White was the first thing Charlene saw when she slowly opened her eyes.
She blinked, trying to focus, but nothing around her felt familiar. The ceiling lights were bright and cold, reflecting off the polished floor and making her dizziness worse. She tried to sit up—but immediately clutched her head as the world began to spin.
"Ow…" she whispered, closing her eyes again as nausea washed over her.
A moment later, she looked around. The room was clean and quiet, filled with the sharp scent of medicine and antiseptic. An IV stand stood beside her bed, along with an oxygen tank and a softly blinking monitor. Medical charts and anatomy posters lined the walls.
She was in a hospital.
But how had she gotten here? And who had brought her?
Her heart began to race as unease crept in.
The door opened and a nurse entered, holding a clipboard. She walked over and checked Charlene's vitals.
"What happened?" Charlene asked, confusion thick in her voice.
"You fainted, ma'am. Severe hunger and exhaustion," the nurse explained gently. "Fortunately, Mr. Wang brought you here in time."
Charlene's eyes widened.
"Mr. Wang?"
"Yes. But don't worry—you're stable now and should be able to leave later today."
"Oh… okay. Thank you," Charlene replied, still uneasy.
After giving her a few reminders—drink water, don't walk alone, don't rush—the nurse left, and silence returned.
Her stomach growled loudly.
She was starving.
Just then, the door opened again.
A man in dark sunglasses entered, carrying several containers of food. He was dressed entirely in black, moving with precise, almost mechanical control.
"The food is here, miss," he said coolly.
He set three dishes on the small table beside her. The aroma hit her instantly—steamed rice, grilled meat, and hot soup. Her senses came alive, hunger roaring through her body.
"Is… is this for me?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yes, miss."
"I didn't order this—and I don't have money—"
"No payment is required. Mr. Wang ordered it. You are to eat. You will meet him later."
"Mr. Wang?" Charlene frowned. "I don't even know a Mr. Wang. Maybe you have the wrong room—"
"He will arrive shortly. Please eat."
Too hungry to argue, Charlene ate. She barely realized she had finished nearly everything.
Then the door opened again.
Her eyes widened.
It was him—the man who had almost hit her with his car.
The air instantly grew tense.
"Are you done?" he asked, glancing at the empty plates.
"What are you doing here?!" Charlene snapped.
"That's how you thank someone for saving your life?" he replied dryly.
"You brought me here?" she asked quietly.
"Obviously."
He turned to his bodyguard, Edgar, who silently cleared the table and left.
The man stepped forward and extended his hand.
"My name is Kerill Wang. You may call me Mr. Wang."
Charlene stared at his hand but didn't take it.
"I have a proposal for you."
"A proposal?" she repeated.
"Edgar. The papers."
A contract was placed on the bed.
"Sign it. You will be my temporary wife for ninety days. All your expenses will be covered."
Charlene's eyes widened as she read.
"One million pesos?" she whispered.
"Be my fake wife."
"Are you insane?!"
"Temporarily," he said calmly. "Don't make me beg."
"You must be crazy," she muttered, getting off the bed. "I'm leaving."
"Charlene Rosarios. Born August 19, 1996. From Pasi, Iloilo."
She froze.
"I know everything about you. Even your secrets."
"You investigated me?!" she shouted.
"I need to know my fake wife."
"Never! I'll sue you!"
"Is a million not enough?"
"Keep it!" she snapped, storming out.
Kerill exhaled slowly, staring at the door.
"This won't be the last time we meet," he murmured.