The Substitute Heiress

The Shadow of the Engagement

Chapter 6: The Shadow of Engagement

Cassandra

From the moment Warrick and I announced our engagement, the press hasn't left us alone for a second. Every step we take, every gesture, every look becomes news. The paparazzi follow us everywhere, and the cameras seem to be an extension of our shadow. There's no place where we can hide, no corner where we can be ourselves, although the truth is, I have no idea who we really are.

The news of the perfect engagement has dominated all the headlines. Photos of our kiss at the gala are repeated over and over in newspapers and magazines. Social media is flooded with comments and opinions from people we don't know, but who feel entitled to opine about our lives.

"Aren't you tired of all this?" I asked Warrick one morning while reading the headlines on my phone.

"It's part of the deal, Cass," he responded indifferently, without looking up from his computer. "You knew this would come when you agreed."

"Yes, but it's one thing to know it and another to live it."

Warrick sighed, closing his laptop and looking at me with a mixture of exasperation and patience. "We have to endure it, at least for a while. It's the price to pay for keeping up appearances."

I didn't respond. I knew he was right, but that didn't make it any easier to bear.

***

Warrick's mother and mine took charge of the wedding planning from the very beginning, which honestly took a huge burden off my shoulders because I have little interest in planning everything. They only asked Warrick and me to choose from the options they would offer us. One each. That seemed easy enough, and we both agreed. Meanwhile, they set up in my parents' house, which quickly became the headquarters for the preparations. From what I could see, the meetings were endless, and the decisions overwhelming. Dresses, flowers, menus, guest lists. Every detail was discussed and reviewed a thousand times, and I only became more overwhelmed seeing so many things.

"This wedding has to be perfect," Warrick's mother repeated constantly, as if it were a mantra.

"Of course it will be," my mother always responded with a smile. "Our children deserve the best."

The worst part is that nothing they chose ever quite suited me, but my pride wouldn't let me get fully involved in the initial wedding decisions. For them, it was all about what others wanted, what society expected. Every day, I felt more like a puppet, moved by invisible strings I couldn't cut. And yes, that was the plan, but each time I felt more suffocated by the farce being built around me, and I was afraid that in the future, it would all come crashing down on me.

One afternoon, while we were reviewing the floral arrangements, I took advantage of a moment of silence to slip away and find Warrick. There was something that had been bothering me, and although some time had passed since it happened, I couldn't shake the image from my mind. Seeing the photo in the newspapers and on social media over and over again made me feel terrible, and I couldn't keep bottling up what I needed to say.

I found him in the library, engrossed in his phone.

"I need to talk to you," I said, closing the door behind me.

Warrick looked up, raising an eyebrow. "About what?"

"About the kiss at the gala."

He set his phone aside and looked at me intently. "What about it?"

"You kissed me without warning, without asking if I was okay with it. I felt exposed, used. And every time I see it again, I feel the same way. It's the only photo they keep publishing over and over, and I don't like it one bit."

Warrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Cass, it was part of the show. People expected something like that. It was an impulse of the moment."

"But you can't decide that for me," I insisted, trying to stay calm. "You can't just kiss me whenever you feel like it to keep up appearances."

Warrick stood up and walked closer, his eyes locked on mine. "Don't be so prudish, Cassandra. It's just a kiss. It doesn't mean anything."

His words felt like a punch in the chest. Of course, I had forgotten I was talking to a womanizer. For me, though, being a woman with little experience in love and remembering that my last relationship had ended a couple of years ago, I didn't like things to be so trivial.

A kiss had to be felt, given because both wanted it. Yes, I may not go around being like him, but at least I have a clear conscience that I will never hurt anyone by using it. Warrick is the complete opposite of me; until our agreement, he had been a one-woman-per-night man. For him, kisses probably meant the same as a cockroach, but well... I am not him and I will never be.

"I'm not like the women you're used to, Warrick. Our relationship is strictly about pretending in public; that doesn't include kisses or anything else."

Warrick looked at me with a mixture of incredulity and amusement. "Do you really think a kiss is that important? Let me show you something."

Without giving me time to react, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me close. His lips pressed against mine with a firmness that left no room for doubt. This kiss was neither soft nor brief. It was intense, almost possessive. I tried to pull away, but Warrick held me tight.

"See?" he murmured against my lips. "It's just a kiss. It doesn't hurt anyone and makes the press very happy."

I felt a mix of anger and confusion. I managed to break free from his grip and slapped him. Warrick didn't move; he just looked at me with a surprised expression.

"Don't ever do that again," I said with a trembling voice. "Don't kiss me again without my permission."

Warrick touched his cheek and gave a crooked smile. "Alright, Cass, but you need to understand that in this game, some things are necessary."

I left the library feeling more confused than ever. That kiss, far from clarifying things, had only added a new layer of complexity to our already complicated relationship.

***

The following days were filled with small frictions and tensions. Warrick and I tried to maintain appearances in public, but in private, it was increasingly difficult to pretend everything was fine, especially because it was hard for me to be around him, remembering his womanizing ways, which filled me with more and more anger. Our arguments became more frequent, and disagreements more difficult to resolve.

One afternoon, while we were reviewing the invitation cards, Warrick made a comment about one of my childhood friends.

"I don't think it's a good idea to invite Thomas," he said, examining the list.

"Why not?" I asked, feeling a twinge of annoyance. "He's one of my best friends."

"Precisely for that reason. I don't want any distractions at our wedding."

"Distractions? Thomas is a family friend. He's not going to cause any problems."

"Cass, I've already decided. He's not invited," Warrick said, not giving me a chance to argue.

I stared at him, trying to contain my anger. "You can't make that decision on your own. This is our wedding."

"It's our wedding, but some decisions are mine to protect you."

"Protect me? From what?"

"From anything that could interfere with the image we're building."

"This isn't just about an image, Warrick. It's about our lives, our relationships. You can't control everything."

"I'm doing it for your good, Cass. For our good."

I felt like the conversation was going in circles. Warrick seemed incapable of seeing beyond his vision of perfection. I decided to leave it alone, but inside, my frustration continued to grow.