MARRIED FOR TIME

Chapter 4

*Chapter 4:

_Valerie’s POV_

"I should be asking you that exact same question,"he said, his dark eyes narrowing as he leaned back in his chair. The shock on his face vanished in a split second, replaced by his usual cold, impenetrable mask.

I let out a sharp, disbelief-filled scoff, crossing my arms over my emerald silk dress. "Excuse me? This table belongs to my date. I am supposed to be meeting a man named Lan."

He countered with a mocking scoff of his own, gesturing to the candlelit setup. "And this is the table I reserved for _my_ date. A woman named Valerie."

The ridiculousness of the situation hit me all at once. My hands trembled slightly with a mix of anger and confusion as I pulled my phone out of my evening clutch. I brought up the dating app, pulled up Lan’s profile, and hit the call button.

I sat down heavily in the plush chair directly in front of him, my eyes locked onto his face as the line began to ring.

Right on cue, the sharp vibration of a phone shattered the tension at the table.He reached into his tailored jacket, pulled out his device, and silenced the ringing screen.

"Are you serious right now?" I demanded, the anger boiling over in my chest. "Why did you use another guy's profile picture? You completely catfished me!"

He didn’t even flinch. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the white tablecloth with a cynical smirk. "Look who’s talking. You used another person’s profile picture too. You look completely different from whatever photo you put up on that app."

"I had my reasons!" I snapped defensively.

"And I had mine," Bastien cut me off, his voice flat and unyielding.

I narrowed my eyes at him, tapping my manicured nails against the wood of the table. "Fine. But did you lie about anything else on your profile besides the picture?"

He held my gaze, his expression completely unreadable as he leaned back slightly. "Yes. My name isn’t Lan. It’s Bastien."

My heart did a sudden, violent flip in my chest. _Bastien._ As in Bastien Kade. The world’s richest, most famous CEO. The billionaire tycoon whose face dominated every financial magazine, billboard, and news outlet on the planet.

I couldn’t recognize him at first. It only hit me now that I saw the resemblance, maybe because the man in front of me looked hotter and more handsome than the man in the magazines. I felt my jaw start to drop in sheer, unadulterated surprise, but years of maintaining corporate composure kicked in. I caught myself instantly, swallowing the gasp and forcing my features back into a cool, unimpressed mask before he could notice how truly rattled I was by his identity.

"Bastien," I repeated slowly, keeping my voice steady and casual. "Right."

He tilted his head, his dark eyes scanning my face to see if I would react further. When I didn’t, he asked, "What about you? Did you lie about anything else except the fake profile photo?"

"No," I replied smoothly, looking him dead in the eye. "I didn’t. My real name is Valerie."

"Well, Valerie," he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching with the ghost of a smirk.

But the memory of the dramatic scene in his penthouse foyer this morning rushed back into my mind, burning through my temporary shock. I leaned in closer, my gaze hardening. "So, _Bastien_. Let me guess your real reasons for hiding behind a fake profile. Did you do all of this just so you could sneak around and cheat on your wife?"

---

Bastien’s face went completely dark. A volatile, dangerous spark flared in his eyes.

"Watch your mouth," he growled.

Before I could reply, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and shoved it directly toward my face. The sudden, aggressive movement was loud enough to attract the attention of the surrounding diners, causing several people at the neighboring tables to turn and stare at us.

"Read it," he commanded, his jaw tight.

With a racing heart, I snatched the paper from his hand and unfolded it. It was the medical document Mireya had thrown at him this morning. My eyes scanned the clinical letterhead until they landed on the bold, finalized conclusion at the bottom.

> *Paternity Test Results: 0.0% Probability of Paternity.*

> *Conclusion: The alleged father is excluded as the biological father of the child.*

My breath caught in my throat. The child wasn’t his.

"She left me years ago," Bastien explained, his voice low and bitter, though the raw anger from earlier seemed to drain into pure exhaustion. "She walked out the moment she got famous, humiliating me to date a richer man. She only showed up at my penthouse today because she’s broke and looking for a payday. The kid isn’t mine."

I stared at the paper, my eyelashes blinking rapidly in utter shock. The suffocating guilt I had felt this morning returned tenfold. I picked up the wine glass on the table and gulped down the liquid, needing the burning sensation to steady my nerves.

"I..." I swallowed hard, looking up at him. "I’m sorry. I entirely misjudged you."

Bastien smirked at my immediate shift in attitude, though there was no real humor in it. He poured me another glass of wine before pouring one for himself. "Apology accepted. Now, turnabout is fair play. Why were you completely wasted in the backseat of a car in the middle of a downpour last night?"

I hesitated. I looked down at my glass, a heavy weight pressing on my chest. I couldn’t bring myself to mention the hospital, the terrifying diagnosis, or the ticking clock on my health. That was a vulnerability I wasn’t ready to share with anyone, let alone him.

"My boyfriend," I whispered, the bitterness coating my tongue. "My ex-boyfriend, I should say. And my absolute best friend. They betrayed me. They’ve been sleeping together behind my back, and she took great joy in rubbing it in my face today at a boutique. I just... I wanted to disappear last night."

Bastien looked at me, his dark eyes softening just a fraction. He raised his glass and gulped down his wine, nodding slowly. "I’m sorry too, Valerie. For what I said to you this morning. It was uncalled for."

---

The shared vulnerability hung in the air, temporarily bridging the massive gap between us. But Bastien didn’t let the silence last long. He set his empty glass down and locked his intense gaze onto mine.

"Since we both find ourselves in absolute disasters, I have a proposition for you," Bastien said, his tone shifting back to the authoritative executive. "I want you to marry me on a contract."

I blinked, the alcohol starting to make my head spin. "What?"

"A marriage of convenience," he clarified. "My mother is terminally ill. She only has a short time left, and her final, desperate wish is to see me settled down and married before she passes. I need a wife who wants nothing to do with my fortune, and you need a distraction from the hell you’re walking through. It’s mutually beneficial."

Perhaps it was the overwhelming grief of my own hidden sickness, the pain of Chloe’s betrayal, or the fact that the wine was clouding my judgment, but the idea didn’t sound as insane as it should have. In my tipsy, emotionally exhausted state, I looked at the powerful man sitting across from me and nodded.

"Okay," I murmured. "I’ll do it."

Bastien nodded, signaling the waiter for the check. "Good. I will tell you the specific rules of the marriage contract another time. For now, you need to go home and sleep."

---

The cool night air hit my face the moment I walked out of the restaurant, making the world tilt violently. The alcohol was fully hitting my system now, making my limbs feel incredibly heavy. I stumbled out toward the dark parking lot where my car was parked.

I reached into my clutch, pulling out my keys. My fingers felt like lead. _Clink._ The keys slipped from my grip, clattering onto the asphalt.

"Damn it," I muttered, bending down to grab them, but my balance failed me.

"Hey there, beautiful. Looks like you’ve had a bit too much to drink," a rough, unfamiliar voice called out.

I looked up to see a strange young guy approaching me from the shadows of the parking lot. His eyes raked over my body in the green silk dress, a disgusting smirk on his face.

"I’m fine," I slurred, reaching for my keys again, but he stepped closer, blocking my path.

"You don’t look fine. Why don’t I help you get into the back seat?" he murmured, stepping directly into my personal space. Before I could scream, his hand shot out, his fingers pressing firmly against the bare skin of my shoulder and arm.

A wave of panic cut through my intoxication. "Let go of me!" I cried out, trying to violently shake him off, but my muscles wouldn’t cooperate. I stumbled backward, my vision blurring as he gripped me tighter.

"Come on, don’t be like that—"

Suddenly, a powerful force ripped the guy away from me.

Through my fading consciousness, I saw a blur of motion. Bastien had appeared out of nowhere. His face was a mask of pure, unbridled rage as his hand snapped around the stranger’s throat, slamming him backward against a concrete pillar with terrifying strength.

"Touch her again and I’ll kill you," Bastien’s voice boomed, dangerous and lethal.

The adrenaline finally broke the last string of my strength. My knees buckled beneath me, the darkness rushing in to claim my vision. Before my body could hit the cold pavement, I felt a pair of strong, familiar arms catch me, pulling me securely against a broad chest right before I completely passed out.