Roxanne's POV
I think I'm going to throw up, and it has nothing to do with morning sickness.
Tonight is the night I, and a thousand others have been waiting for—the gallery opening. Six months of work, stress, dreams, and fake engagements all climaxing in this single evening.
I'm standing in front of the full-length mirror in my room, staring at myself. I'm six months pregnant now, and my bump is visible and undeniable. The custom dress Isaiah insisted on buying fits perfectly. It's a deep sequin emerald green that somehow makes my skin glow, the fabric flowing elegantly over my changed body.
"Consider it an investment in our story," he'd said when I protested the price.
Our story? The fake one we're selling to the world.
I shake my head and dab a little golden eyeshadow to my eyes t
