The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

February 3, 2011

Vancouver, B.C.

I slumped as I listened to my professor's lecture about the beginning of numeracy.

The class was nothing but a bore. I never really liked history subject but I had to take the course since a Natural Science was mandatory to finish my program. For three hours, the professor would go through about fifteen slides and talk about numbers passionately.

I had known a bit about passion. I'd seen it.

I was raised in a humble home. My father was a street artist, and only because it was not secluded in an art gallery, people discouraged him because they perceive his kind of art as vandalizing.

Had it not been for wealthy socialites with too much money to spend on paying art, dad would not make ends meet.

My mom had told me stories about my dad; how excited he was to finish a mural. At that time, he had dreams and hopes for me. He even sold a piece and named it "Emerald". Unfortunately, he had passed away even before I was born.

Mom believed that dad's love and talent in painting somehow transferred to me. At age six, I begged my mom to buy me colors and small canvas at the dollar store instead of Barbie toys and new clothes. She'd even let me paint to my heart's content.

In eighth grade, I began getting compliments from acquaintances and especially my art teacher. They loved my paintings. They'd say they'd buy them for few dollars and I felt like the happiest kid in the block.

As soon as I turned sixteen, I worked part time so I could buy a better set of brush that would last longer and wouldn't break after little use, a wide array of shades of colors, and bigger canvases. It was when I realized how fervent I was with painting.

Mom allowed me to use the storage room where she kept all of dad's painting. Inside the small room which she kept locked for years, I witnessed the embodiment of hard work and perseverance. He had so many pieces that ended up in the trash; some were covered in dust and white cloth, and some were unfinished.

My heart ached every time I looked at them. I could almost envision my father's frustration to make the pieces happen. He must've ran out of inspiration while the industry pushed him to do more, to create more art.

But in the end, it cost my father to take his own life.

Mom said she was about to have me when "that" had happened. Dad's death was a taboo around mom so I never really pried some more. In fact, I couldn't imagine even the heartache mom had gone through when dad passed away.

Mom initially opposed my decision to make a career out of painting. She feared I'd end up like my dad. But I reassured her that whatever happens, I'd still stay sane and in contact with my sensibilities.

"Let's end the discussion here. I'll see you next class," everybody sighed in relief as the professor beamed and said those magic words.

I guess it's not just me who wants to get out of this class, pronto. I thought.

I glanced at my wrist watch to check the time. Noreen could be waiting in the cafeteria right now.

I wouldn't say that I considered her as one of my closest friend, but we kind of ended up hanging out together between classes since we were attending the same program.

I was planning on postponing today's meeting with Noreen since it was my birthday. Jack, my long term boyfriend of four years, had planned a special dinner with me.

Just the thought of meeting with Jack brought butterflies in my stomach.

He was a year older than me. Back in high school, he was the popular guy who kept his grades straight A and was active in sports. His eyes were of the most beautiful clear blue eyes I have ever seen. His chiseled jaw was my weakness along with his perfect smile. Girls were swooned by his charm and wit. He never failed to paint my cheeks bright red whenever he gave me kisses and warm hugs.

Many believed we would not last. but Jack and I thought otherwise.

So, here we were- staying strong and we even attended the same university so we could be together as much as possible.

I passed the main cafeteria in no time despite the congestion in the hallways. It was about lunch time. While some late students made a mad dash to their classes, the rest were all heading to the cafeteria to study.

Soon enough, I was in the cafeteria and spotted her in our usual table. She turned her head and I called out her name and she only answered in a faint smile.

Did she and her boyfriend have another fight? I wondered to myself.

I rested my landscape canvas that I'd been carrying around all day. I needed an extra one for a painting I need to finish in Art History class.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

Noreen looked pale and a little stressed out. Her usual shiny chestnut hair had lost its polish and her dark circles were more prominent. She might've been taking the midterms too seriously.

Her eyes seemed dead, breaking me inside. She pressed her lips as she fought back the urge to break down in front of me.

"Did something bad happen?" I asked sincerely, patting her back to soothe her.

She sniffled. "Em, I have a problem."

"Okay, I'm here to listen."

Tears then fell down her cheeks. "Em, I'm eight weeks pregnant."

I held back a breath, unsure of how to react. I looked around me, sighed in relief that nobody heard what she said.

"What did Brandon say?" I was fuming. How could a guy get his girl pregnant and not take a responsibility?

Noreen only shook her head; tears began rushing out of her eyes and broke her eye contact with me.

"The baby's not his," she said, her head shaking from side to side as she buried her face in her palms.

My eyebrows furrowed, shooting her quizzical looks.

"It's Jack's, Em."

The moment she mentioned the name of the love of my life, only God knew what I felt- the heaviness that dropped on my head was unbearable, enough to suck the life out of me. My limbs softened and my vision blurred. Although her voice was faint, the sound of his name only brought me excruciating pain in the chest.

"Pardon me?" How silly of me. I heard her. But somewhere in my heart, I wished for her to take back what she had said and claim that it was a prank.

Oh, that must be it.

Although I was breaking internally because of this horrible joke, I managed to crack a smile. "Come on. Is this a prank? Seriously? On my birthday?"

Instead of an answer, Noreen just shook her head while her tears continued to flow down her face. "Em, I swear it was just a one-time thing and I think the condom broke and-"

"Please, tell me this is just a prank." I continued.

"Brandon and I are constantly fighting and Jack gives me comfort and... and I felt comfortable around him. I'm really sorry." Noreen's voice was low yet I could hear other students chatter behind me.

Jack and Noreen? Since when? Of all the guys she could find comfort with, she chose Jack. She knew how much I loved him.

"I need your help Em. He doesn't want to take responsibility. He loves you and we made a mistake but please! I don't want to raise the child alone," Noreen pled some more, her voice trying very hard to keep it low but the students around us were curiously glancing at us.

I couldn't breathe. There was too much happening, too much information for me to process. I wanted to call her a lot of mean names, but my brain couldn't function.

In my head, I was screaming at her but in reality, I just wanted to get the hell out and pretend none of this ever happened. I gathered my stuff as quickly as possible and left the cafeteria in a rush and pain I couldn't fathom. I bumped a few people on the way but I didn't give a damn.

What was I supposed to do? I loved Jack too that I could see myself in the future with him. I didn't want anybody else to have him!

My head was about to burst from thinking of the most logical way to end my misery.