The Reluctant Agreement

Chapter 12: The Public Declaration

**Chapter 12: The Public Declaration**

Rage, hot and furious, surged through me. How dare he? How dare he let Sofia dictate his actions and publicly humiliate me? The carefully constructed walls I had built around my emotions crumbled, replaced by a raw, stinging betrayal.

My phone began to ring incessantly. It was Beatrice, my grandmother, my board members – all wanting answers, explanations. I ignored them all, my focus solely on the words on the screen, each sentence twisting the knife deeper.

Just as I was trying to process the devastating news, Adrian appeared at my penthouse door. His face was pale, his eyes filled with a turmoil that mirrored my own.

“Seraphina,” he began, his voice hoarse. “I can explain…”

“Explain?” I cut him off, my voice trembling with fury. “Explain how you publicly declared our engagement a ‘mistake’? Explain how you let that viper Sofia dictate your every move?”

He stepped closer, reaching for my hand, but I recoiled. “I didn’t have a choice, Seraphina. She… she threatened to release more damaging information. Information that could have ruined my career, my family.”

“And so you chose to ruin me instead?” I retorted, the bitterness in my voice sharp. “You used me, Adrian. Our entire relationship was a lie, a means to an end for you.”

“No! That’s not true,” he protested, his eyes pleading. “The contract… it started that way. But the feelings that developed between us, Seraphina, those were real.”

“Real?” I scoffed. “If they were real, you wouldn’t have caved to Sofia’s threats. You wouldn’t have publicly humiliated me.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, a mixture of anger and hurt. I had allowed myself to feel something for him, to let him breach the walls I had so carefully guarded. And this was how he repaid me – with public betrayal and humiliation.

“I was trying to protect you too, Seraphina,” he insisted, his voice desperate. “The information Sofia had… it could have damaged your reputation as well. She was ruthless.”

“Protect me?” I repeated, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. “By making me look like a desperate socialite who forced you into an engagement? Thank you for your protection, Adrian.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken accusations and shattered trust. The fragile connection we had begun to build lay in ruins, destroyed by the ghosts of his past and his inability to stand by what we had shared, however unconventional it may have been.

“So, what now?” I asked, my voice cold and detached. “The contract is null and void, I presume?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a profound sadness. “Yes. I… I’m sorry, Seraphina. Truly sorry.”

Sorry wasn’t enough. Sorry couldn’t erase the public humiliation, the sting of betrayal, the unwelcome vulnerability I now felt.

“Get out, Adrian,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just… get out.”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on me, a silent plea in his eyes. But I turned away, unable to bear the sight of him. With a heavy sigh, he finally left, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone in the shattered remnants of our reluctant agreement.

The days that followed were a blur of damage control. My PR team worked tirelessly to counter the negative narrative, emphasizing the mutual nature of our agreement and downplaying Adrian’s recent statements as the actions of a man under duress. But the whispers persisted, and I felt the weight of public scrutiny bearing down on me.

I retreated into my work, throwing myself into the demands of the Valeriano Conglomerate, seeking solace in the familiar world of business. But even amidst the spreadsheets and board meetings, Adrian’s betrayal lingered, a constant reminder of my own foolish vulnerability.

My grandmother, ever the pillar of strength, came to visit me. She held my hand, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. “He wasn’t good enough for you, Seraphina, *mija*,” she said firmly. “You deserve someone who will stand by you, no matter what.”

Her words offered a small measure of comfort, but the sting of betrayal remained. I had allowed myself to believe, even for a moment, that something real could blossom from our fake engagement. And I had been wrong. Terribly wrong. The reluctant agreement had ended in a public declaration of its falsehood, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my pride and my carefully guarded heart. The construction project, a symbol of our initial agreement, now stood as a stark reminder of its bitter end, a half-finished monument to a love that never truly had a chance.