"Oh! Hua, you didn't tell me you had company!"
I froze. Yichen stood beside me, tall and perfectly composed, the very definition of "intimidatingly elegant."
Before I could explain, she clapped her hands together. "You must be her boyfriend! Come in, come in—"
"I'm afraid I can't," he said politely, his voice smooth like he'd practiced charm his entire life. "I have other plans today."
She tilted her head, looking a little disappointed. "Such a shame. You seem like a gentleman."
He smiled faintly — the kind of smile that was both polite and distant — and gave me a small nod before walking away.
And just like that, he was gone, swallowed the low hum of his expensive car.
I stood there for a second, heart pounding for reasons I didn't want to admit.
My mom grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. "He's handsome," she said, eyes gleaming. "And rich, I can tell. I'm glad my daughter still has good taste."
I rolled my eyes. "Mom—"
"Last time, your ex looked rich too," she continued, completely ignoring me. "What happened with him again? You two looked so good together. He had a nice smile, didn't he?"
"Mom, please," I muttered.
She frowned. "You never tell me anything. Did he cheat on you? Or was it you who—"
"I don't want to talk about it," I said sharply, heading straight for my room before she could finish her sentence.
I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, my chest tight.
I didn't want to think about him.
Not the engagement, not the stupid way my heart still ached, not any of it.
I crawled into bed, still in my work clothes, and stared at the ceiling.
Thinking about the way Yichen looked at me earlier — so cold, so certain — made it impossible to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of a car horn blaring outside.
At first, I ignored it. Probably some impatient neighbor.
But it didn't stop. It got louder. And more persistent.
I groaned, grabbed my phone, and peeked through the curtain.
My blood ran cold.
Yichen.
He was parked right in front of my apartment building, sitting behind the wheel of his shiny black car like he owned the entire street. Sunglasses on. Expression unreadable.
Of course. Because why wouldn't a crazy rich heir stalk me before breakfast?
I pulled the curtain back and muttered, "No way. I'm not going out there."
Then he honked again.
And again.
Until the old lady from downstairs came out and started glaring at my window.
Great. Perfect.
With a frustrated sigh, I grabbed my coat and stomped outside.
He rolled down the window, unbothered. "Good morning," he said smoothly, as if he hadn't just embarrassed me in front of the whole neighborhood.
"Are you insane?" I hissed. "You can't just—"
"Get in," he interrupted. "We need to talk."
I crossed my arms. "Talk about what?"
He just stared at me. Cold. Calm. Deadly serious.
"Get in, Hua."
Something about the way he said my name made my stomach twist. Against every rational thought in my body, I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.
Inside, it smelled like leather and expensive cologne. His world. Not mine.
He didn't waste time. He reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a document, and handed it to me.
My hands shook the moment I saw what it was.
A marriage contract.
"Sign it," he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I laughed in disbelief. "Right now? Like this?"
His jaw tightened. "Did you except something romantic?"
"Maybe," he said calmly. "I need to remind you that this is just business. A win-win situation."
My entire body froze.
I swallowed hard. And looked at the contract. Read it carefully.
He tilted his head. "Sign it."
I hated him. I hated that he was serious. I hated that my hands were shaking — not because I was scared of him, but because deep down, I always wanted a loving marriage, not this.
"I guess I have no choice." I whispered.
He leaned back, his gaze fixed on me. "I'm a businessman, Hua. I don't waste time on negotiations that don't benefit me. This is simple — we both win. You get protection, money, and a clean record. I get a company."
The way he said those words made something flutter — not quite fear, not quite excitement — somewhere deep in my chest.
"And if I refuse?"
He smiled faintly. "Then you'll be jobless, broke, and probably on the news."
I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to not care.
Instead, I reached for the pen lying on the dashboard.
My fingers trembled as I stared down at the paper. My name, his name. Black ink waiting to trap me.
"I hate people like you," I said quietly.
"I don't need you to like me," he replied, eyes never leaving mine. "I need you to sign."
I hesitated. Just for a second.
Then I did it.
The pen scratched across the paper, sealing something I couldn't undo.
I dropped it on his lap when I was done. "There. Happy now?"
He took the contract, folded it neatly, and slipped it into a black folder.
His expression didn't change, but something — a flicker I couldn't quite read — passed through his eyes.
"Relieved," he said.
Then, just like that, he started the car again.
"Where are we going?" I asked, clutching my seatbelt like it could save me.
"The registry office."
I blinked. "Wait. You're serious?!"
He didn't answer.
By the time I realized he wasn't joking, we were already pulling into the parking lot.
He stepped out first, circled the car, and opened my door — like a gentleman.
Except there was nothing gentlemanly about this situation.
"You can't just—" I started, but he cut me off.
"You signed, Hua. Follow through."
His tone left no room for argument.
So I did.
I followed him inside.
Everything happened too fast after that — the documents, the clerk's questions, the stamp of approval.
When the woman behind the desk asked, "Are you both certain?"
He looked at her without hesitation.
"Absolutely."
And just like that, it was done.
No flowers. No vows. No emotions.
Just ink, silence, and a stranger calling himself my husband.
When we stepped back outside, the sunlight hit my face, too bright, too real.
I could barely breathe.
Yichen slid his sunglasses on, the faintest shadow of a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Welcome to the family," he said dryly.
I turned to him, still dizzy. "You're insane."
"Possibly," he said, unlocking the car. "But I always get what I want."
___
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