Bianca's POV
The reward, the transfer. Everything.
It still shook me.
I stood there in the middle of my room, still barefoot, my phone still in my hand, staring at the screen like it held some secret the world wasn't supposed to know. The numbers, although have been touched, were barely reduced. A huge amount was still sitting in my account.
Real and undeniably mine.
It felt like I was crashing in someone else's dream, a dream where girls like me actually won.
For a moment, I didn't move. My breath was still shaky like one wrong move and I would wake up and everything would turn out fake.
I let out a shaky laugh, small and a little breathless.
Then I smiled.
A real and growing smile.
With both hands, I gently placed my phone down like it was made of glass, like it carried everything about my entire life in it and climbed onto my bed.
Not collapsed. Not dropped. Climbed.
Like I was royal Princess in a castle, and this bed was my throne.
I stretched out on the mattress, arms wide, almost screaming as I stretched. The city lights came faintly on the wall through the cracks of the curtain and for the first time in forever, I let myself feel the freedom.The victory. The relief. The rush.
I had just received more money than I had ever dared to imagine.
And now, I was the fiancée of a billionaire.
Even if it was all just pretend, It was real enough to change my life.
My morning came like a gift wrapped in a nice box for me.
The sun came through the curtains lighting up my room, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel like I had extra weight on my shoulders. I didn't feel hunted or burdened or exhausted by the feeling of trying to survive.
I felt….. new.
I rose from the bed with speed that even startled me, I grabbed my phone, and immediately opened my banking app.
There it was.
Still sitting there frozen.
That massive, life-changing amount.
I exhaled slowly, a small laugh escaping my lips.
It was real.
All of it.
The smell of coffee and carefully prepared food soon filled my apartment. I cleaned up, pulled my hair up into a bun, cooked a quick meal, something simple but hot and just as I sat down to eat, I heard a knock on the door.
But for once, I wasn't annoyed.
I stood, walked over, and opened it and blinked in surprise.
Kenneth.
Looking too damn good this early. With that calm confidence and the warmest smile I didn't know I had missed seeing until I saw it again.
And…I smiled back. I could even feel it, even before I realized I was doing it.
Isaac stood behind him, as tall and sharp as ever, holding a sleek black briefcase.
"Prepare. We're going out," Kenneth said, smooth and direct.
"What?" I asked softly, blinking at his words.
"We're going out," he repeated with a playful tone, "but before then….."
He reached over, took the briefcase from Isaac, and opened it right in front of me.
Inside it were documents.
Official, stamped and legal.
The deal.
I had been so caught up in the relief and the rush of the moment, I had forgotten there were real things attached to this. The real paperwork.
He let me finish my food first, not rushing anything.
Then I signed.
Every page. Every clause. My name on the written on the lines.
Bianca Maddox, soon-to-be fake fiancée.
And when we were done, Kenneth took the document back, his eyes looking through the pages, clearly satisfied. Then he looked back at me, stretched his hand, and said….
"Let's go."
Without another word from me or him, he led me down to the waiting car.
And just like that, we drove off.
He took me to one of those places.
One of the most expensive fashion houses in the city, the kind anyone doesn't just walk into. The kind where the glass doors don't open unless you belong to that certain level. Where the staff look at you like you're royalty, not because you are, but because they know you're paying enough to deserve that treatment.
The moment I stepped inside, I could feel the difference in the air. The feeling was luxurious. The scent in the air wasn't just perfume, it was wealth. The different clothes seemed to glow under the lights, not too flashy, but exclusive. These weren't clothes for just anyone. They were masterpieces and were made for the high class.
As for me? I would have to save for years just to buy a pair of gloves from this place.
Yet here I was with Kenneth.
He leaned toward me and said casually, "Pick anything."
Like it was that simple.
Like I wasn't already okay just being inside this place.
I nodded, trying to act calm and composed and I walked around carefully, choosing just a few outfits, the safe ones, the practical ones. Things I could maybe wear more than once. A dress. A jacket. A pair of heels. Nothing too much, nothing too obvious.
But when I returned with a few clothes in hand, Kenneth scowled at me.
The look on his face was somewhere between "That's it?" and "Are you kidding me?"
Then, without a word, he took the clothes from my hand and handed them off to the attendant near us.
And he started picking.
He pulled things I would never have touched. Seasonal and out-of-season clothes. Coats I had no use for. Dresses too bold for just a sidewalk. Shoes with huge price tags that made me choke on my words.
He picked them all. No hesitation.
I stood there, a little stunned, watching as Kenneth built a wardrobe for me, one I didn't even know I deserved. One cloth at a time, without even turning back to ask if it was too much
Because to him, It wasn't.
After what felt like hours of shopping, with bags full of clothes I never thought I would own, we were back in the car.
Isaac drove with his usual sharp silence, while Kenneth gave a single word from the backseat where we sat "Salon."
I didn't ask any questions.
I was already too deep in this whole shopping to start asking him questions now.
When we arrived at the building, Kenneth didn't come in. He simply just stepped out of the car and opened the door for me like a gentleman, and handed me off to the receptionist like I was some VIP personnel.
The receptionist greeted me with a warm smile, like she knew exactly who I was.
Like she had been expecting me all day.
And then she led me in.
The next hour flew by in a blur, I couldn't even tell what time it was, hair, skin, nails, makeup. Each person that touched and helped me moved like they were working on a masterpiece. I didn't even argue with them, I hadn't chosen anything. I just let them do whatever they wanted.
And when I finally saw myself in the mirror?
I blinked.
Was that me?
I wasn't the tired, stressed girl who ran from shady men in the alleyways and tiptoed around overdue loans I couldn't pay. I was now a woman who looked like she belonged in Kenneth Marcon's world.
Polished and elegant.
When I stepped out of the building, Kenneth was still standing in front of the car. But the moment he saw me, he froze.
Speechless. He stared at me like it was something unbelievable.
I shifted awkwardly from the way he looked at me, until he blinked and moved forward, adjusting his shirt like nothing ever happened.
"I'm sure you had a wonderful time," he said, his voice a little too calm.
I nodded.
Then he looked at me again, more serious this time.
"Well," he continued, "it's time we moved on to the next phase."
I tilted my head slightly, his words not clear the way he said it.
He gave me a knowing look, already expecting I wouldn't understand.
"Meeting my family."