"MY BOSS'S CONTRACT BABY"

CHAPTER 4: THE GALA

*DISCLAIMER*

This story is a work of fiction. All characters are 18 years old and above.

---

*ZIAN'S POV*

The Castro Gala.

It was held every year at the Grand Ballroom of Castro Hotels & Resorts. Crystal chandeliers. A string quartet. 300 of Manila’s richest people pretending they actually liked each other.

I hated it.

For the past three years, I’d walked into this event alone. Black suit. Black tie. Cold expression. Shake 50 hands, give a 5-minute speech about "growth and innovation," and leave before they served dessert.

But this year was different.

This year, I wasn’t alone.

This year, I had a wife.

The word felt wrong in my mouth. _Wife._

Amara Santos. 24 years old. Event coordinator by day. Barista by night. And somehow, in the span of one week, the reason my niece stopped having nightmares.

Contract: 1 year. 5 million pesos. No s*x. No love. No questions asked.

That was what we signed.

But then David Reyes showed up at my front door yesterday.

Then he threatened her.

Then he said the word "custody."

And something in me snapped.

It was 6 PM and I was in my office, staring at the red dress box on my desk. Nina had it delivered an hour ago with a note: _For Ma’am. Luna said you should match, Sir._

Match.

The word made my jaw tick.

There was a knock. "Sir? They’re ready." Tita Baby.

I loosened my tie and stood up.

The moment I saw her at the bottom of the stairs, the air left my lungs.

Red.

The dress was elegant. Long sleeves. High neck. But the back dipped low, and her hair was pinned up to show the curve of her neck. She looked nervous. She was biting the inside of her cheek. A habit I’d noticed she did when she was lying. Or scared.

Luna was beside her in a pink dress, her pink cast held up like a trophy.

"Tito! Pretty si Mommy, right?"

Mommy.

That word again.

Amara looked down. "Is it too much?"

"No." The word came out rougher than I intended. I cleared my throat. "It’s perfect."

The car ride to the hotel was 20 minutes of silence.

Luna chattered in the backseat about her cast, about school, about how "Tito picked the color!"

Amara smiled and nodded. But her hands were clenched in her lap.

"Nervous?" I asked, not looking at her.

"Yes."

"Just stay beside me. Smile. Answer if they ask your name. That’s all."

"What if David comes?"

My jaw tightened. "He won’t."

"How do you know?"

"Because I made sure he couldn’t." I finally turned to her. "If he comes within 500 meters of you, he goes to jail."

Her brown eyes widened. "You didn’t have to—"

"I did." I cut her off. "He threatened you. In my house. That makes it my problem."

She looked away. "Thank you."

"Don’t thank me."

The hotel was chaos. Flashing cameras. Reporters shouting.

"Mr. Castro! Over here!"

"Who is the lady?!"

"Is that Mrs. Castro?!"

My hand found hers before I could think.

Small. Cold. Trembling.

I squeezed once.

And then I said it. Loud. Clear. For the cameras. For the Board. For David, if he was watching.

"My wife."

The crowd hushed.

"Amara Castro."

Amara stiffened beside me. But she didn’t pull away.

Inside was worse. The ballroom was full of people I’d known my entire life. People who’d watched me grow up. People who were waiting for me to fail.

And then: "Zian."

My mother.

Mrs. Elena Castro. Chairwoman Emeritus. In navy blue and diamonds and disappointment.

"Finally." She kissed my cheek. Then her eyes scanned Amara. Head to toe. Judging.

"Red. Bold choice."

Before Amara could answer, Luna ran to her.

"Lola!"

Elena’s face softened for half a second. Then hardened again when Luna hid behind Amara’s leg.

"Luna, anak. Come to Lola."

"No." Luna’s small voice was firm. "With Mommy."

The entire ballroom went quiet.

Even the quartet seemed to miss a note.

I stepped forward. Our hands still linked.

"Yes, Mother. Ara is Luna’s mother now."

Then Diana.

White dress. Diamonds. Perfect hair. Perfect smile. Perfect fake.

"Zian." She hugged me. Her perfume choked me. "I missed you."

Then she pulled back and looked at Amara.

"And you must be... the contract."

There it was.

Amara’s face went pale. But she lifted her chin. "Amara Castro."

Diana laughed. "Castro? Oh sweetie. How much did he pay you? 5 million?"

My hand tightened on Amara’s. "Watch your mouth, Diana."

"Or what? You married her for the Board. We all know that." Diana leaned in. "Don’t embarrass yourself, Zian."

And then Luna spoke.

Small. Clear. Deadly.

"Don't talk to my Mommy like that."

The entire hall heard it.

Cameras flashed.

Diana’s face twisted. "Excuse me?"

"Luna." I knelt immediately. "Baby, are you okay?"

Luna nodded. Then she did the thing that broke me.

She took my hand. And Amara’s hand.

And put them together. Her tiny hands on top of ours.

"Family." She said.

The cameras went crazy.

Elena looked like she swallowed glass.

Diana looked like she wanted to murder someone.

And Amara... Amara looked like she was about to cry.

"Balcony." I muttered. Pulling them away.

---

*AMARA'S POV*

The balcony was cold.

Or maybe that was just me. Shaking.

Zian handed me a glass of water. His hand was steady. The opposite of mine.

"You did good." He said.

"She called me a contract." My voice cracked.

"I know."

"Is it true?" I asked. "That this is just for the Board?"

He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn’t answer.

"It started that way."

The words hurt more than Diana’s.

"But tonight..." He turned to me. Gray eyes serious. "When Luna called you Mommy. When you stood there in red and didn’t back down. When you held my hand even though you were scared."

He paused.

"I didn’t want to let go."

My heart was pounding so hard I thought he’d hear it.

"Zian—"

"Don’t." He cut me off. "Don’t make this real, Amara. Not yet. We have 40 weeks. And a secret."

The baby.

Our secret.

My phone buzzed in my clutch.

I almost ignored it. But something made me look.

Unknown Number: _Nice acting. But I have pictures of you and the kid. Pay me 2M or I send them to press. Say you’re a gold digger. - D_

The water glass slipped in my hand.

Zian caught it before it fell. "What is it?"

I showed him.

His jaw clenched. A muscle ticked.

"He’s not getting a cent."

"Then what do we do?" My voice was shaking. "If he releases those photos—"

"We make them believe it." Zian stepped closer. So close I could smell his cologne. Black coffee and something clean. "So much, that even he starts to doubt it."

"Believe what?"

"That this is real."

He reached up and brushed my hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered.

"Starting now."

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.

It was desperate. Angry. Like he was trying to prove something to the cameras inside. To Diana. To David. To himself.

His hand was on my waist. The other cupped my face.

And for 5 seconds, I forgot about the contract. About the 5 million. About the baby I was hiding.

I kissed him back.

When he pulled away, we were both breathing hard.

"That," He whispered, thumb brushing my cheek. "Was for the cameras."

But his eyes were saying: _I needed to do that._

We stayed on the balcony for 10 more minutes. Not talking. Just breathing.

Then we went back inside. As Mr. and Mrs. Castro.

The rest of the night was a blur.

Handshakes. Photos. Elena giving me tight smiles. Diana glaring from across the room.

Through it all, Zian didn’t let go of my hand.

At 11PM, Luna fell asleep on my shoulder.

"Time to go home." Zian murmured in my ear.

His breath made me shiver.

The car ride home was different.

Luna asleep between us.

My head on Zian’s shoulder.

His arm around me.

Contract.

This was supposed to be fake.

---

*ZIAN'S POV - 2 AM*

I woke up to small arms around my waist.

Luna.

She had a nightmare again. The third one this month.

"Can Mommy and Tito sleep here?" She mumbled, half asleep.

So now here we are.

King size bed. Luna in the middle.

Amara on one side. Me on the other.

Both of us pretending to sleep.

But I could hear her breathing. Uneven.

She was awake too.

"Amara." I whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For today."

"For what?"

"For being their Mom."

Silence.

Then a shaky breath. "You’re welcome."

I closed my eyes.

This was supposed to be business.

5 million. 1 year. Done.

But Luna was calling her Mommy.

And I was holding her hand in public like I meant it.

And I kissed her on a balcony because I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hurting her.

The most dangerous part of this contract...

Was that I was starting to want it to be real too.

And that terrified me.

---

*AMARA'S POV - 3 AM*

I couldn’t sleep.

Because Zian’s arm was still around me.

Because Luna was curled into my side.

Because of the text. Because of the kiss. Because of "Thank you for being their Mom."

My hand drifted to my stomach.

1 month pregnant.

His baby.

From Boracay. 1 year ago.

If he finds out, I lose everything. The 5 million. The protection. Luna.

If I tell him, he might hate me.

But if I don’t tell him... I’m lying to the man who kissed me like he meant it.

Tears slipped down my face.

I quickly wiped them. Didn’t want to wake them.

"Hey." Zian’s voice. Soft.

"You’re crying."

"No I’m not." Lie.

He shifted. His hand found mine under the blanket.

"Talk to me."

"I can’t."

"You can."

"It’s about the contract."

"Then don’t."

I laughed quietly. "Zian Castro telling me to break the rules?"

"Only this once."

I turned to face him in the dark. Could barely see him.

"I’m scared." I admitted.

"Of what?"

"Of this feeling real. Of getting attached. Of losing it all."

He was quiet. Then: "Me too."

Two words.

And they meant more than the kiss.

We fell asleep like that. Hands intertwined.

With Luna between us.

Family.

Even if it was a lie.

The next morning was different.

Zian was at breakfast. Actually eating. Pandesal and coffee.

Luna climbed onto his lap. "Tito, park?"

"I have a meeting—"

"Please?" Puppy eyes.

He sighed. "Fine. One hour."

The park was empty. Private. Owned by Castro Group.

Luna ran around with her pink cast, laughing.

I sat on the bench. Zian sat beside me. Not touching.

"She’s happy." I said.

"Because of you."

"What?"

"You did this." He gestured at Luna. "She talks now. She laughs. She calls you Mommy."

"That’s not—"

"It is." He cut me off. "And I don’t know how to repay you for that."

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to." Zian turned to me. "Amara, the contract says 1 year. But if you want to extend—"

"No." The word came out too fast. "I can’t."

"Why?"

"Because it will hurt more later." My voice cracked. "Because Luna will get attached. Because I already am."

Zian looked away. "I see."

We didn’t talk the rest of the park trip.

That night, my phone buzzed again.

Unknown: _We need to talk. About the baby. About money. Meet me tomorrow. Or I go to the press. - D_

My hands shook. I showed it to Zian.

He read it once. Then crumpled the phone in his hand.

"He’s threatening you."

"What do we do?"

Zian’s jaw clenched. "We fight back."

"How?"

"By making this marriage real." He looked at me. "At least to the public. To him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we go to the gala next week. Together. As husband and wife. No distance. No pretending."

My heart was pounding. "Zian, that’s not part of the contract."

"I know." He stepped closer. "But it’s the only way to shut him up. To protect Luna. To protect you."

"And after the gala?"

"After the gala, we figure it out."

The air between us was thick.

"Okay." I whispered. "Okay."

Zian nodded once. "Good. Get some rest."

He left.

I sat on my bed and touched the ring on my finger.

This was supposed to be fake.

So why did it feel like the most real thing I had?

_TO BE CONTINUED..._