Chapter 3 The wedding trap

Tristan Fernando was twenty-eight, a tall, striking man with black eyes, a well-chiseled jawline, and the kind of presence that made people take a second look. Standing at 6'3", he turned heads wherever he went-not that he cared much.

He was an engineer. A brilliant one.

Not long after graduation, Tristan invented an engine that could run on water instead of fuel. He patented it, and within months, it became a high-demand commodity. He sold the rights to the highest bidder but made sure to include a lifetime profit percentage in the contract. That single deal made him more money than he could possibly spend.

But money wasn't everything. Not for him.

Despite the board meetings, galas, and luxurious family gatherings, Tristan often felt like a ghost in his own life-present, but hollow inside. Something was missing, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

That was... until the wedding.

Scratch that-a wedding. It wasn't even someone he was close to. His mother had forced him to attend the wedding of her best friend's son. The groom was practically a stranger.

"This is non-negotiable, Tristan," his mother had said. "It would be an insult if my son didn't show up. I already promised you'd attend."

Tristan knew the real reason. His mother had turned the wedding into another one of her matchmaking schemes. She'd been trying to marry him off since he turned twenty-four.

Phoebe Alexandro had been her favorite candidate. Gorgeous, wealthy, and well-connected. She'd loved Tristan since they were kids-but he'd never returned the sentiment. At best, she felt like a sister.

Even after several rejections, Phoebe had clung to hope. His mother, ever persistent, had encouraged her.

One evening, Tristan had finally pulled Phoebe aside and told her gently but firmly, "Phoebe, I care about you. But not in the way you want. You deserve someone who loves you back."

She'd cried, cursed, and stormed out.

His mother hadn't taken the news well. They didn't speak for weeks-until she called crying one night. He caved and agreed to go on a few dates, just to pacify her, making it clear he wasn't promising anything.

Ten dates. Five women.

All disasters.

One slapped a steward for being late with her order. Another slapped him for arriving late-even though it was due to traffic.

But the one that stuck out most? A woman he actually liked. Three dates in two weeks. She was elegant, charming-and utterly obsessed with image. Before each outing, she'd text him: "Wear your Rolex and that Armani blazer. We're going shopping. People might recognize us."

He didn't mind spoiling her at first. But on the third date, he forgot to wear his most expensive watch. When she noticed, she gasped, stepped away, and ran as if he were diseased.

Later that night, she texted: "I can't be seen with someone who lowers my brand. I have a standard."

He blocked her number and called his mom.

"Don't ever set me up again," he snapped. "I'm done."

Then he hung up before she could reply.

A few days later, his father convinced him to forgive her.

"She means well, Tristan," his father said. "But I understand how exhausting it is."

Reluctantly, he patched things up with his mother-only to get invited to the wedding.

He had a bad feeling, but he went.

And there she was.

The materialistic ex, in a wedding gown, marrying the groom-his childhood acquaintance.

As she stood at the altar, she spotted him in the crowd and winked. Then she dramatically fixed her makeup like she was the star of a red carpet event.

Tristan almost laughed out loud. He'd dodged a missile, not just a bullet.

When the ceremony ended, he joined the long line of guests heading up to greet the newlyweds. He tapped the groom on the back.

The man turned around. Confused at first. Then his eyes widened.

"Tristan Fernando? No way! Look at you. Last time I saw you, you were shorter than that buffet table over there."

Tristan smirked. "Correction-you were shorter. I was always taller than you."

"Classic Tristan," the groom laughed. "Man, I've followed your success. You built that water engine, right? That was genius."

Tristan gave a mock bow. "Guilty. But you're not doing bad yourself, groom of the year."

"Please," the groom muttered with a forced smile. "Don't congratulate me just yet."

Tristan raised a brow. "What's wrong?"

The groom glanced at the bride, now posing for pictures, then sighed. "I think I've made a huge mistake."

Tristan chuckled. "Come on, you're marrying one of the most beautiful women in the room. What could possibly be wrong?"

"She was with you before me, wasn't she?"

Tristan lifted his hands. "Hey, we went on a couple dates. Nothing serious. Trust me-I backed out quick."

"I figured," the groom said, shaking his head. "You've always had principles."

Tristan dragged two chairs over and gestured for him to sit. "Alright. Spill it. What really happened?"

The groom rubbed his forehead. "It started four weeks ago. I met her, was smitten by her beauty. Two weeks in, she told me she was pregnant."

Tristan frowned. "That fast?"

The groom nodded. "Her parents were thrilled. Her dad's company was on the verge of collapse. Massive debts. He has a gambling addiction, misuses company funds... it's a mess. But he's well-connected-and my father wants those connections for his upcoming election. A deal was struck. My father invested in the business, and in return, I got engaged."

"So... an arranged deal disguised as a love story," Tristan said grimly.

"Exactly. We took pre-wedding photos, went shopping at designer stores for the paparazzi, and now-here we are."

"What about Olivia?" Tristan asked softly.

The groom's eyes dropped. "The one I really loved. A nurse. One night she said she had to work late. Next thing she saw were photos of me and her at a mall. I lied. Told her it was just a friend. Two days later, the engagement was on TV. She hasn't picked my calls since."

Tristan sighed. "That's brutal. But why rush the wedding?"

"Dad's election is in a month. Her dad has a big shareholders meeting in two weeks. If they find out the company's bankrupt, the board will dissolve everything. They're trying to hold it all together with this marriage."

"And your bride?" Tristan asked.

The groom rolled his eyes. "She's overjoyed. Thinks being the governor's daughter-in-law is her big break. She's obsessed with status. This morning, she saw me putting on a black suit and screamed it had to be white-for the cameras."

Suddenly, they both turned at the sound of yelling.

"Are you insane? Do you know how much this dress cost? There are more zeros in that price tag than in the entire binary system!"

It was the bride, yelling at a steward who'd nearly spilled a drink on her gown.

"This dress is one of a kind, made exclusively for me! Get out of here, you... you peasant!"

The steward practically bolted.

Tristan stood up. "She's heading this way. I should let you deal with that."

He extended his hand. "I wish you the best, man. It won't be easy-but I hope it turns out okay."

His friend grabbed his hand, then pulled him into a hug. "Learn from my mistake, Tristan. Never let anyone choose for you. Stay in touch."

Tristan nodded and made his way back to his seat.

His mind buzzed with thoughts. His friend's story was heartbreaking-and eye-opening. He needed to stand firm. No one would dictate who he could or couldn't love.

That was when he heard her voice.

"Tristan, dear! I've been looking everywhere for you," his mother said, rushing over. "Isn't this wedding lovely? Doesn't it make you think it's time to settle down?"

He took a deep breath. Here we go again.

"I want to introduce you to someone," she added, linking her arm with his.

Tristan forced a smile. "Not now, Mother. I'm a bit hungry. Maybe after I eat?"

She gave him a knowing look but nodded. "Fine. But don't sneak out after eating-you know I'll find you."

She waved over a steward. "Take his order, quickly."

Tristan sighed and rubbed his temples.

He needed a plan... and maybe a fake girlfriend.