Chapter 7 - THE WIFE'S SECRET
1708 Words
JENSYN
“So this is what it felt like to be a rich man's wife.” I smiled as I stared at my reflection.
The woman who blinked back didn't look like me. She was polished, controlled. The jewelry that adored her hand glittered with pride. The toned dress she wore hugged her figure like it belonged to her the moment it was made.
She didn't look like Jensyn Sawyer. I… didn't look like this.
But that was the plan, wasn’t it? Make me look like his wife.
Linden had briefed me a dozen times, “you will tell them the lie you told my dad. A chance boat meeting. You fell in love quickly. This must be a follow up news to cover up the s**t that says I'm gay.”
“Well, they are not wrong.” I replied to him and he remained silent before leaving the room.
Why… Why did Linden not act like men in books? I thought men were supposed to smirk and laugh with their eyes, this was the typical description used in books. But Linden Rawlings would never act like that.
He just wanted me to act. I had been acting for years—pretending to be the characters in my books, smiling at clients who repulsed me, flirting for tips, pretending I wasn’t crumbling inside. I could do this. I had to do this.
Because somewhere out there, my mother was still hooked up to tubes I couldn’t afford. And Linden Rawlings was still the only man I had met that could make sure she survived.
I walked into the hotel lounge with my chin high. The interview had already started filming. Cameras, light, and Him. Linden. He wore a black suit that clung to his body like his second skin. He looked too tender as he took my hands.
I sat beside him on a velvet couch, folding my hands in my lap like the virtuous woman would.
The interviewer smiled like she was in on the fairytale couple. “You two make such a striking couple. Tell us—how did you meet?”
Linden glanced at me, his expression soft. I waited a little longer before answering. “We met on a boat cruise…” I paused, trying to remember what I had told Arthur just yesterday. “I was out on a vacation and we met.”
“She wasn't supposed to be there.” Linden added smoothly. “And I just let her be. She wasn't willing to leave the boat. We had what you would call a one-night-stand and the next day, we couldn't let go of ourselves.”
The host laughed like it was charming. “Love at first sight?”
Linden's hand slid to rest on the small of my back. “It's an obsession at first glance,” he stated. “She didn't even want to talk to me. I had to force her to do that. I knew what I wanted and I went for it.”
A nervous chuckle left my throat. I played along, nodding slightly. “He’s very persuasive.”
Really. He was. I felt his hand tighten slightly in response.
“So, when did you know you were in love?” The interviewer pressed.
I stared at him, stunned, not sure what to say. My lips parted, then closed again. Linden came to my rescue. “She got drunk the first night we met and told me her whole life story and I didn't judge her one bit.”
He looked at me, eyes dark as if he wanted to reveal more disturbing news.
“When she woke up the next day, she realised she couldn't do without me.”
I smiled, the kind of smile that hides the urge to scream your lungs out.
“That’s… beautiful,” the interviewer gushed. “And now, the wedding’s just tomorrow. We were expecting you to be married to Susanne Hallison. What happened?”
Linden leaned closer to the camera, his smile dark like a knife bathed in blood. “I never gave the media any news that I would be getting married. It's from Susanne Hallison, the same woman who circulated the news that I was gay. What more could you expect from her?”
The interviewer looked at both of us and my throat tightened. I barely managed to smile again.
“That's something to hold onto.” With more questions coming in, the constant reminder I got was that tomorrow was the wedding day.
Like… I would actually be married with no family member with me? Who gets married like that? I only had my mother, but she was sick. Arthur had asked about them and I dismissed the questions.
No one would forget it, all right. I was the one married to Linden Rawlings. In one year, I would be the ‘former’ wife.
This told me that by the end of this charade… One of us would end up destroyed.
***
The moment we stepped out of the interview room and the cameras began to click, I felt more overwhelmed.
Linden’s hand slid from the small of my back like the curtain call after a show. It had no warmth in it. He led me out rigidly like a bodyguard.
“You did well,” he said without looking at me, already scrolling through his phone. His eyes widened when he read something and he smiled. “Woah, this is better than I expected.”
“This is better than I expected”, I mimicked his words in my head. Such an arrogant human being.
He led me into the hotel hallway where the paparazzi were, and all I could see amidst the clicks here and there were magazine stands, wedding ads, and some people struggling to see who Linden's wife was.
This wasn’t real. But it looked real now—too real.
Linden left me in the hands of his assistant and went to answer the paparazzi questions. I took out my phone and began to scroll through f*******:. That was when I saw it.
The news had spread like wildfire.
® BREAKING: Billionaire Linden Rawlings Reveals Mystery Bride in Exclusive Interview!
® Whirlwind Romance or Secret Scandal? Fans React to Billionaire’s Wife Sudden Rise to Fame.
® Rawlings’ Romantic Past Erased? Fiancée’s Identity Finally Unveiled—and She’s Not Who We Expected.
I scrolled through the headlines, my fingers shaking. Photos of Linden and me on the couch, his hand on my back. My smile was wide, yet I knew it was uncertain.
The comments were analysing my posture, my facial expressions, and my past.
> She looks beautiful though. Good luck to them.
> Anyone else think she's too quiet for Linden? She answers like a slow person.
> f**k off. She looks like a creep.
> b***h is giving gold digger vibes.
The bad comments were more than the good ones. I wasn't used to something like this and it made me want to run over to where Linden stood with the paparazzi and shout at all of them.
They didn't even know me well enough to judge me.
One user posted a blurry picture of me outside a hospital. Another dug up an old photo of me in a dress too short one would call it an underwear.
I locked my phone and lowered my head. What more could they find?
What if they… what if they found that? My only secret.
I was an escort. If they found out, all these would be pointless.
Linden came to meet me moments later and he led me into a room in the hotel where he served us wine. “Gosh, baby, you are trending.”
I turned to him, heart pounding. “They’re calling me a gold-digger. I think you like that, huh?’
He raised an eyebrow, completely taken aback. “You are a billionaire's wife, what were you expecting?”
I stared at him. “This isn’t just gossip. They’re digging. One wrong post, one missed lie, and this whole thing falls apart. What if they find out that I was an escort? What happens then?”
“They wouldn't.”
“How are you sure, huh?”
“Chill, Jensyn. Nothing would happen.”
I wanted to slap the glass of wine out of his hand. Instead, I whispered, “I’m not made for this.”
Linden stepped closer, voice low and sharp like a knife. “You want your mother alive, don’t you?”
I froze.
“You want the treatments to keep going? The nurses paid? Then you’ll keep playing your part.” His eyes dragged across my face. “And you’ll smile for them. Because now, you’re the face of my story. I didn't agree to give you 3% of my share…”
“It's okay, alright? It's okay. Every time: ‘3%’, ‘3%’, it's okay. I hear you. I'm not deaf.”
He slowly left the room and I sank into the chair, my head in my hands. This wouldn't lead anywhere good at all. I couldn't do this without breaking a sweat.
Because about ten minutes later, Linden dashed into the room like a hare, his eyes wide with horror, his hands shaking, and his body tense.
“Jensyn…” he whispered.
My eyes trailed him, I didn't understand what happened. “What is it?”
He came closer into the room and gave me his phone. I took it with trembling hands and when I saw the picture that had made Linden so tense, I dropped the phone.
The phone hit the tiled floor with a thud facing up, the back suffered the impact and the shame of what had terrified me stared back at me.
“That… that isn't me, Linden,” I stammered, my hands shaking. “That's not my picture. I don't even know that man.”
That was a lie. I knew the man.
The picture I saw was a nude version of me entangled in the arms of one of the clients I worked with in the past.
I was only in my panties as the man's large arms covers my breasts.
- Writer
