"If you want to clean your name, I can help you. But you need to offer me something in return."
This man wouldn't take a no. I was sure of that. His eyes were determined to make me say yes to his proposal.
Men were really dangerous creatures.
"You saw how much power I hold. I got your case dismissed, but you are still painted as the murderer. You need to get ahold of your life and career. You can't do it all by yourself, not when your enemies are vultures who would swallow you whole before you can make your move."
He was right. I needed help.
"What do you want from me?" I asked with a firm voice.
I realized he couldn't be doing this simply because he was my fan.
Gregory Brandt didn't look like a lovesick fool who would marry someone just because he was a fan of them. He had both looks and riches, and his aura screamed authority. The way he spoke… he was surely a calculative person. The dangerous type.
"Marry me," he simply said.
"Why? How would it benefit you?" I smiled. "Is this a new political tactic? I'm sorry, I'm an Arts graduate, so I'm not very knowledgeable about politics. I might need a thorough explanation."
"Yes, let's say it will benefit me politically. I need someone with a story I can twist to my liking to gain publicity, and you are perfect."
"A story you can twist? So what, you want to take advantage of what happened to me?"
My forehead creased. I didn't like the sound of that.
"Yes. But if you work with me, the truth of your husband's death will be revealed, and the real culprit will get what they deserve."
Hmm, now that seemed interesting.
"But why do you need my story to gain publicity?"
His eyes squinted darkly. "That much is what I can tell you for now. If you say yes, we can revisit that topic."
"You're shady," I muttered.
"And you don't have better options to be picky."
Fine. I'd agree to that, all right. I was once famous, and many people wanted to gain my favor then. But now that I had fallen, they were nowhere to be found, too scared to get involved.
Now that I thought of it, being a First Lady didn't sound so bad, if that meant I'd get out of that filthy cell. If the president was sincere about helping the truth get revealed, then that was much better.
My stomach suddenly churned.
Mr. President's gaze fell on my stomach. "Isn't the station giving rations to the detainees?"
I rubbed my stomach and smiled sheepishly. "Well, they do. But the food is rather bland and isn't enough to fill me. You should allocate more budget for that so the prisoners wouldn't get hungry."
"The prison isn't a hotel. People are smart enough to know what they shouldn't do, and yet they do it regardless. Now, I don't see why it is the government's responsibility to make them comfortable in prison."
"But what about those people who were wrongly accused like me?"
"Were you wrongly accused, though?"
My lips parted. "What kind of question is that? You think I did it?" I grew flustered. "B-but you mentioned you'll help me reveal the truth of my husband's death, so I thought you believe I am not the real culprit. Why else would you say something like that?"
He didn't answer and instead took out his phone.
"Did you only say that to make me agree?"
Did he decide to help me even without knowing if I was the real culprit?
I stared at the man across from me. I'd seen him many times on television and the internet. He looked a lot better and more commanding in person. But I thought he was an advocate of justice. Wouldn't it have mattered if I was a criminal?
"I don't have proof, but I think you didn't do it." He lifted his gaze to me as he slid his phone back into his pocket.
"Why? Because I look like a sweet angel who can't hurt a bug?" I scoffed. That's what people often called me because of my appearance. "What if I did it? Would you still ask me to marry you?"
A glint of amusement crossed his eyes briefly.
The car stopped, and I looked out of the window. The windows were heavily tinted, but I could roughly see where we were. The car was parked somewhere near a building in a quiet street.
"Why did we stop? Where will you bring me?"
I didn't get an answer. I clicked my tongue in annoyance when Mr. President only leaned back and closed his eyes.
Minutes later, the door of the car opened. The driver handed me a paper bag and closed the door right away.
I immediately smelled the food from the paper bag. It felt like seeing stars.
"While you eat, think about my proposal," the president muttered with his eyes still closed.