The Billionaire I Married by Mistake

17. UNDERSTANDING

|Katherine|

“Okay, what is it?” I asked with an exasperated sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as I shot him a glare. He sat on the edge of the bed across from me, calm and unreadable.

“I want to hear the full story—why exactly did you conclude that I was supposed to be your groom?” he asked bluntly, wasting no time.

I straightened my back. Tired as I was, I finally understood why this conversation was necessary. I needed answers too. I needed to know how it was even possible that he didn’t recognize the woman he was supposed to marry.

“Like I said before,” I began, “I was supposed to marry someone named Gavin Ramirez. It was an arranged marriage. My grandfather’s company is on the verge of collapse, and Gavin’s father offered help… under one condition: that I marry his son, Gavin. I knew him by name, but not by face. According to Grandpa’s secretary, Gavin is a very private person who grew up in the States. The wedding this morning was his father’s idea—not mine.”

“And you said you went to the wrong church, right?” he asked.

I nodded slowly.

I went on to tell him everything—how I was mentally and emotionally drained the past few days, how I forgot to charge my phone when I arrived in Manila, and how it was already dead by the time I reached the one landmark I could recognize: a coffee shop.

“I just assumed the church beside it was the right one,” I admitted. “The sacristans thought I was the bride they were waiting for. And you—you assumed the same thing when I arrived.” I shrugged, throwing in all the mistakes like a pile of confessions I’d stopped trying to organize.

He let out a deep sigh at that. His shoulders slumped as he braced one hand behind him and leaned back, tilting his head toward the ceiling in disbelief.

“Like I said earlier,” he began, “I had a friend whom I entrusted with the task of finding me a wife. He gave me zero details about who she would be—”

“Wait, what?” I cut him off, my brows knitting together. “Why would you even let someone do that for you?”

He turned his head to face me, his eyes cold and emotionless. I rolled my eyes and looked away.

“I trusted him,” he said simply. “And honestly, I didn’t have time to look for a wife on my own. My parents have been pressuring me to get married for years. This time, I was forced to do it—because my father made it a condition for me to become the next president of our company. I have to stay married for at least one year.”

That caught my attention. I couldn’t help but turn back to look at him

“My friend gave me a list of potential women who could be my wife,” he began. “But I didn’t like any of the ones he first introduced to me, so I told him to find someone who matched what I was looking for.”

He paused.

Our gazes met and I instantly caught something in his expression. A shadow of regret passed over his face. I shifted slightly in my seat, unsettled.

“What?” I snapped, affronted.

He didn’t answer. He just went on with his story.

“I told him I needed a wife within two weeks. As soon as I arrived back in the Philippines from my business trip, I wanted us to be married right away. I just wanted the one-year countdown to begin immediately. I didn’t care who she was, as long as she had good credentials and wouldn’t demand anything during the marriage. That was all I asked for. So when I got back and asked him for the details about my bride, he said nothing. Just told me it would be a damn surprise. And yeah,” then his eyes flickered with something. A ghost of smirked plastered on his lips. “I was surprised. Seeing you walk down the aisle, realizing you were the one he picked.”

His eyes lingered on mine.

“And that’s also why I had no idea what my future wife looked like. I didn’t even know your name.”

I slowly nodded, too tired to respond with more. A yawn escaped me before I could stop it, and I covered my mouth.

Well… at least now I knew. It wasn’t entirely my fault we ended up in this insane situation.

We got married… by mistake. I married him… by mistake.

Whoever that friend of his was, I was pretty sure Javier would end up blaming him for this whole disaster. As for me? I had no one to accuse but myself. If I had just charged my phone that day, I probably would’ve found the right venue—only to stand there… bride with no groom.

I let out a long breath. At this point, I didn’t know which was worse—marrying the wrong man, or having no wedding at all.

“At some point,” Javier added, cutting through my thoughts, “we share the same reason for getting married by mistake.”

His words startled me. My gaze flew back to him.

“That’s why,” he continued, “I figured… why not just go through with what we’ve started? We’re already here, aren’t we?”

My heavy eyelids blinked, and I lifted my gaze. My heart kicked up in my chest. Despite the fatigue weighing down on me, his words sent a jolt of energy through me—like a lightbulb switching on inside my head.

This was my chance.

He had opened the door. Now I had the perfect opportunity to tell him the real reason why I agreed to this marriage.

I dropped my hands to my lap and turned to face him directly. He noticed the shift and looked at me. I held his gaze—steady, unwavering.

“I agree,” I said.

One of his brows arched, amused by my quick reply. There was something in his eyes, like he hadn’t expected me to say yes so easily—especially not after I had been the one willing to confess the truth to his parents earlier.

“Just like you said, let’s continue this act… and make a deal between us,” I suggested carefully.

He shifted his position, turning to face me fully. One hand braced behind him as he leaned slightly back, his leg bent on the bed while the other remained extended toward the floor. There was curiosity in his eyes as he studied me.

“A deal,” he echoed, nodding slowly. “Alright. I was thinking the same thing. What kind of deal do you have in mind?”

I swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do—but since I was already in this mess, why not take the risk?

Based on what I’d learned about him earlier, I had a feeling he’d consider what I was about to propose. His parents didn’t speak so highly of him for no reason. Even his relatives said the same thing: that the man sitting in front of me was laser-focused on work—disciplined, calculating, and relentless when it came to business. Even his brother had praised him.

“I… I want you to help me save our company,” I finally said, my voice quiet and uncertain. My heart pounded in my chest. There was a huge chance he’d reject me. Who was I to make such a bold request out of nowhere?

“In return, I’ll do my best to be the wife you… need.” My voice faltered into a whisper, and my gaze dropped to my fingers.

My mind couldn’t help but flash back to that night… the night something actually happened between us. I blinked a few times, forcing the memory out of my head as I tried to collect myself. After taking a few calming breaths, I looked up at him again.

“You said you needed a wife with good credentials—someone who wouldn’t bother you during the marriage, right? I can be that woman. I won’t be clingy. I won’t ask for anything from you as my husband. You can focus on your work twenty-four-seven, all year round, and I won’t complain. I’ll exist only as your wife in front of your parents or whenever you need me to play the part,” I offered, inching slightly closer, hands resting on my lap.

“All I’m asking… is for you to help me keep our company afloat—for at least a year—while I try to learn how to manage it on my own.”

He stared at me in silence. I waited, heart thudding louder with each passing second. The longer he didn’t speak, the more anxious I became. I was terrified he’d say no—but at the same time, a small part of me hoped he’d agree.

After all, he was the one who brought up the idea of continuing this fake marriage in the first place.

A yawn escaped me before I could stop it, betraying my exhaustion. My eyelids felt heavier, but I fought to stay alert.

“Hmmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, still giving me that unreadable look. He seemed to be weighing my words carefully. The moment he parted his lips to speak, I instantly straightened, bracing for his answer.

“We’ll talk more about this tomorrow,” he said, standing up from the bed. “For now, go wash up and get some sleep.”

“But—”

“You’re tired already, Katherine,” he interrupted gently, cutting off my protest.

I rolled my eyes. I told him that earlier—did he listen then? But I let it go. At least we were able to talk. At least… we’d reached some kind of understanding.

And somehow, that was enough to help me sleep peacefully tonight—with the small comfort that maybe, just maybe, our company could still be saved… even if our marriage had started out as a mistake.