Updated Oct 23, 2025 • ~10 min read
LINA’S POV
Bed rest was torture.
Three days of lying still while the world fell apart around me. Three days of Seb working from the bedroom, his laptop balanced on his knees, stress written across every line of his face.
Three days of waiting for the next disaster.
“You need to eat,” Seb said, bringing in soup for the third time today.
“I’m not hungry.”
“The baby needs you to eat.”
“The baby is going to be taken away by her biological father because we committed immigration fraud. Food seems irrelevant.”
“Lina—”
“I’m sorry. I know you’re trying.” I took the soup. “Any word from Natalia?”
“She’s building our case. Gathering witnesses. Stella agreed to testify. My mother is flying back.”
“Your mother? Seb, she just left two weeks ago.”
“She wants to help. And honestly, having her testify about seeing us together, seeing how we interact…” He ran a hand through his hair. “We need all the help we can get.”
My phone buzzed. Another text from the unknown number.
Jasper’s lawyer has emails. From the beginning. Be prepared.
My blood ran cold. “Seb.”
I showed him the message.
“What emails?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I never emailed him about the arrangement. It was all in person or—” I stopped. “The lawyer. When he first hired Damian Thornton. What if I said something? What if there’s a paper trail?”
“We’ll deal with it. Natalia will—”
“Natalia can’t make evidence disappear!” I threw off the blankets, standing despite the doctor’s orders. “This is over, Seb. We’re going to lose everything.”
“You’re supposed to be resting—”
“I can’t rest! I can’t just lie here while our life falls apart!” I was crying now, ugly sobs that made my chest hurt. “We should never have done this. We should never have gotten married. This is all my fault.”
“Lina, stop—”
“No! If I hadn’t needed money, if I hadn’t been so desperate, none of this would be happening. You’d be fine. You’d have your green card without any issues. And our daughter would—” I couldn’t finish.
Seb pulled me into his arms, holding me while I fell apart.
“Listen to me,” he said firmly. “If you hadn’t agreed to marry me, we never would have met. I never would have fallen in love with you. Our daughter wouldn’t exist. And yes, things are hard right now. Yes, we’re scared. But I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
“Even if you get deported?”
“Even then.” He tilted my face up. “Because loving you—having you, having our daughter—that’s worth any consequence.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.” He kissed my forehead. “Now get back in bed before Dr. Coleman finds out I let you stand up and murders me.”
SEB’S POV
While Lina slept, I went through my files.
Every document from when we’d first arranged the marriage. I’d kept them, stupidly, thinking I might need them for the green card application. Now they were evidence of fraud.
I found the original agreement. Two pages, outlining payment terms, living arrangements, duration. Clinical and cold and nothing like what we’d become.
I should burn it. Destroy all evidence.
But what if they already had copies? What if destroying it made things worse?
My phone rang. Declan.
“I heard,” he said without preamble. “Mama told me everything. Seb, what the hell?”
“I don’t need a lecture right now.”
“I’m not lecturing. I’m asking how I can help.”
The offer caught me off guard. “What?”
“You’re my brother. You’re in trouble. Tell me how to help.”
“I don’t know if you can. This is bad, Dec. Really bad.”
“So we make it less bad. I can testify. Video call from Milan. Tell them I’ve seen you with Lina, that the marriage is clearly real.”
“You’ve never even met her in person.”
“But I’ve talked to you. I’ve heard how you are now versus how you were before. That means something.” He paused. “Seb, you’re happy. Genuinely happy. For the first time since Papa died. That’s not fake.”
“Tell that to immigration.”
“I will. Just say the word.”
After we hung up, I sat in the quiet apartment, surrounded by evidence of a life that started as a lie but became the most honest thing I’d ever done.
I opened my laptop and started writing.
To Whom It May Concern,
My name is Sebastian Santoro, and I am writing to explain the circumstances of my marriage to Lina Moreno.
When we met six months ago, I was facing deportation. Lina was facing financial hardship. We entered into an agreement—a marriage that would solve both our problems.
On paper, it was a transaction. A solution to two separate crises.
But life doesn’t stay on paper.
I stopped. Read what I’d written. Deleted it all.
This wasn’t the answer. Confessing wouldn’t save us. It would destroy us faster.
But lying felt impossible now.
LINA’S POV
I found the letter by accident.
Seb had fallen asleep at his desk, and I was covering him with a blanket when I saw it. A handwritten letter, half-finished, sitting next to his laptop.
Lina,
If you’re reading this, it means things went badly. The immigration interview. The custody hearing. All of it.
I need you to know that none of this is your fault. You didn’t ruin my life—you gave me one. A real one. Full of love and purpose and a daughter I can’t wait to meet.
If I’m deported, don’t wait for me. Build a life with our daughter. Be happy. That’s all I want.
But know this: I love you. Completely. Permanently. In a way that transcends geography or circumstance. You’re it for me. You always will be.
Yours forever, Seb
My hands shook as I read it. Read it again.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Seb said quietly behind me.
I turned. “You’re writing goodbye letters?”
“Just… preparing. In case.”
“In case what? In case you give up?”
“In case we lose, Lina. In case they deport me and you’re here alone with the baby and—”
“Stop.” I crossed to him. “We’re not doing this. We’re not preparing to lose. We’re fighting.”
“I am fighting—”
“Then fight like you believe we can win!” My voice cracked. “Because if you’ve already decided we’re going to lose, then what’s the point?”
“The point is I love you enough to want you to be okay even if I’m not here!”
“Well I don’t want to be okay without you!” I was shouting now, tears streaming down my face. “I want to fight for this. For us. For our daughter. And I need you to fight too. Not write goodbye letters. Not prepare for the worst. Fight.”
He stared at me, something breaking in his expression.
“I’m scared,” he said quietly. “I’m so scared of losing you. Of losing her. Of everything we’ve built just… disappearing.”
“Me too. But Seb, we can’t give up. Not yet.”
He pulled me into his arms, and I felt him shaking. My strong, steady husband—finally letting himself break.
“What if fighting isn’t enough?” he whispered.
“Then we fight harder.”
SEB’S POV
The next morning, I called Jasper.
“We need to talk,” I said when he answered.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t care. Meet me. Today. Or I’m showing up at your office.”
An hour later, we sat in the same coffee shop where this all started. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
“You reported us to immigration,” I said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie. Your lawyer contacted them. Provided evidence. You’re trying to destroy us so you can take full custody.”
“I’m trying to protect my child.”
“By taking her from her mother? From the only stable home she’s ever known?”
“Stable? You married Lina for a green card. You committed fraud. That’s not stable.”
“We fell in love,” I said quietly. “Real love. The kind that changes everything. Just because it started unconventionally doesn’t make it less real.”
“Love doesn’t erase fraud.”
“Maybe not. But it means something.” I leaned forward. “Jasper, you want to be a father. I get that. But this—tearing apart Lina’s life, trying to deport me, using our daughter as a weapon—that’s not fatherhood. That’s revenge.”
“It’s not revenge. It’s—” He stopped. Looked away. “You don’t understand. When Lina told me she was pregnant, I panicked. And then she’d already moved on. Already married. To you. And I just… I felt like I’d lost something I never got to have.”
“So you tried to take it by force.”
“I tried to claim what was mine.”
“A baby isn’t property, Jasper. And Lina isn’t yours. She never was.” I kept my voice level, though I wanted to scream. “But our daughter? She deserves better than parents who are at war. She deserves to grow up in a home full of love, not legal battles.”
“What are you asking me to do?”
“Drop the custody challenge. Stop trying to destroy our marriage. Let us raise our daughter together, with you involved as her biological father. Co-parent. Like we agreed.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then we all lose. Lina loses her daughter. You lose your chance at a relationship with her. And our daughter loses everything.” I stood. “Think about it. You have until the hearing to decide what kind of father you want to be.”
I walked out before he could respond, my hands shaking with adrenaline.
It was a gamble. A massive, terrifying gamble.
But we were out of options.
LINA’S POV
“You did what?” I stared at Seb in disbelief.
“I talked to him. Tried to reason with him.”
“Seb, he’s trying to destroy us!”
“I know. But what if he’s just scared? What if underneath all the legal posturing, he’s just a guy who wants to be a father and doesn’t know how?”
“So you’re sympathizing with him now?”
“I’m trying to find a way through this that doesn’t end with us losing everything.” He sat next to me. “Lina, fighting isn’t working. Maybe… maybe we need to try something else.”
“Like what? Surrendering?”
“Like showing him we’re not his enemy. That there’s room for everyone in our daughter’s life.”
I wanted to argue. To tell him he was being naive. But looking at his face—exhausted and desperate and still fighting—I couldn’t.
“What if it doesn’t work?” I asked quietly.
“Then at least we tried. At least we can say we did everything possible.”
My phone buzzed. Natalia.
Emergency hearing moved up. Tomorrow at 2 PM. Be ready.
Tomorrow. We had less than twenty-four hours.
“Seb,” I showed him the message.
He read it, and I watched color drain from his face.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay, we can do this. Natalia will be prepared. We have witnesses. We have evidence.”
“We have a letter proving we committed fraud.”
“Which I’m burning. Tonight. Right now.” He stood. “And tomorrow, we go into that courtroom and we fight. For our daughter. For our family. For us.”
I stood too, taking his hands. “Together?”
“Always together.”
We spent the rest of the day preparing. Choosing clothes. Rehearsing answers. Going over every detail of our relationship like we were cramming for the most important exam of our lives.
Because we were.
And tomorrow, we’d find out if love was enough.
Or if everything we’d built was about to come crashing down.
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