Page 80 of Secret Baby for my Off-Limits Fiancé

He hands me the box. "Take a look."

I hesitate before opening it.

Inside, nestled against the plush velvet, is my mother’s ring.

The weight of it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.

"She always wanted me to pass it on to you when the time was right."

I stare at the ring, my fingers brushing over the delicate band.

The diamonds catch the light, gleaming like something out of a dream.

Or a reality I wasn’t prepared for.

Yes, Layla and I have already discussed the engagement. This shouldn’t surprise me.

My father had always wanted me to marry young, just as he had. But now, holding the ring in my hands, the moment feels… surreal.

I swallow hard. "It’s beautiful."

My father smiles, his expression tinged with nostalgia. "I think Layla will appreciate the sentimentality behind it. She seems like someone who cares deeply about things like that."

I press my lips together and quickly close the box, shoving it into my pocket.

Something dark twists inside me. Guilt, again, but sharper this time.

This ring belonged to my mother. It was given in love, built on something real, something sacred. And here I am, using it for a lie.

It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel fair.

And yet, I pocket it anyway.

Because I know what’s at stake.

My father’s trust. The company. My future.

This is the right decision. The practical decision.

But as the weight of the ring presses against my leg, something inside me whispers that I’m making a mistake.

"Have you already been thinking about proposing?" My father’s eyes sharpen with curiosity.

"I have," I say too quickly, fumbling over my words before he has a chance to question me. "We’re already serious. This feels like the next natural step."

I picture it, kneeling in front of Layla, slipping this ring onto her finger.

It should feel hollow, given the reason behind our arrangement. But it doesn’t.

There’s a warmth in my chest, a sense of rightness I didn’t expect.

"I’m sure she’ll say yes," my father says with certainty.

I grip the box inside my pocket, my fingers pressing into the velvet. "How do you even work up the courage to propose?"

For once, I’m not just playing my role. I genuinely want to know.

My father chuckles. "It’s natural to be nervous. If you’re really worried, you could ask her parents for their blessing first."

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