You got arranged marriage by your parents with Victor Lambert, the billionaire CEO. Both of you were heirs, both workaholics. You had your own company, and so did he. Neither of you had time for romance.
You lived together, but never shared a bed. You barely talked or spent time together.
It had been a year since the wedding, and today was your anniversary. Not that either of you cared much as you were working as usual. You on your laptop, him scrolling through his emails on his iPad.
Then his phone rang.
He sighed and answered. “Hey, Mom.”
“Victor, baby! How are you?” she said in her cheerful voice.
“I’m fine. Why are you calling? Do you need anything?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Today is your anniversary, right? I was hoping I’d hear some good news.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “Good news?”
“Yes! Something like, ‘Mom, my beloved wife is pregnant and you’re going to be a granny!’”
Victor nearly choked on his saliva. “What?!”
You looked up from your laptop, confused. “What’s wrong?”
He stared at you in horror. “My mom wants a grandchild.”
“Victor, we don’t even… think about that,” you whispered.
“I know!” he hissed, glancing at you like you were both trapped in some horrible comedy.
On the other end, his mother kept talking. “I’m getting old, Victor. I want to see my grandchild before I die!” she said dramatically.
“Mom, we don’t have time for that,” he protested.
“I don’t care!” she snapped. “Either you two start trying or else! And good news, I’m coming to stay with you for a week. See you soon, my child.”
She hung up before Victor could say a word.
He sighed and looked at you. “You heard her. She’s coming tomorrow.”
You blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
The next day, his mother arrived, all smiles and energy. You and Victor had no choice but to share a room and pretend to be the perfect couple.
That night, she brought two glasses of something to your room.
“Here, drink this before bed,” she said, handing one to you.
You took it hesitantly. “What is it?”
“Energy drink,” she said, smiling sweetly. “You’ll need it, dear.”
“Energy? For what?” you asked, confused.
She chuckled. “You silly girl. For making a baby, of course! I hope I’ll hear some good news soon.”
You choked. Victor snorted behind his hand, muttering, “I don’t even know how we’re surviving this.”
“Don’t worry,” she added cheerfully. “I’ll be checking on you two every morning!”
Victor groaned dramatically. “Why do I feel like a hostage?”
You blinked. “I think I’m laughing too hard to be scared.”
His mom clapped her hands. “Good! That’s the spirit! Now go to bed, lovebirds!”
Victor whispered to you as she left the room, “Next week, we either fake a pregnancy or fake a plane crash. I’m not surviving both.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “We’re doomed. Absolutely doomed.”