Episode 2

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...CHAPTER 2...

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...EMMA RIOS...

I never thought breaking a heart would hurt more than having mine shattered.

But I guess there's a price for selling your soul—and your future—to a millionaire CEO.

That night I returned to my small apartment, that refuge full of half-dead plants and mismatched mugs.

I opened my suitcase and started packing some valuable things for me: my sketchbook, the scarf that Sofia knitted, and that old jacket that still smelled like Martin.

Yes, Martin…

My boyfriend.

My ex, rather.

I had to tell him the truth.

Well, not the whole truth, because clause number ten of the contract said, verbatim, that revealing the agreement implied immediate annulment and a fine that I couldn't pay even by selling my organs.

So I only had one option: to lie.

Cruelly.

"Emma?" Martin's voice made me turn around.

He was standing in the doorway, with a smile on his face.

His shirt still had paint on it; he came straight from the workshop.

He was an artist, an idealist, and… completely the opposite of Leonardo Blake.

"Thanks for coming," I said, trying to sound normal.

"Of course, love, you scared me with the message of… 'We need to talk.' That sounds like… a breakup or pregnancy."

I swallowed.

I wish it was the second. Although with Sofia's expenses, I don't think it's a good idea.

"We can talk in the living room."

He sat on the sofa while I closed the suitcase.

He noticed it.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked, frowning.

"Yes." My voice trembled. "I got… an opportunity."

"Work?"

"Something like that."

He took my hand.

"Emma, if it's for money, I can help you."

I wanted to laugh. Martin barely had enough for himself, but he still offered everything. That was the problem with him: he loved too much.

And I was about to destroy him.

"Martin, there's someone else," I said, quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

His face went blank.

"What?"

"I fell in love with someone else."

The words came out cold, flat, soulless.

Lie number one.

"Since when?" he whispered, as if he needed to hear a logical explanation.

"For a while," I lied again. "All this time, actually. What we had… was nice, but I ended up meeting someone who… made me feel alive."

He stood up slowly.

His jaw was trembling.

"Who?"

The air became heavy.

My throat burned.

"Leonardo Blake," I said finally.

Martin let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"The guy you work for? Please, Emma, that can't be serious."

"It is. I'm with him."

And there, right there, I saw how something inside his eyes went out.

As if he had disconnected all emotion to not collapse in front of me.

"And that's why you're packing your things? Are you going with him?"

I nodded.

"I just… need to start over."

Martin took a deep breath. He approached, his voice broken.

"Is this a joke? Because if it is, it's not funny."

"It's not."

An unbearable silence enveloped us. And then, his voice changed.

"I can't compete with someone like him, can I?" he asked, without looking at me. "Money, cars, power… and you, who always said you hated that world."

I closed my eyes.

If I looked at him for another second, I would break down.

"I'm sorry, Martin."

"No, you're not," he replied, his eyes wet. "If you were, you wouldn't be telling me this like this."

He was right.

But I couldn't let him suspect.

"Just… let me go."

He let out a long sigh, looked at my suitcase and then looked at me, with a sadness that pierced my soul.

"I hope that idiot makes you happy, Emma."

I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

I just waited for him to leave.

And when the door closed, all the air I had been holding in turned into crying.

I collapsed.

There, in the middle of the floor, with my suitcase and my heart shattered.

The next morning, a black car was waiting for me outside. It was so elegant that it made my building look like a joke.

The driver lowered the window.

"Miss Rios?"

I nodded.

As the car drove away, I looked out the window.

Goodbye to my plants, to my favorite mug, to my normal life.

At least for those six months…

Hello, millionaire contract and emotional chaos.

The Blake mansion looked like something out of a movie.

A door so big it could swallow me whole and marble everywhere.

Leonardo was waiting for me at the entrance, impeccable as always.

White shirt, expensive watch and that bitter face he puts on all the time.

"I see you complied," he said, observing my suitcase, "Although I had already told you, not to bring anything, everything new will be given to you here."

"Yes, but they are valuable things for me."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I hope at least it doesn't bring mites."

I rolled my eyes.

"Are you always this charming or do you only get motivated with me?"

"Only with you. You inspire me to be sarcastic."

Great. The chemistry of hell was back.

A couple of assistants approached with dresses, papers and a huge folder.

Leonardo took it and handed it to me.

"Weekly agenda," he said. "Wedding rehearsal tomorrow at ten."

"Rehearsal of what?"

"Of weddings, Rios. You don't think such a big lie is improvised."

I opened the folder and almost choked.

It had everything planned: flowers, list of fake guests, locations for photos and even a script of what I should answer if any journalist asked how we met.

—"We fell in love in the cafeteria on the twenty-third floor." Seriously?"I laughed.

"It works. It's cliche, people love cliches."

"And what if someone asks for details?"

"You say it was magical. Or that I made a bad impression on you. Either one is true."

I couldn't help but smile.

"Wow, Mr. Blake. You have experience in this business of romantic lies."

"You just follow the script and smile."

Hours later, while they were trying on my dress for the rehearsal—the one I finally chose—I looked in the mirror and almost didn't recognize myself.

The dress was white, short, fitted at the waist and with a discreet neckline on the back. It wasn't a wedding dress, but with the new heels and hairstyle, it looked sexy enough for the rehearsal.

Leonardo appeared behind, reflected in the mirror.

"You look… good," Leonardo said, crossing his arms, "Although I think it's too short."

"Too late," I replied, taking my little bag. "If I'm going to pretend I married you, at least I'll do it in style." I stared at him. "Besides… Only good? You're paying me millions, I deserve a"spectacular"."

"Let's not exaggerate, Rios. You still don't know how to walk in heels."

"You know what?" I said, turning to him. "If you're going to be my husband by contract, at least learn to give compliments."

"And if you're going to be my wife, at least learn not to argue about everything."

We stared at each other for a few seconds, so close that I could notice the slight smell of his cologne. And for an instant, the air changed. There was only a silence that later became uncomfortable.

Until he smiled sideways.

"Relax, Rios. It's just a rehearsal."

"Sure," I muttered, looking down. "It's just a rehearsal."

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That night, lying in the bed of the guest room, I tried to convince myself that everything was worth it.

Sofia would be fine. I would have money. Martin… would forget me.

It was only six months.

Six months pretending to be Leonardo Blake's wife.

Six months without falling in love.

Easy, right?

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