The Video
1991 Words
The words settled over the hall like thunder after lightning.
For one suspended moment...
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Then—
"What?"
The whisper escaped from somewhere among the candidates.
It was followed by another.
"Did he just say Anabelle Alex?"
"Her name isn't Loretta Ayo?"
"Who is she?"
The silence shattered into countless murmurs.
Every gaze shifted toward Anabelle.
She remained seated.
Completely still.
Her fingers tightened around the armrest until her knuckles turned white.
Her mind refused to process what she had just heard.
How does he know my name?
Sharon's face slowly lost its color.
Her eyes darted between Thiago and Anabelle.
"No..."
She shook her head.
"No."
The word came out as little more than a whisper.
"This isn't funny."
Thiago didn't look at her.
He didn't look at anyone.
His gaze remained fixed on Anabelle.
The three judges exchanged brief glances before silently rising from their seats.
Their responsibility had ended.
The decision had been made.
The MC stepped forward, still trying to recover from the unexpected announcement.
"Ladies and gentlemen..."
He forced a professional smile.
"Mr. Thiago Adebayo has made his decision."
"This concludes the bride selection."
No applause came.
Only silence.
A heavy...
Uncomfortable silence.
Sharon suddenly laughed.
Once.
Twice.
It wasn't amusement.
It was disbelief.
"You expect me to believe this?"
Her voice echoed across the hall.
"You gathered twenty women..."
"...held an entire selection..."
"...and chose a woman who wasn't even supposed to be here?"
Only then did Thiago turn toward her.
His expression remained unreadable.
"I did."
Sharon stared at him as though waiting for him to smile.
To admit it was a joke.
He didn't.
Slowly...
The truth settled in.
This was real.
Every dream she had built around this evening collapsed before her eyes.
Across the hall...
Anabelle finally stood.
She looked from the candidates...
...to Sharon...
...then back at Thiago.
"I think..."
Her voice was calm despite the storm inside her.
"...you've mistaken me for someone else."
For the first time that evening...
A faint smile touched the corner of Thiago's lips.
"I rarely mistake people, Miss Anabelle Alex."
Outside the Mansion
The moment the doors closed behind them, the noise of the grand hall disappeared.
The waiting convoy was already lined up.
One of the chauffeurs hurried forward and opened the rear door.
Thiago entered first.
Anabelle remained where she was.
She looked at the car.
Then at Thiago.
Then back toward the mansion.
"This has gone far enough."
Thiago looked at her through the open door.
"Get in."
"I'm not running away with you."
"You aren't."
His tone was flat.
"I'm taking you home."
Anabelle hesitated for a few seconds before getting into the car.
The door closed behind her.
Silence.
The vehicle pulled away from the mansion.
Neither of them spoke.
Outside, the city lights slid past the windows.
Inside...
Only the quiet hum of the engine remained.
Anabelle folded her arms.
She replayed the entire evening in her head.
The bride selection.
Her fake name.
Her real name.
The announcement.
Nothing made sense.
Finally, she broke the silence.
"Reigns Fashion World."
Thiago turned slightly.
"What?"
"Drop me at Reigns Fashion World."
"You've had a long day."
"So have you."
"I said Reigns Fashion World."
His gaze lingered on her for a brief second.
"You aren't going home?"
"I have something to do."
"You can do it tomorrow."
"And you can explain what that was tomorrow."
Another silence settled between them.
The driver glanced nervously at the rear-view mirror before focusing on the road again.
Thiago finally spoke.
"Take her to Reigns Fashion World."
"Yes, sir."
The car changed direction.
Neither of them spoke again.
A few minutes later, the vehicle stopped in front of the fashion house.
The lights were already off.
The building had closed for the day.
Anabelle stared at the entrance before letting out a quiet sigh.
She reached for the door.
"Miss Anabelle."
She paused but didn't turn around.
"The dress."
She looked over her shoulder.
"I paid for it."
"I know."
"I'll return every penny."
Thiago's expression didn't change.
"I wasn't asking for it back."
Anabelle opened the door.
"That makes one of us."
She stepped out.
The door closed.
Without another glance, she hailed a commercial bike waiting across the street.
Thiago watched until she disappeared into the night.
Only then did he quietly say,
"Follow her."
The driver met his eyes in the mirror.
"From a distance, sir?"
Thiago looked out the window.
"She has no idea what she walked into."
"Don't let anything happen to her."
The convoy slowly pulled away.
ANABELLE'S APARTMENT
The moment Anabelle shut the door behind her, she leaned against it and slowly slid to the floor.
Silence.
For the first time that day...
Silence.
She stared blankly at the opposite wall.
Then suddenly laughed.
A short, disbelieving laugh.
"What kind of delivery ends with a marriage?"
She covered her face with both hands.
"No..."
"What kind of life am I living?"
After sitting there for almost a minute, she forced herself up and dragged her exhausted body toward the bed.
The moment she landed on the mattress, she spread both arms wide and stared at the ceiling.
"If I had remembered that stupid ledger..."
"...I'd be sleeping like every normal person instead of wondering why the richest bachelor in the country announced I'm his bride."
She groaned and buried her face in a pillow.
"This has to be a nightmare."
She waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Twenty.
Nothing changed.
She removed the pillow and sighed.
"So... not a nightmare."
She rolled onto her back again.
"Let's think, Anabelle."
"What exactly happened today?"
"I delivered a dress."
"I forgot the ledger."
"I lied."
"I got dragged into a bride selection."
"I used Loretta Ayo's name."
She paused.
"And somehow..."
"...I walked out engaged."
She blinked twice.
"No."
"I refuse to accept that sentence."
She sat upright so quickly that her hair fell across her face.
"The only reason he chose me..."
"...was to get rid of those women."
"That's it."
"It has to be."
She nodded to herself.
"Tomorrow he'll come to his senses."
"I'll return the money for the dress."
"He'll tell everyone it was a misunderstanding."
"I'll apologize to Sharon..."
She stopped halfway.
"...No."
"Sharon."
Her shoulders slumped.
"If she discovers I was the one who delivered that gown..."
"...she'll skin me alive."
She grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly.
"And if my boss finds out I lied..."
"There goes my job."
"My rent."
"My peace."
"My life."
She let herself fall backward onto the bed again.
"God..."
"I wasn't asking You to make my life interesting."
"I meant money."
"My prayer was money."
Not... billionaire fiancés."
Her phone vibrated.
She reached for it lazily.
Bose Calling...
Anabelle answered immediately.
"Tell me you've found a way to rewind today."
Bose laughed.
"I wish."
"I just sent today's sales report."
"The black gown really helped our numbers."
At the mention of the gown, Anabelle sat upright.
"Wait."
"The gown?"
She quickly opened the report on her phone.
Her finger scrolled down the sales list.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Her brows slowly pulled together.
"Bose."
"Why can't I find it?"
"Oh..."
Bose sounded like she had just remembered something.
"We removed that sale."
"What do you mean you removed it?"
"The delivery didn't go as planned."
"So we contacted the owner to collect the gown back."
Anabelle frowned.
"The owner?"
"Yes."
"But..."
"...he bought it instead."
Silence.
"He... what?"
"He paid for it."
"In full."
Anabelle blinked.
"No bargaining?"
"No discount?"
"No complaints?"
Bose laughed.
"None."
"He simply paid."
Anabelle frowned even harder.
"Wait."
"You said he."
"Who exactly received the gown?"
"Mr. Thiago Adebayo."
The room became completely still.
Anabelle lowered the phone from her ear.
"He actually paid for Sharon's gown..."
Bose's voice pulled her back.
"Annabelle?"
"You keep saying received."
"Weren't you the one who delivered it to Sharon?"
Before Anabelle could answer...
Another vibration interrupted the call.
An unknown number.
She ignored it.
Almost immediately...
Another message arrived.
Curiosity got the better of her.
She opened it.
An instruction
Tomorrow. 9:00 a.m.
Don't be late.
Her heartbeat stumbled.
She didn't need to ask who had sent it.
Only one man had ever called her that.
And somehow...
He had her number.
THIAGO'S MAIN RESIDENCE
The butler led Anabelle through the mansion in complete silence.
The place was nothing like the guest residence.
It was larger.
Quieter.
Everything felt deliberate, from the architecture to the placement of every piece of furniture.
Nothing was excessive.
Yet everything was expensive.
The butler stopped before a pair of double doors.
He knocked once.
"Sir, Miss Anabelle is here."
A calm voice came from inside.
"Come in."
The doors opened.
Anabelle stepped inside.
Thiago was seated on a black sofa near the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He wasn't wearing a suit.
Just black sweatpants and a fitted black T-shirt.
Even dressed casually, he carried the same commanding presence.
He looked up briefly.
"You're on time."
Anabelle crossed her arms.
"I didn't come here for compliments."
"I noticed."
The butler quietly excused himself, leaving the two of them alone.
For a few seconds...
Neither spoke.
Anabelle broke the silence.
"I want an explanation."
Thiago looked at her.
"So ask."
She frowned.
"You turned my life upside down yesterday."
"You announced in front of everyone that I was your bride."
"You got my phone number."
"You somehow knew I'd come here this morning."
She took another step forward.
"And you expect me to believe all of that deserves no explanation?"
Thiago remained calm.
"It doesn't."
She stared at him.
"...Excuse me?"
"It doesn't deserve one."
"It requires one."
Anabelle let out a short, frustrated laugh.
"You really enjoy doing this, don't you?"
"Doing what?"
"Answering questions without actually answering them."
A faint smile touched the corner of his lips.
"You noticed."
She sighed deeply.
"Mr. Thiago..."
"I have a job."
"I have responsibilities."
"I have plans for my life."
"I'm not interested in becoming your girlfriend."
"I'm definitely not interested in becoming your wife."
"I don't even know you."
Thiago stood.
Slowly.
He walked toward her until only a few steps separated them.
"You've made one mistake."
Anabelle held his gaze.
"Which is?"
"You think this is about what you want."
His voice remained calm.
"It isn't."
She frowned.
"My life is exactly about what I want."
"No."
"It's about what has already happened."
He continued.
"Yesterday, in front of influential families, business leaders and the press..."
"I introduced you as my future wife."
"There is no version of today where people simply forget that."
Anabelle opened her mouth—
Then closed it again.
She hated that he had a point.
"So fix it."
"I can't."
"You won't."
"There is a difference."
She folded her arms tighter.
"You keep talking as if you've already decided everything."
"I have."
"No."
She shook her head firmly.
"You decided for yourself."
"You don't get to decide for me."
For the first time, Thiago's eyes sharpened.
"You came here looking for answers."
"So here's one."
"I didn't choose you by mistake."
The room fell silent.
Anabelle searched his face for any sign that he was joking.
There was none.
"Why me?"
Thiago looked at her for a long moment.
Then...
"You'll know when it's time."
Anabelle let out an exasperated breath.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting today."
She stared at him for another few seconds.
Then turned toward the door.
"If this is how you solve problems..."
"...I'm leaving."
Her hand reached the doorknob.
Thiago spoke without raising his voice.
"You should worry less about leaving..."
"...and more about what you're walking into."
She paused.
"What does that mean?"
"The internet moves faster than truth."
Anabelle turned to look at him.
"What have you done?"
"I haven't done anything."
"Then what are you talking about?"
He held her gaze.
"By now..."
"...someone else already has."
- Writer
