Claudia Anastasia Araneta was a top actress in the Philippines.
She wasn't just beautiful; she was wealthy, coming from one of the most powerful and affluent families in the country. The Araneta name was practically royalty, with interests in malls, luxury hotels, real estate, and private islands.
But her world wasn't as glamorous as it looked.
Her parents had different plans for her life. In their circles, the billionaire class, entertainment was a hobby at best, a disgrace at worst. The serious work was building empires. They expected her to take over the family businesses, not stand in front of cameras.
They wanted her to have a respectable career, a solid legacy, and, of course, a proper partner. Someone they could proudly introduce in their charity galas and board meetings.
But Claudia refused. Acting was her life. That was the world she wanted, no matter how much they pushed.
—
I arrived at Araneta Tower with my bodyguards close behind. Employees lined the lobby, waiting to greet me.
They always did.
"Good morning, Ma'am," they chorused.
I gave them a curt nod and headed straight for the private elevator.
People stepped back automatically, some even leaving the car entirely when I entered.
Not because i asked.
Because they assumed.
Because they were afraid.
Inside my office, I tossed my sunglasses onto the desk and sank into my chair. Stacks of paperwork waited for me a deals, contracts, letters of intent, all of it piled up while i was on vacation.
I hadn't even started reading when Vanessa, my assistant, knocked and walked in without waiting for permission. She'd earned the right.
"What's first on the agenda?" I asked, flipping through pages.
She checked her tablet. "You have pending approvals for the new endorsements, a conference call at two, and—" She hesitated.
I looked up. "And what?"
She sighed and placed a folder in front of me.
"You'll want to see this."
I scanned the document. My eyes narrowed.
A loan contract, three million pesos. The name was unfamiliar.
I slammed it down.
"Whose signature is this?"
"Samuel's," Vanessa said calmly.
Of course. My brother.
"Call him," I snapped.
Minutes later, Samuel walked in, feigning innocence.
I didn't say a word. I just hurled the folder at him.
He caught it awkwardly. "Ate, let me explain—"
"Three million pesos," I cut in. "Of my money."
"It was for a friend," he said carefully. "She got scammed out of crypto. She didn't have anyone else."
"Not my problem."
He bristled. "Ate, she was desperate. I was helping."
"Without asking."
He fell silent.
"Who is she?"
"Viviena Cane Gutierrez."
The name rang a vague bell, but i didn't care enough to place it.
I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Set a meeting with her," I said finally. "If she can't pay, she'll wish she had."
Samuel opened his mouth to argue, thought better of it, and left.
—
We wrapped the press conference a little past two in the afternoon.
I was exhausted, my cheeks hurting from forced smiles. My team ushered me to a small lounge while reporters packed up outside. My assistant, Vanessa, handed me a bottle of water.
"You okay?" she asked quietly.
I just nodded, tugging at the hem of my designer dress. My stylist fussed over my hair, trying to tame the loose strands.
"That last question was out of line," Vanessa muttered, scowling at her tablet.
I shrugged. "It always is."
They'd asked about the dating rumors. The usual. Was I seeing my co-star? When was I getting married? Did I plan to quit acting to "settle down"?
The press loved that narrative: beautiful actress, powerful family, lonely heiress who needed a man to "tame" her.
I hated it.
But this was the life i chose.
Vanessa's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and sighed. "Your mom wants to know what time you'll be home."
"Tell her I'll be back for dinner," I said.
"Claudia," she hesitated. "You sure? They sounded… insistent."
I capped the water. "They're always insistent."
—
By seven, I was back in the car, makeup wiped clean, hair in a messy braid. No cameras. No interviews. Just me.
The driver tried to make conversation. I stared out the window instead.
When we finally pulled up to the family house, a tasteful, expensive old mansion with giant gates—I let out a breath.
Home.
Sort of.
Inside, the lights were warm. Smelled like garlic and onions frying in butter, lol, as if i can smell. My mother insisted our cook make "real" Filipino food, even though she was a notorious health nut.
My parents were already at the dining table. Dad with his usual newspaper. Mom tapping on her tablet, reviewing financial reports for one of the family businesses.
Samuel was there too, hunched over, spoon in hand, eyes darting up at me like a nervous puppy.
I walked in and dropped my bag on a side chair.
"Hi," I said flatly.
"Claudia," my mom said, in that tone that meant sit down now.
I sat.
For a moment it was quiet, save for utensils clinking.
I picked at the food, appetite gone.
Finally, Dad set his paper down and cleared his throat.
Here it comes.
"Claudia," he said.
I didn't look up. "Yeah?"
"Your mom and I want to talk to you."
My stomach tensed. "About?"
Mom exhaled. "About your future."
There it was.
I let my spoon clatter onto my plate. "Here we go."
"Claudia," Dad warned quietly.
I raised my brows. "Fine. Go on."
Mom rested her elbows on the table. "You're twenty-seven now. You're established. Successful. But… you're alone."
I let out a humorless laugh. "Alone? I have an entire team breathing down my neck 24/7."
Mom didn't smile. "You know what we mean."
Silence.
Samuel was dead silent, chewing very, very slowly.
Dad cleared his throat again. "We're proud of you, hija. Truly. You've built something incredible. We just… worry."
I swallowed. "About what?"
He didn't look away. "About what happens later. When the cameras go away. When things slow down. Who's going to be there for you?"
My jaw tightened. "I can take care of myself."
"You shouldn't have to do it all alone," Mom said gently. "We just want you to have someone. A partner. Someone you trust."
I crossed my arms. "So this is about marriage."
Dad nodded. "Yes."
I closed my eyes, exhaling.
Mom leaned forward. "Listen to us. We're not telling you to quit acting. You love it, we get it. We'll support that. Always. But, Claudia, you need someone in your corner for the rest of your life."
I opened my eyes. "So if i get married, you'll finally shut up about it?"
Dad raised a brow. "If you're with someone who'll look after you? Yes. You can keep acting as long as you want. We won't say another word."
Silence fell over the table.
I looked at Samuel, who suddenly found his rice very interesting.
Mom spoke carefully. "We're not asking you to give anything up. We're just asking you to build a life with someone. You can have both, Claudia."
I ran a hand through my hair. "What if i don't want to get married right now?"
Dad sighed. "Then let us help."
My head snapped up. "Help?"
Mom gave me a measured look. "We know someone. He's a good man. Responsible. Successful. We think you'd get along."
My mouth dropped open. "You're setting me up? Seriously?"
Samuel tried to stifle a cough.
Dad stayed calm. "We're not forcing anything. Just… meet him. Talk. That's all."
I scoffed. "Who is it?"
"Andres Rivera," Mom said softly. "You know the family. They're old friends. He's around your age. Runs his family's companies."
I shook my head immediately. "No."
Mom's voice got tight. "At least consider it."
"No."
"Claudia."
"I said no."
The table went still.
Dad set his utensils down carefully. "Then bring us someone else."
My eyes narrowed. "What?"
"If you won't even meet Andres, then prove you don't need us finding someone for you," he said evenly.
Mom nodded. "Bring him here. For dinner. Next week."
My stomach dropped.
Samuel actually froze mid-chew, eyes darting between us.
My mouth felt dry.
Dad leaned back, crossing his arms. "If you have someone serious, bring him. We'll meet him. And if he's the right kind of man, that's it. We'll let you be. You can keep acting forever. We'll never bring it up again."
Mom added softly, "We just want to see that you won't be alone."
Silence.
I swallowed hard.
Samuel coughed into his napkin to cover what sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Finally, I forced a smile. "Of course I have someone."
Dad raised a brow. "Name?"
Shit.
My brain went blank.
I felt Samuel watching me gleefully.
"…No need to know, he's private," I blurted.
Samuel actually snorted.
I picked up my glass of water, hand shaking slightly.
But inside?
I was screaming.
I had one week to find myself a fake boyfriend. Bullshit.