur past with my mind in a state of chaotic mess. What have i gotten myself into? 

 Finally, Michael broke the silence. "We need to lay some ground rules." 

 I turned my head slightly away from the window, still keeping my gaze on it. "Ground rules?" 

 "Yes, ground rules. If we're going to pull this off, we need to be clear on a few things. First, no talking about my brother. As far as anyone knows, he doesn't exist. You're with me, not him." 

 I frowned at the sound of that. "But what about—" 

 "No," Michael interrupted with a sharp tone. "I'm serious. You want to make this work, then you forget about Liam. He's not part of this equation." 

 I bit my lower lip, unsure of how to respond. Liam was the reason I was in this mess to begin with, but Michael's hostility toward him was as clear as day. There was absolutely no point in arguing. At least not yet. 

 "Fine," i murmured, my voice sounding barely above a whisper. 

 "Second," Michael continued in a steady voice, "you follow my lead. In public, we act like we've been together for a while. You don't contradict me, and you don't draw attention to anything that might seem off. Got it?" 

 I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. This wasn't just a temporary fix. This was going to be a carefully orchestrated charade, and I would have to play my part perfectly. 

 "And lastly," Michael said with his voice softening slightly, "we keep this as short as possible. The sooner we get through this, the better for both of us." 

 An air silence hung between us with the gravity of the situation sinking in. I know that this wasn't going to be easy. Pretending to be Michael Hartley's girlfriend was one thing, but doing it while pregnant with his twin brother's baby? That is really something else entirely. 

 But for now, I have no choice. I just have to play along to get myself from this mess that I have gotten into. 

 The car engine hummed quietly filling the tense silence between us. My pulse was racing so fast while I kept my eyes glued to the passing scenery outside, hoping it would distract me from the storm brewing inside me. 

 Due to the car moving so fast, the city lights looked blurry and I could feel it casting flickers of light on my face as I gripped the handle of my seat. The scenario that just happened started sinking in , piece by piece. 

 Michael's voice cuts through the silence, sharp but calmer than before. "You're scared." 

 It didn't feel like a question, more of an observation. I feel my chest tightening, but I refuse to let him see my fear. Not now, not ever. "I'm not scared. Just… overwhelmed." 

 "Good," he muttered under his breath while locking his eyes on the road ahead. "Fear makes people sloppy. You don't have room to mess up now." 

 "Is that supposed to be reassuring?" I asked, glancing at him for the first time since we left the restaurant. 

 He didn't look at me, but there was something unrelenting about his focus, the rigid line of his jaw betraying the calmness he was obviously trying to project. "I don't do reassurance. I do results. 

 I could feel my stomach churning. Everything about Michael was so polished and composed, but beneath it, I could feel the pressure he is under too. I remember feeling this same way back in the restaurant…..the brief flicker of something unguarded after his girlfriend, Vanessa, left the restaurant. He might be in control right now, but just like me, his world has shifted in ways neither both of us could have predicted. 

 Ever!

 "You talk like this is all just business for you," I murmured while i twisted my fingers together on my lap, interlocking them shabbily. "But it's not, is it? Not really." 

 I noticed as Michael's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he doesn't respond immediately. I feel like his silence is a barrier that I shouldn't cross right now. 

 But I pressed on, unable to stop myself. "I know you're upset about Vanessa. You can't just brush that aside like it doesn't matter." 

 His eyes flickered toward me, finally acknowledging my words. For a moment, I felt like he might want to say something personal, something real. But instead, he opened his mouth to say, "What matters right now is fixing this mess. You want to save yourself from a scandal? So do I. That's all you need to know." 

 I could feel frustration bubbling up inside me. Michael was so so impossible. His calm, cool demeanor grated against my raw emotions. I felt like screaming at him right now, just to tell him that this wasn't just some chess game he could play and walk away from. This is my life. My baby's life. But he had already made it clear as day that feelings don't matter to him, only the outcome did. 

 "Fine," I muttered, turning back toward the window. "If that's how you want to play it." 

 The car turned down a narrow street. The sudden quietness of the residential neighborhood we just entered felt quite unsettling. It feels like miles away from the chaos of the restaurant, but the tension between us still remains heavy. 

 Michael pulled the car to a stop in front of a sleek, modern apartment building. I could see Its glass frontage shimmering under the streetlights, a reflection of the world Michael Hartley inhabits—cold, pristine, and untouchable. 

 For some reason , he doesn't even bother to explain. "We're staying here tonight."