Chapter 3 Chapter 2

Jessica

"Oh, you don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

"There's a weird post breaking the internet lately. A billionaire had requested a mail-order bride."

I raise my brow. "In this day and age?"

"I know right?" Stephanie giggles. "Couldn't he just go to tinder or something? Well, according to the post, interested participants should send in their applications."

"Is it real though?" I ask and Stephanie shrugs.

"I can't be too sure but people are already sending their applications." She clicks her tongue, grimacing. "Rich people do the weirdest things." She mutters before going back to her station.

For the rest of day, I try to push away the conversation I had to the back of my mind but it didn't quite work out. Occasionally I'd catch myself thinking of what it would feel like to be a billionaire's wife. I needed the money, we would be homeless soon. And I'm sure the reason Sophie isn't calling as well is that she needs money as well. By the end of my shift, the thought had taken so much root in my mind, it was hard to shake it off.

My head pounding, I trudge out of the restaurant to a nearby library and walk in. Accessing the internet through their desktops, I find the viral post and confirm its authenticity before accessing my email. Clacking away at the keyboard, I write out my qualifications and fix an appropriate title before stopping to read what I wrote. I let out a bitter laugh, palming my forehead.

This is ridiculous. Why would a billionaire choose someone like me? There's no doubt he would read what I wrote and delete it with immediate effect. It's even taking all the energy I can muster to not delete this as well and run out of this library. If rich people do the weirdest things, poor people do shameless things.

And I've done more brazen things. Dangerous things even. It wouldn't hurt to add this to the pile of things that I've done. That thought set firmly in my head. I take a deep breath and click on send, my heart skipping a beat.

Email sent.

Devon

"Why would you do something like that?"

Chris asks me as he slaps me on the back, and bouts of laughter break out in the table where I'm seated down. Gripping the glass of whisky in my hand very tightly, I try to appear nonchalant as I reply, "Don't know. It was a spur of the moment decision." Chris sneers at me before turning to the rest of the men.

"Hey, did you guys see the post Devon made?" He calls out, his loud voice booming through the entire bar it makes me cringe. The rest of the guys turn to me and grin.

"I did. And I honestly couldn't believe it." Greg spoke up, hands wrapped around the waist of a lady he had picked for the night.

"You guys kept pressuring me to have a girlfriend. So I did the only reasonable thing that came to mind. I did not expect it to blow up." I had a made a post the night before requesting for a mail order bride only for me to wake up this morning and see it had gotten viral. Let's not even talk about the dozens of applications I had received as a result, my phone almost exploded.

"Of course it would, who doesn't want to be the wife of a billionaire?" Greg replied, grinning. "All of this just to get rid of an ex?"

Emptying my glass, I placed it on the table. " I already took it down. By tomorrow, I'll make a post to clear it up. Thank Goodness, I made myself anonymous."

"But the damage has already been done. I'm sure there are thousands of women applications in your email right now. Why don't you have some fun with it? You haven't been with a woman since forever. Always busy with work." Chris says, his eyes glinting.

"Besides if you wanted a girlfriend, you could have just asked. I know a dozen ladies who would be willing to play pretend." Greg seconded, raising his glass at me.

"And have them confess their feelings afterwards? No thanks, I'm not in the mood for any relationship." I tell them. Not after what it did to me years ago. I clench my jaw, not wanting to think about that. Athough I do need one right now because that particular incident is beginning to creep into my life once more, disrupting the peace that I've tried so hard to build.

My head already feeling heavy, I stand up to my feet. "I have to go now. I'll see you later."

"Already? But the night just started!" Chris groans, nudging at me to sit back down. I push away his hand, paying for my drink. Staring at the neon lights flashing around and the increasing crowd in the club, my gaze blurs.

"Maybe another time." I tell him. Once my card is returned to me, I stride out of the club, using the private exit to get out. Stepping out on the entrance, I watch as my car zooms in front of me, my driver already inside. Opening the backseat, I step inside.

"Take me home, please." I say to the driver. He murmurs back his reply and begins to move. Closing my eyes, I lean back on the seat, a sigh escaping my lips. The drive home is listless as I gaze out the window, occasionally checking my phone. Though the post has been taken down, there are people still discussing about it. Then I see something else and it ruins my mood further.

It's a video of me and Evelyn Parker at a fundraising event I attended last week. Apparently the way she had been clinging to me throughout the entire programme had people speculating we were in a relationship. Evelyn was a famous interior designer and the media had made it look like we were close. A wave of anger surges through me and I clench fists. I scroll through the comments and notice she's been active there as well. What part of 'no' does she not understand?

You're not my type, she had said very clearly five years ago when I had caught her cheating. Now she's telling the world that there could be something between us. This has got to be a joke. Throwing the phone back to the seat, I rub my burning eyes

I arrive home and silence greets me. Pulling off my coat and shoes, I turn on the lights easing the strain on my eyes, I trudge to the fridge to get a bottle of water. Emptying the contents in my stomach before going to sit down.

I usually don't mind the silence but today, it's just feels overwhelming. For want of something to do, I turn on my laptop and start to catch up on work. It doesn't take long for me to get distracted though, my mind going back to the past. That usually doesn't end well.

A groan escapes my lips and I begin scrolling through my email, seeing the numerous messages.