HIS GOLDEN LIE

The Woman Who Gave Me Everything

Chapter Five: The Woman Who Gave Me Everything

First-person POV (Amara)

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The day after the wedding, I visited Mama.

Not as a waitress.

Not as a girl barely surviving.

But as someone’s wife — even if the ring meant nothing.

I wore a plain black dress and no makeup. I didn’t want to look rich. I didn’t want her to see diamonds and think I had turned into someone else.

I just wanted to sit beside her and feel like her daughter again.

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She was lying in bed when I walked in, her eyes closed, her chest rising slowly.

The small apartment smelled of menthol and medicine. The curtains were thin, letting in soft sunlight that kissed her wrinkled skin. She looked so small under the blanket — like a paper version of the strong woman who once carried me on her back through the rain.

I dropped to my knees beside her bed.

“Mama,” I whispered.

Her eyes opened slowly, and when she saw me, her face lit up with a tired smile.

“My baby,” she breathed.

I reached for her hand. “You’re warm today.”

“That's because I saw an angel walk in.”

I laughed quietly and kissed her fingers.

She studied me for a moment. “You look different. Happier.”

I paused. “I got married.”

Her eyes widened. “You did what?”

“It was fast. Unexpected. But… it’s done.”

She struggled to sit up. I helped her, placing a pillow behind her back.

“Who is he?” she asked, her voice fragile. “Do you love him?”

I looked away. “He’s kind… in his own way.”

That wasn’t a lie.

Liam wasn’t cruel. Not with his words, at least. But kindness? That was a stretch.

Mama touched my cheek. “You’re my only child, Amara. I never gave you a perfect life, but I gave you all I had. If this man ever hurts you—”

“He won’t,” I whispered. “It’s just… complicated.”

She didn’t ask more. She never pushed. That was Mama — soft where the world was hard.

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I made her tea, fed her warm porridge, and combed her hair with slow, gentle strokes.

As I sat beside her, I noticed the edge of her pill bottle was almost empty.

My heart sank.

I reached into my purse and pulled out an envelope Liam had given me after the wedding.

“Your first payment,” he had said coldly. “You’ll receive one every month until the contract ends.”

Inside was more money than I’d ever held.

I handed a portion to Mama. “For your next hospital trip.”

She stared at the notes. “Amara… where did this come from?”

“My husband,” I said simply.

She looked at me for a long time.

“Are you safe?” she asked.

I nodded.

It was the biggest lie I had ever told.

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Back at the mansion, the world was colder.

Helen had moved my things into the master bedroom. The bed was huge, the sheets white, the air scented like lavender and power. Liam wasn’t home yet.

I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the old photo of Mama and me that I kept in my bag. It was faded now. From years of holding it when I cried.

She looked so alive in that picture — laughing, holding a tiny version of me in her arms. Her smile back then didn’t know what was coming. Didn’t know about the sickness. The hospital nights. The bills.

And now… I was married to a stranger just to keep her alive.

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The door opened quietly.

Liam walked in, his tie loose, jaw tense.

He paused when he saw me.

“You’re home early,” I said softly.

He nodded, unbuttoning his cuffs. “Board meeting ended fast. Someone cried.”

I wasn’t sure if he was joking. His face didn’t change.

I stood. “I went to see my mother today.”

He looked at me.

“Did you tell her everything?”

I shook my head. “Just that we’re married.”

He walked past me, poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“She doesn’t know it’s a lie?”

I looked at him carefully. “Do you want it to be one?”

He turned, surprised by the question. But he didn’t answer.

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Later that night, we lay on the same bed — a line of silence between us.

He didn’t touch me.

I didn’t touch him.

We just existed — two strangers forced to breathe the same air.

I turned my back to him and stared at the wall.

Then I heard him say, almost too quietly:

“How sick is she?”

I blinked.

“Mama?”

“Yes.”

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. “Stage three. The doctors said she has time, but we’re losing it.”

Silence.

Then, “You’ll get more money next week. Get her what she needs.”

I looked at him, surprised.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He didn’t reply.

But in that moment, I saw something soft flash in his eyes.

Just for a second.

Before he turned away.

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