WIFE IN 365 DAYS

Chapter 05

The polished mahogany of Manuela's desk gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, reflecting the nervous tremor in her hands as she meticulously arranged the papers before her. The impending meeting with Uno, the enigmatic Mr. Urquio, loomed over her like a storm cloud.

A week he’d given her – a week to contemplate the impossible choice he’d presented: marry him for a year, or leave her father’s crippling debt unpaid. The weight of that debt, a suffocating blanket woven from years of her father's poor decisions, pressed down on her chest. She knew, with a chilling certainty, that at the end of that week, the only option left would be to accept. To become his bride, a gilded cage for 365 days.

"Manuela?"

Manuela turned to see Suzie peeking into her office door, a smile on her face.

"You handle things here, Suzie. Wish me luck with whatever Mr. Urquio wants to talk about. If I don't come back alive--"

"--don't even say that, Manuela." Suzie reprimanded her nervously, entering the office and approaching Manuela. Manuela chuckled at the expression on her friend's face.

"I'm just kidding. Surely, even if Mr. Urquio is a mafia boss, he wouldn't just hurt someone without a concrete reason. Don't worry about me, our conversation will probably be fine." Manuela said, slightly surprised when Suzie hugged her.

"Sorry Manuela..."

"Why are you apologizing to me?" Manuela asked, confused, when Suzie released her from the hug. She noticed her friend was crying.

"Suzie? Are you okay?"

"Because, Manuela, Mr. Urquio called me last night. He told me to advise you to accept his offer, and if I didn't, he threatened me that he might do something to my sister and me. So I'm sorry because my advice to you earlier was to accept Mr. Urquio's offer because he instructed me to do so." Suzie confessed to Manuela, who fell silent at her words.

"Forgive me, Manuela, I was just afraid of his threat, so I advised you earlier to accept his offer. I'm really sorry..." Suzie apologized tearfully, prompting Manuela to hold her shoulders.

"Look at me, Suzie..." said Manuela, slowly making Suzie turn to face her.

"You don't need to apologize to me. You just did what Mr. Urquio told you to do because he threatened you. Did he scare you?"

"So-so much..." Suzie responded like a child confessing, making Manuela smile at her friend.

"You take care of things here." Manuela said, picking up her handbag before walking out of her office.

Manuela couldn't help but feel angry at Uno's intimidation and threats towards her friend just to get her to accept his offer. Manuela couldn't believe he would involve others for his personal gain.

The car door slammed shut with a sharp, metallic clang, the sound echoing the turmoil in Manuela's heart. Each breath felt shallow, each heartbeat a frantic drum against her ribs. The sleek lines of her car blurred through the rain-streaked windshield, mirroring the hazy, furious thoughts swirling in her head. A fine dining restaurant – the irony was not lost on her. Uno, that cold, calculating man, had chosen a place of opulent elegance to discuss her father's debt, a debt that was slowly crushing her spirit. And the image that burned in her mind, the image that fueled her simmering rage, was Suzie's tear-stained face, the vulnerability laid bare by Uno's cruel threats. She had to see him, she had to face him, but the desire to lash out, to strike him with the force of her righteous anger, was almost overwhelming. She wanted to slap him, to scream at him, to make him feel even a fraction of the fear he had inflicted on her friend.

The thought of his manipulative tactics, his cold-blooded use of others to achieve his ends, sent a fresh wave of nausea through her. He had given her a week, a cruel charade of choice, but the week was over in her mind. His actions had stripped away any illusion of negotiation, any possibility of a peaceful resolution. The quiet hum of the car engine was a stark contrast to the tempest raging within her. She gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, her nails digging into the leather. The half-hour drive felt like an eternity, each passing moment stretching into an agonizing expanse of anticipation and simmering fury.

Pulling into the restaurant's valet parking, she barely registered the attendant's presence, her eyes already scanning the opulent interior. The plush carpets, the soft lighting, the hushed conversations – all felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the raw emotion that consumed her. She spotted him immediately: Uno, sitting alone in a secluded corner booth, his posture radiating an unnerving stillness. His eyes, dark and intense, met hers across the room, a flicker of something – amusement? Contempt? – crossing his features. He raised a hand in a gesture that was both a greeting and a command.

"That jerk," she breathed, the words barely a whisper, yet charged with an intensity that belied their quietness. The anger, a molten core of resentment and fury, propelled her forward.

Even as she walked towards him, even as she registered the undeniable fact of his striking good looks - his dark hair falling carelessly over his forehead, softening the harsh lines of his face, the expensive suit that seemed to mold itself to his broad shoulders - her anger remained. It was a stark contrast to the first time she had seen him, his hair slicked back, his presence radiating a chilling intimidation. Now, it was a different kind of power, a dangerous allure that only served to heighten her rage.

The elegant setting, the hushed atmosphere, the expensive surroundings – none of it could mask the storm brewing within her. This was not a negotiation; it was a confrontation.

Manuela's arrival at the table was a whirlwind of pent-up fury. She saw the glass of water, crystal clear against the dark mahogany, and in that moment, a primal instinct took over. She snatched it up, the ice-cold glass a stark contrast to the heat of her anger, and flung the water with all her might. It splashed against Uno's face, a cold, stinging shock that seemed to momentarily freeze him in place. His expression remained unreadable, a mask of stoic indifference that only fueled her rage.

"That's for threatening my friend," she spat, her voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. "You wouldn't dare kill me for a little water, would you? You deserve it, by the way." She watched, with a mixture of anger and disbelief, as Uno calmly reached for the tablecloth, the silk cool against his hand, and wiped the water from his face, the gesture a defiant act against the chill that had settled over him.

"I didn't know you greeted people with such… rudeness, Ms. Ibañez," Uno said, his voice a glacial whisper. "A rather unorthodox way to greet someone who could easily end your life." His words were laced with a chilling nonchalance, but Manuela refused to be intimidated.

"You can't kill me, Mr. Urquio," she retorted, her voice gaining strength. "I have a debt to pay you, remember?" A slight smirk played at the corner of his lips, a flicker of amusement at her defiance.

"Before you tell me why you want to speak with me again, let me be clear, Mr. Urquio," she continued, her voice unwavering. "My father's debt is between us. Don't involve other people, people who are innocent in this. You don't need to use people close to me to get me to agree to your offer. Even if I don't want to, I have no choice but to accept. I only asked for a week because this was sudden, and becoming the wife of someone like you is not a joke."

Uno dropped the tablecloth back onto the table, before he coldly looked at Manuela

"Are you finished?" Uno asked, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. Manuela couldn't believe the calm in his voice, the dismissive tone that seemed to belittle her outburst.

"After all that i said, you just ask if I'm finished?" she exclaimed, her anger flaring again.

"Why? Do you have something else to say?" he countered, his gaze unwavering.

The injustice of it all, the sheer audacity of his indifference, made her blood boil. She wanted to throw another glass of water at him, to scream at him until her voice was hoarse. But instead, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to regain control.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked, her voice tight with suppressed rage. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills in the opulent setting of the restaurant.

Without a word, Uno reached for something on the table that Manuela had only just noticed – a brown envelope. He placed it in front of her.

"What's that?" she asked, her voice tight with suspicion.

"See it for yourself," Uno replied flatly. Manuela picked up the envelope and pulled out the contents. Her brow furrowed as she saw the document.

"A contract?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

"As you can see, that's the contract you'll be signing as my wife for 365 days. Read it carefully. If you have any objections, tell me now so I can have my lawyer fix it," Uno said, his tone unwavering. Manuela stared at the contract in her hand, her mind reeling.

"You made a contract even though I haven't agreed to your offer yet?" she exclaimed, her voice rising in frustration.

"As you said a while ago, you have no choice but to agree to my offer, so I prepared that contract ahead." His words were a chilling confirmation of her fears. He had already decided, already moved forward with his plans, as if her agency, her feelings, were mere footnotes in his carefully crafted narrative.

Manuela started reading the contract, her brow furrowing with each line. The words blurred, the carefully crafted legal jargon a meaningless jumble against the overwhelming sense of betrayal and helplessness that washed over her. She glanced up at Uno, clutching the tablecloth and dabbing at his damp suit, her anger simmering beneath the surface.

"My dad owes you two million dollars, but you're going to pay me for acting as your wife? Are you serious? I'm going to pretend to be your wife because my dad owes you money, and you're going to pay me?" she said, her voice filled with confusion and a hint of outrage. The thought of being bought, of her life being reduced to a transaction, was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Being a wife of a person like me as you said is not a joke, I'm a mafia boss so, there will be times your life will put in danger so that money is my compensat--"

"--compensation for what? If I die while playing my role as your wife? You expect me to die because you have so many enemies who could drag me into this if they find out I'm your wife?!" Manuela interrupted, her voice sharp with anger as she turned to face him. The thought of her life being in danger, of being collateral damage in his world, was terrifying.

"Compensation for your job, Ms. Ibañez. Don't get ahead of yourself about what might happen to you. And don't worry, you won't die while you're my wife for 365 days," Uno said flatly.

"Make sure of it, because I have a little brother I don't want to leave alone!" Manuela snapped before continuing to read the contract. The thought of her borther, her only family, being left alone in this world was a terrifying prospect.

"I'm supposed to pretend to be a sweet and caring wife in front of your grandfather?"

"You need to do that so my grandfather believes we got married because of that shity love. I'll do the same acting, so be good at it because my grandfather is observant."

Even at this point, Manuela couldn't imagine how she would act sweet with Uno, especially considering how she knew he had no sweetness in his nature. The thought of pretending to be in love with him, of playing a role in his elaborate charade, felt like a betrayal of her own heart.

"When you said I need to do sweet stuff with you, that doesn't include kissing, right?" Manuela asked, turning to look at him. The thought of physical intimacy with him, of being forced to play a role in a charade of love, filled her with a sense of revulsion.

"If that is necessa--"

"--I will disagree with that. I'm not going to kiss you just to prove to your grandfather that we're in love. No s*x either, I'm not giving my body away so easily!" Manuela interrupted, her face a mask of defiance. Uno stared at her, his expression unreadable.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Ms. Ibañez. You're a woman, but I assure you I won't get a boner if it's you. I'm not interested in your body or kissing you. I said if that is necessary, but I know my grandfather won't ask silly things like that," Uno said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Manuela felt a blush creep up her cheeks at his response, and she cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Go-good, at least we agree on that," she mumbled, before returning her attention to the contract. A new clause caught her eye.

"Falling in love with you is forbidden? What do you think, I'm going to fall in love with you?" she scoffed.

"That's for both of us. While you're acting as my wife for 365 days, make sure you don't fall in love with me. You can be assured I won't fall for you either, since a woman like you is not my type. Now, if you're done reading that sig--"

"--a woman like me? Are you insulting me, Mr. Urquio?" Manuela interrupted, her voice laced with anger. The thought of being deemed "not his type" by this man, who saw her as nothing more than a means to an end, fueled her anger.

"No, I'm just stating the truth. Now, sign it if you have no more questions," Uno said flatly. Manuela glared at the contract, her heart pounding.

She knew that once she signed it, there would be no turning back. She would be Mrs. Urquio for 365 days, and she would be stuck with the man she despised. The thought of her life being dictated by this man, of her freedom being stripped away, filled her with a sense of despair.

Manuela took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and signed the contract. The pen felt heavy in her hand, a symbol of the weight of her decision, the burden she was about to bear.

"Make sure, Mr. Urquio, that I don't get hurt in those 365 days. You're a mafia boss, you have a dangerous life, so I shouldn't die while I'm under your power. Also, I can't leave my brother, if we're living under the same roof, I'm bringing him with me," she said, her voice firm, as she handed the contract back to Uno.

"I may have a dangerous life, but you're safe with me. And do what you please, just make sure your brother isn't a nuisance," Uno replied before rising from his seat. His words were a hollow promise, a statement of control that did little to ease her fear.

"Prepare yourself next week, our marriage will happen after a week," he said plainly before turning and walking out of the restaurant, leaving Manuela standing there, stunned.

"Marriage? Next wee--what? We're getting married next week?!" Manuela exclaimed, jumping to her feet, but Uno was already gone. The thought of a wedding, of a charade of love, of being forced to play a role in his elaborate game, filled her with a sense of despair.

She was left standing there, her face a mask of shock, her mind reeling. The weight of the contract, the looming threat of her new life, the fear for her own safety and the safety of her sister, all pressed down on her, a crushing weight that she felt she might never be able to bear.

"What the? We're getting married? Can't I just be his wife directly? Why do we need a wedding?" Manuela asked herself, her voice a mere whisper, her heart heavy with the weight of her fate. She was trapped, a pawn in a game she never wanted to play, and the only thing she could do was to try to survive.