The rain poured heavily against the glass windows, blurring the city lights into a cold, distant glow. I stood there, frozen, my fingers trembling slightly as I stared at the contract placed in front of me.
"Sign it."
His voice was low, calm… and completely emotionless.
Ethan Blackwood.
The youngest billionaire in the country. Cold. Untouchable. Feared.
And now… the man I was about to marry.
I swallowed hard. "You're serious?"
He didn't even look at me. His sharp eyes remained on his phone, as if this entire situation meant nothing.
"Do I look like I joke?"
No. He didn't.
Everything about him screamed control—his posture, his tone, even the way he breathed. There was no warmth in him. No hesitation.
Just power.
I glanced back at the contract. Marriage. One year. No love. No interference. Absolute obedience.
It felt less like a marriage… and more like a prison.
"Why me?" I finally asked.
This time, he lifted his gaze. Those dark eyes locked onto mine, sending a chill down my spine.
"Because you're desperate."
The words hit harder than I expected.
I clenched my fists. "I have a name."
"And I have no interest in it."
Silence filled the room again, heavy and suffocating.
He wasn't wrong.
My father was drowning in debt. The hospital bills kept piling up. And I had run out of options.
This… was my last chance.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, watching me carefully now.
"You need money. I need a wife. Simple."
Simple.
As if he was talking about buying a new car.
I forced a weak laugh. "And after one year?"
"Divorce."
"Just like that?"
"Yes."
No emotion. No attachment. Nothing.
I should walk away.
I should refuse.
But I couldn't.
Not when everything was falling apart.
My hands slowly reached for the pen.
"Good," he said, his voice as cold as ever. "At least you're not completely useless."
I ignored the insult and signed my name.
Emma Carter.
The moment the pen left the paper, something inside me shifted.
There was no turning back now.
The wedding was done in less than an hour.
No family. No friends. No smiles.
Just signatures, cold glances, and a ring that felt heavier than it should.
I sat in the backseat of his black luxury car, staring at my reflection in the window.
Wife.
I was someone's wife now.
And not just anyone's.
Ethan Blackwood's.
"Stop frowning," he said from beside me.
"I'm not frowning."
"You are."
I turned to him. "Does it bother you?"
"No. But it's unpleasant to look at."
Of course it was.
Everything about me probably was… to him.
The car stopped in front of a massive mansion. No—this wasn't a house. It was a fortress.
"This is where you'll live," he said.
I stepped out slowly, my heart pounding.
The doors opened before we even reached them. Staff lined up on both sides, bowing their heads.
"Welcome back, sir."
Sir.
That word echoed everywhere.
Ethan walked in without acknowledging anyone. I followed, feeling completely out of place.
A woman in her forties approached me with a polite smile.
"You must be Madam."
Madam.
That sounded even more unreal.
"I'm Clara, the head housekeeper. I'll assist you with anything you need."
"Thank you," I said softly.
Ethan stopped walking and turned around.
"Show her the room."
"Yes, sir."
The room.
Not our room.
The bedroom was bigger than my entire apartment.
King-sized bed. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A closet filled with designer clothes.
"Mr. Blackwood had everything prepared," Clara said.
I blinked. "For me?"
"Yes."
That didn't make sense.
He didn't even care about my name.
Why would he prepare all this?
"Dinner will be ready at 8 PM," she added before leaving.
I stood alone in the room, overwhelmed.
This wasn't my life.
This couldn't be real.
At exactly 8 PM, I went downstairs.
Ethan was already sitting at the dining table, scrolling through his phone.
He didn't look up when I sat down.
We ate in silence.
The only sound was the clinking of cutlery against the plates.
"From tomorrow," he finally said, "you will follow the rules."
I looked up. "Rules?"
"Yes." He placed his fork down and met my eyes. "You will not interfere in my business. You will attend events when required. You will act like a proper wife in public."
"And in private?"
"You stay out of my way."
That stung more than it should.
"I'm not asking for your attention," I said quietly.
"Good."
His response was immediate.
Of course it was.
"Also," he continued, "do not fall in love with me."
I almost laughed.
"Trust me," I said, "that won't be a problem."
For a brief second… something changed in his expression.
But it disappeared just as quickly.
"Good," he repeated.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Everything felt unreal.
The contract. The wedding. The mansion.
Him.
Ethan Blackwood.
Cold. Distant. Untouchable.
And now… my husband.
I turned to my side, trying to sleep.
But one thought wouldn't leave my mind.
Why me?
Out of all the women in the world… why did he choose me?
And why did it feel like…
this wasn't just a simple contract?
In another part of the mansion, Ethan stood by the window, his expression unreadable.
"Sir," a voice spoke behind him. "Everything is ready."
"Good."
"Do you think she will find out?"
Ethan's eyes darkened.
"No."
He paused.
Then added quietly—
"She must never know."
A knock on the door broke the silence of the night.
I sat up slightly, my heart racing.
"Come in," I said, unsure of who it could be at this hour.
The door opened slowly, and Clara stepped inside.
"I apologize for disturbing you, Madam," she said politely. "Mr. Blackwood asked me to inform you that you will accompany him tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" I frowned. "Where?"
"A business event."
Of course.
I nodded. "Okay."
She hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something more.
"Is there anything else?" I asked.
Her expression softened slightly. "Just… be careful."
Before I could ask what she meant, she turned and left.
Be careful?
Of what?
Of him?
The next morning, I woke up earlier than expected.
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face… cold, unreadable.
I got up and walked toward the closet.
Rows of expensive dresses greeted me. Elegant. Perfect. Untouchable.
Just like him.
I ran my fingers over the fabric before choosing a simple black dress.
If I was going to play the role of his wife…
I would do it properly.
Downstairs, Ethan was already waiting.
Of course he was.
Perfectly dressed. Perfectly composed.
Perfectly cold.
His eyes scanned me from head to toe.
"You're late."
I glanced at the clock.
I wasn't.
But I didn't argue.
"Sorry."
"Next time, be on time."
There wouldn't be a next time, I wanted to say.
But I stayed silent.
The car ride was just as quiet as the night before.
Until—
"Stay close to me," he said.
I looked at him. "Why?"
"Because people will be watching."
Of course they would.
He was Ethan Blackwood.
"And if I don't?" I asked.
He turned his head slightly, his gaze sharp.
"Then you'll embarrass me."
I let out a small breath. "Would that be so terrible?"
"Yes."
One word.
Cold. Final.
I looked away.
The event was… overwhelming.
Lights. Cameras. People dressed in luxury.
Whispers followed us the moment we stepped inside.
"Is that her?"
"He actually got married?"
"She's… ordinary."
I heard every word.
But I kept my head high.
Because that's what he expected.
Ethan's hand suddenly wrapped around my waist.
I froze.
"Smile," he whispered.
I forced one.
From the outside, we probably looked perfect.
A powerful billionaire… and his beautiful wife.
If only they knew the truth.
"Mr. Blackwood," a man approached us with a wide smile. "Congratulations."
Ethan nodded. "Thank you."
"And this must be your wife."
I stepped forward slightly. "Emma Carter."
The man's eyes lingered on me longer than necessary.
"Pleasure to meet you."
Something about his smile made me uncomfortable.
Ethan's grip on my waist tightened.
"She's not here to entertain," he said coldly.
The man chuckled awkwardly. "Of course."
He left quickly after that.
I glanced at Ethan.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"Don't misunderstand," he replied. "I was protecting my image."
Of course.
Not me.
His image.
As the night went on, I started to understand something.
This world…
was dangerous.
Not in an obvious way.
But in the way people smiled while hiding knives behind their backs.
Every conversation felt like a game.
Every glance carried meaning.
And Ethan…
was at the center of it all.
"Stay here," he suddenly said.
"Where are you going?"
"Business."
Without another word, he walked away.
Leaving me alone.
I stood there, trying to look like I belonged.
But I didn't.
Not here.
Not in his world.
"Enjoying the party?"
I turned around.
It was the same man from earlier.
"I'm fine," I said politely.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
"You don't look fine."
"I said I'm fine."
His smile widened. "You know… a woman like you shouldn't be wasted on someone like Ethan."
My stomach tightened.
"I'm not interested in this conversation."
I tried to walk away—
But his hand grabbed my wrist.
"Let go," I said, my voice firm.
"Relax," he whispered. "I'm just being friendly."
"Let. Go."
Before he could respond—
A cold voice cut through the air.
"I believe she asked you to let go."
Ethan.
The man immediately released me.
"Mr. Blackwood, I—"
"Leave."
No emotion.
No warning.
Just one word.
The man didn't hesitate. He left.
Ethan turned to me, his expression dark.
"Did he touch you?"
"It's fine," I said quickly. "I handled it."
"That's not what I asked."
His voice was sharper now.
"Yes," I admitted.
For a moment… something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
Something I hadn't seen before.
"Stay with me," he said.
This time, it wasn't a command.
It almost sounded like… concern.
The rest of the night passed in a blur.
But one thing stayed in my mind.
The way he looked at me.
Not cold.
Not distant.
Something else.
Something I couldn't understand.
Back at the mansion, I walked toward the stairs.
"Emma."
I stopped.
It was the first time he said my name.
I turned slowly.
"Yes?"
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
"You did well tonight."
I blinked.
Was that… a compliment?
"Thank you," I said softly.
He nodded once.
Then walked away.
That night, I couldn't sleep again.
But this time…
it wasn't because of fear.
It was because of confusion.
Because the man I thought I understood…
was starting to feel like a mystery.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
We lived in the same house…
but in completely different worlds.
He was always busy.
Always distant.
But sometimes…
he would look at me.
In a way that didn't feel cold.
One evening, I found myself in the library.
A place I hadn't explored yet.
Books lined every wall.
It felt… peaceful.
Real.
Unlike everything else in this house.
"You read?"
His voice startled me.
I turned around.
Ethan stood at the door.
"I like books," I said.
He walked in slowly.
"That's rare."
"What is?"
"Someone who enjoys something without expecting something in return."
I frowned slightly. "Not everything is about deals."
"It is," he said. "In my world."
I met his gaze.
"Maybe that's your problem."
Silence.
For a moment, I thought I went too far.
But then—
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
It disappeared quickly.
But I saw it.
That's when I realized something.
Ethan Blackwood…
wasn't just cold.
He was broken.
And without realizing it…
I had just stepped into something far more dangerous than a contract marriage.
Because somewhere along the way…
this wasn't just about survival anymore.
And deep down…
I had a feeling—
The truth he was hiding…
was going to change everything.