The annulment suit filed by Arthur Sterling's legal team a carefully crafted piece of psychological warfare. It didn't just target the marriage's legality; it attacked its foundation, claiming Eliza's instability coerced Julian Seo into the union, thereby invalidating any financial move they made together.
"Arthur's lawyers brilliant," Julian admitted, reviewing details with Eliza over a late lunch in his office, the atmosphere now one of intense continuous strategic planning. "They know the court won't care about our time-travel conspiracy. They only care about motive public perception. We proved we were stable by executing the Daejong acquisition. Now we have to prove we are in love."
"We need to counteract the 'unstable scion' narrative with a 'devoted power couple' narrative," Eliza summarized, tapping her pen against the latest legal filing. "A press release won't work. We need an event. Something public, intimate, so convincing that it makes Arthur's legal claims look like petty jealousy." They settled on the most visible high-stakes public event in the city calendar: the Annual CEO Charity Ball, scheduled for that weekend. It a gala where every major investor, reporter, competitor—including Arthur Sterling the remnants of his faction—would be present. It the perfect stage for their lie.
"We need a performance, Eliza," Julian stated, his eyes locking onto hers, their proximity feeling far more intimate than any discussion of finances. "A performance so convincing that Arthur's lawyers back off on Monday. No more cold calculation. Tonight, we passionately in love. Every gesture, every glance, every touch must sell the illusion."
Eliza felt a sudden unexpected heat rise in her cheeks. The contract explicitly forbade intimacy, but the stakes changed. "What exactly does a passionate power couple do, Julian? My corporate skill set doesn't cover public displays of affection." Julian rose, walking toward her. He stopped inches away, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders. "It starts with practice. A public display of affection about controlled physical intimacy. For the cameras, I need to look at you like you the only asset I've ever valued." His gaze intensified, shifting from the cold analytical focus she knew to something deeper, warmer—a pressure that made the air thin. He lowered his head, his lips hovering near her ear. "We'll dance. We'll laugh. We will need a kiss that ends all doubt." The suggestion of a public kiss—a deliberate faked act of passion—sent a shockwave through Eliza. This the first true boundary they were crossing. She prepared for corporate sabotage, not emotional exposure.
*Rehearsal and Reality*
The hours leading up to the gala a surreal mix of high-level strategy awkward intimacy. Julian insisted on "rehearsals." First, the dancing. In the soundproof ballroom of the penthouse, Julian gently pulled Eliza into his arms. His movements precise, confident, utterly professional, yet the feeling of his suit jacket beneath her fingertips, the warmth of his body near hers, intoxicatingly real. "Too stiff," Julian critiqued softly, guiding her back against his chest. "You look like you discussing a hostile takeover. A wife melts into her husband's embrace. You need to let go, Eliza. Trust me." Eliza forced herself to relax, inhaling the subtle clean scent of his cologne. Releasing control felt terrifyingly vulnerable. When she finally did, melting slightly into his body, the practiced movement felt shockingly natural, the line between performance reality blurred.
Then came the dress. Eliza chosen a shimmering midnight-blue gown that simultaneously reserved stunning, designed to project sophisticated power. But as she stood before the mirror, Julian entered the dressing room, holding a simple antique silver necklace. "Wear this," he instructed, walking toward her. "It belonged to my mother. She wore it when she married my father. Arthur's team will be looking for a sign that I view this marriage as disposable. This necklace tells them it familial, permanent, rooted in honor."He stood behind her, his fingers grazing the nape of her neck as he fastened the delicate clasp. The proximity overwhelming. His hands lingered, resting briefly on her bare shoulders. Eliza felt the rigid control in his muscles. It not a rehearsal; it a quiet, shared moment, profoundly more intimate than the dance.
*The Climax: A Kiss for the Cameras*
The Annual CEO Charity Ball a sea of flashing lights predatory smiles. Mr. and Mrs. Seo entered. The buzz surrounding them immediate, silencing the room just as they had done at the engagement dinner. Julian held Eliza's hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles—a small constant possessive gesture. It felt unnervingly reassuring. They navigated the room with practiced ease, exchanging smiles that looked warm genuine. Eliza even managed a few easy laughs with Julian, finding that the man who planned corporate ruin also possessed a dry quick wit that impossible to resist.
Then, they saw Arthur Sterling. The patriarch stood near the champagne tower, his eyes burning holes through them—a defeated calculating man watching his last asset crumble. He talking to a prominent judge—the same judge who would preside over the annulment case. "The time is now," Julian whispered, pulling Eliza onto the dance floor. The music a slow sweeping classical piece.
They moved together flawlessly. Eliza let herself trust him, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. Julian held her close, his eyes scanning the room, making sure every major camera, every rival, most importantly, Arthur Sterling, watching. As the music swelled to its climax, Julian stopped dancing. He gently tilted Eliza's chin up, forcing her gaze. His eyes no longer analytical; they intense, warm, filled with potent desire desperation—a true reflection of their danger, framed as absolute love. "We need to convince him, Eliza," Julian murmured, his voice barely audible, his eyes searching hers for permission. "Close your eyes."
Eliza didn't hesitate. The threat of losing the shield, of failing the mission, greater than the fear of the kiss. She closed her eyes just as Julian lowered his head. The kiss firm, deliberate, entirely convincing. It wasn't soft; it a statement. It a fusion of two highly controlled wills, a desperate pact sealed by the pressure of his lips against hers. For a moment, the cameras, the music, the entire ballroom vanished. Eliza felt the contract dissolve, replaced by the unexpected raw chemistry of their combined survival. When Julian finally pulled back, his eyes smoky serious. He didn't look at the cameras; he looked only at her, as if re-reading the truth in her expression. The line crossed. The lie felt dangerously real. The cameras exploded in a furious burst of light.
The Aftermath and the New Reality
They left the ball immediately, their mission accomplished. The headlines guaranteed: "Titan CEO Julian Seo and Wife Passionately Defy Annulment Rumors."
Back in the sedan, the silence heavy, charged with the lingering warmth of the kiss. Eliza still felt the residual pressure on her lips. "That," Julian said, his voice clipped, "should satisfy the legal team." "And the shareholders," Eliza added, her voice shaky. The contract broken in the most necessary public way. The boundaries gone. Julian reached across the seat placed his hand over hers, a new gesture of non-strategic comfort.
"The annulment suit will fail, Eliza. We safe from Arthur for now. But we need to address the other side of this fate swap," Julian stated, his face turning grim. "Vicki. She confined, but she not quiet. My security team just intercepted a desperate coded message she managed to send out from the clinic to an unknown recipient—a name I didn't recognize from our future timeline." The name Mark Sterling.
"Mark Sterling," Julian repeated, accessing his memory files. "In my past life, he a ruthless political lobbyist. He wasn't involved with the Sterling Group until much later, after the main corruption scandal broke. Vicki accelerating the timeline again. She reaching out to a dangerous future ally." Eliza felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. Vicki wasn't just sick; she adapting. "She creating new variables, Julian. Variables we didn't plan for. We need to know what Mark Sterling's weakness is how to cut him off before he reaches Vicki."
The corporate war over, but the dangerous dance with fate just beginning.