Chapter 110
Mila’s confident words left everyone stunned.
"Such an ungrateful, worthless little bitch!" her aunt’s sharp voice bellowed through the foyer, but Mila didn’t dare look back.
Her uncle’s furious shouts echoed down the quiet street, yet she kept her head down, her heart hammering against her ribs as she walked as fast as her legs could carry her.
Returning to her small bedroom, she stood before the mirror, her mind a chaotic storm. She winced at the angry, swollen crimson print imprinted on her cheek—a brutal reminder of her uncle’s palm.
How pathetic... All they ever know is violence and scorn.
She couldn’t step into the studio looking like a victim, so she carefully layered heavy concealer over the injury, pressing the powder until the mark was effectively buried.
Before facing Raphael, she needed to see Daniel. She had to tell her boyfriend about the proposal, her stomach churning with anxiety at how he might react. The feeling of betraying him was almost killing her.
When she unlocked the door to Daniel’s apartment, a wave of foul stench instantly hit her—a pungent, sickening haze of stale alcohol, heavy sweat, and synthetic drugs. Empty bottles and discarded clothes littered the floorboards. Daniel was sprawled across the stained mattress, completely passed out from the previous night’s binge.
Swallowing her disgust, Mila steeled herself, stepping over the debris to shake his shoulder vigorously. "Daniel! Daniel, wake up!"
Daniel groaned, his eyes fluttering open into a bleary, bloodshot squint. "Who the fuck is waking me up?" he rasped, his voice thick with irritation.
Mila’s heart sank. Looking at his disheveled, hollow frame, it was getting harder to remember the ambitious man she had once fallen for. "Daniel, please. I need to speak with you. It’s urgent."
He squinted through his heavy hangover, his brow furrowing with dark annoyance. "What could possibly be so damn important that you’re dragging me out of sleep?"
Mila took a deep, steadying breath, letting the words fall sharply into the quiet room. "Raphael Dumas proposed to me."
The sheer weight of the name seemed to instantly pierce through his chemical fog. Daniel blinked, the stupor evaporating as his eyes widened. "Raphael Dumas? The star?"
"Yes," Mila said firmly, nodding once.
Daniel’s jaw tightened, his mind rapidly shifting gears. "That fucking asshole... hitting on my girl," he muttered, teeth grinding. Then his gaze snapped back to Mila, a flash of ugly, territorial rage burning in his eyes. "You slut, what the hell did you do to make him move on you?"
Mila flinched at the accusation, the sting on her cheek burning anew. She had intended to keep the corporate details quiet, but she realized now she had to lay out the cold facts.
"Daniel, stop!" she insisted, her voice tight. "Listen to me. His public image is collapsing, and he needs a distraction immediately. He can’t risk a real relationship, so he asked me to sign a one-year marriage contract. It is strictly business, and he is paying a massive retainer."
The word paying caught Daniel’s attention. The anger in his eyes flickered out, replaced instantly by a sharp, greedy gleam.
"How much is he giving you?" he asked shamelessly.
Mila let out a heavy sigh. "Half a million dollars a month."
"Holy shit!" Daniel gasped, slapping his forehead in pure disbelief, a wild grin breaking across his face. "That bastard is fucking loaded!"
"I know," Mila whispered.
"Do it, babe! You have my complete blessing!" he blurted out, before catching himself and narrowing his eyes. "Wait... what about the bedroom stuff?"
"There will be absolute zero physical intimacy between us," Mila reassured him quickly. "We only have to play the part of a devoted couple in front of the press and the studio cameras."
Daniel’s grin widened, a wet, mockingly relieved laugh escaping him. "Oh, babe, of course! Raphael Dumas wouldn’t look twice at a plain thing like you anyway. You aren’t his standard movie-star type. But hey, I love you, and I can wait out a single year for that kind of money."
He leaned in and kissed her lips. Mila cringed internally at the stale, foul taste of chemicals and alcohol on his breath, but she forced her expression to remain passive.
"Daniel, you cannot mention the contract to a single soul," she warned sharply, her voice dropping to a tense whisper. "If the studio or the media find out this is a sham, we will both be destroyed."
"Relax, babe. What contract? I don’t know a damn thing," he chuckled, making a lazy motion of zipping his lips shut.
"And one more thing," Mila added, her eyes searching his face for genuine understanding. "We cannot be seen in public together while the contract is active. You have to keep a low profile until the divorce goes through."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, babe," Daniel dismissed her with a wave, casting her a practiced, puppy-dog look. "Just don’t let that rich actor touch you, okay? And make sure you keep sending my monthly allowance. I can’t pay the dealer without you."
"I am doing this for our future, Daniel," Mila murmured, a faint, sad smile touching her lips as she reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "And to cover Grandmother’s heart surgery."
"Of course, babe. We’ll take care of the old lady. Don’t worry about it," he said carelessly, pulling her into a brief, uninspired hug. Mila rested her cheek against his chest, trying to draw comfort from his heartbeat, but the cold emptiness in her gut remained.
Abruptly, Daniel pushed her away. "Go make me some strong coffee. My head is fucking pounding."
Mila stood frozen for a second, a small, quiet disappointment settling into her chest. Once again, when she desperately needed an anchor, she was completely on her own.
She turned toward the kitchen, her jaw setting firmly. The terms were clear, her family was taken care of, and her boyfriend had signed off. She was ready to go to Raphael Dumas and sign the papers.