villa that the production crew had shown us. It was massive. Too massive. The so-called "couple's villa for Rank 1" was practically a luxury mansion with white marble steps, glass-paneled doors, and a small private garden with roses and lavender blooming in perfect harmony.
But I didn't care about any of that.
I kept walking ahead, pretending the man behind me didn't exist.
Hugo.
His footsteps were calm, unfazed, as if he wasn't bothered that I had been ignoring him since the moment the director announced we were in first place. The fans were probably screaming in their living rooms right now, spending ridiculous amounts of coins just to watch us walk together like this.
Couple of the Year? Please. What a joke.
