Sofia Martinez had always imagined that the day she said I do would come with butterflies, a trembling smile, and maybe even a hint of nervous excitement. She had pictured music, roses, and a man who looked at her like she was the only person in the room.
Instead, she stood in the quiet, polished hallway of the Harrington family estate, staring at the closed mahogany doors in front of her—doors behind which her future was being negotiated like a business deal.
Her fingers tightened around the silk of her dress. The soft gray gown she wore felt suddenly too delicate for the weight settling on her shoulders. She inhaled slowly. You agreed to this. You said yes. You made this choice.
But had she?
Sofia wasn't sure anymore.
From the other side of the doors, she could hear the faint murmur of voices—her father's deep, insistent tone, followed by the cool, unreadable baritone of Derek Harrington.
Derek.
Even the thought of his name made a strange combination of irritation and curiosity rise in her chest. He was everything she wasn't—controlled, calculating, powerful. A man who knew exactly what he wanted and had the means to get it. She had seen him only twice before this arrangement was presented. Both times, he had spoken little, his expression perfectly unreadable, his eyes impossible to decipher.
Handsome? Too handsome, if she were honest. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that Derek Harrington didn't seem capable of warmth.
And this—all of this—was happening because her father had lost too much, trusted the wrong business partners, and now owed favors he couldn't repay. Sofia, somehow, had become one of those favors.
Or so Derek's parents had hinted.
The contract marriage was a solution. A way for both families to stabilize what was quickly crumbling. A way for Derek to secure the merger he needed and for her father to walk away with dignity.
It was practical.
It was clean.
And it felt like the slow tightening of a noose.
The doors opened.
Sofia straightened immediately as her father stepped out, his face drawn and pale but attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"They're ready for you," he said softly.
She nodded, though her heartbeat quickened. When she stepped into the room, she found Derek standing near the long glass windows, sunlight outlining his sharp features. His suit was immaculate—black, perfectly tailored, and too crisp to belong to a man who made mistakes.
His eyes lifted to meet hers.
No smile.
No warmth.
Just… observation.
"Miss Martinez," he greeted, voice smooth but distant.
"Derek," she managed.
The room fell silent again. Their parents watched from opposite sides, each carrying their own motives, their own expectations. Sofia wished she could disappear.
Derek's father cleared his throat. "We've reviewed the terms. All that remains is your mutual agreement."
Mutual.
The word almost made Sofia laugh.
Derek approached her, slow, deliberate steps echoing through the space. When he stopped in front of her, he extended a folder—thin, white, and heavier than it looked.
Inside was her future.
Her hand trembled as she reached for it.
"If you have any questions," Derek said, "you may ask."
There were a thousand questions.
Just one came out.
"Why me?"
His expression didn't change. "Because your father's company needs stability. And because my shareholders prefer a narrative that looks… traditional."
"Traditional," she repeated, the word bitter on her tongue. "Meaning married."
"Yes."
"And love?"
The question came out before she could stop it. Her cheeks warmed instantly.
Derek's jaw tightened—barely, but she saw it. "Love," he said softly, "is not a requirement for what we need."
Her chest tightened. She nodded slowly, even though the answer stung.
"So it's just a contract," she whispered.
"For now," Derek said. "We fulfill the terms, provide the appearance both families require, and maintain our independence where necessary."
Independence.
Another word meaning we won't interfere with each other's lives.
Sofia exhaled shakily, forcing her voice steady. "And after the contract ends?"
He looked at her carefully, as though weighing his words.
"We walk away."
Her fingers tightened around the folder. Walk away. As if this would all be temporary. As if she wouldn't lose pieces of herself along the way.
She swallowed. "I don't want to feel like I'm being traded."
Something flickered in Derek's eyes. Something she couldn't read. "This is not a trade," he said quietly. "It is a choice. You may still walk away."
Everyone in the room turned sharply toward him—even his parents. Sofia blinked. That wasn't what she had expected.
"If you choose not to," Derek continued, "then I want you to agree knowing that you weren't forced."
Her breath stilled in her chest. Was he… giving her an out?
Her father stepped forward. "Sofia—this is the best option. You know we cannot—"
"It's her decision," Derek interrupted, his tone firm.
Another surprise.
The room grew impossibly quiet. Derek stepped closer, close enough that Sofia could smell his cologne—clean, subtle, expensive. His voice lowered, private.
"If you sign this," he said, "I will uphold every term. I will not humiliate you. I will protect you from the media. I will give you the freedom you need. But I cannot offer a love I do not yet feel."
Her chest tightened at the honesty. It was both painful and strangely comforting.
"And I will not ask you for something you cannot give me," he added.
Her eyes rose to meet his. This close, she could see the hidden tension in his jaw, the faint shadow beneath his gaze. This wasn't easy for him either.
"Why are you really doing this?" she asked softly.
A long silence stretched between them. Derek's voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet.
"Because sometimes," he said, "doing what is necessary matters more than doing what is easy."
Sofia looked down at the contract.
Then back at him.
Something inside her shifted—not acceptance, not trust, but something like reluctant understanding.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll do it."
But she didn't see the way Derek's shoulders loosened slightly.
She didn't notice the breath he seemed to release.
She didn't realize that her agreement relieved him far more than it should have.
They signed the contract an hour later.
Sofia tried to ignore how final her signature looked on the page. She tried not to think about how quickly her life had changed. She tried not to look at Derek too much—but curiosity kept pulling her gaze back to him.
He signed with unwavering confidence, every stroke of his pen smooth and controlled. When he finished, he closed the folder, sealing their fates with a quiet click.
"It's done," he said.
Her heart fluttered and sank at the same time.
Their parents exchanged relieved glances, voices rising in muted conversation, but Sofia barely heard them. She and Derek stood facing each other, alone despite the room full of people.
"What happens now?" she asked.
Derek studied her for a moment. "Now," he said, "we prepare for the engagement announcement."
Her eyes widened. "Engagement?"
"It will make the marriage appear natural." His tone softened just slightly. "It will make this easier."
Easier.
Nothing about this felt easy.
He seemed to sense her rising panic. "I'll handle the media," he added. "You won't have to face anything alone."
Her lips parted. "Why are you being… considerate?"
A faint shadow of a smile touched his lips—so quick she almost thought she imagined it.
"Because," Derek said, "if we're going to make this believable, we need to at least treat each other with respect."
She nodded slowly. It was more than she expected. More than she dared hope for.
He extended his hand—not for her signature this time, but for her.
"Sofia," he said, "we may not be marrying for love, but that doesn't mean we can't build something meaningful."
Her breath caught. Tentatively, she placed her hand in his. His palm was warm, steady, grounding.
"Then let's start there," she said softly.
His fingers closed gently around hers.
And just like that—quietly, unexpectedly—the first fragile thread of something unspoken formed between them.
As Sofia left the mansion later that day, she glanced back once. Derek stood by the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching her with an unreadable expression.
She didn't know it yet, but Derek Harrington had his own reasons for agreeing to this marriage. Reasons he hadn't shared. Reasons he wasn't ready to confront.
And Sofia, with her gentle eyes and hesitant courage, was about to complicate everything he thought he knew about love, loyalty, and control.
Their marriage began with a contract.
It would not end that way.
Not once feelings decided to get involved.