The ceremony was flawless.
Aster walked down the aisle in a breathtaking gown that made every head turn and every woman in the crowd bite their lips in envy. Even the most hardened guests couldn't help but stare at her—elegant, radiant, perfect.
Carl stood at the altar in a jet-black tuxedo, looking like a man sculpted by the gods themselves. But the calm in his eyes masked the tension coiled tightly in his chest. Beside Aster was Merca, glowing with pride as she escorted her down the aisle. The same Merca who had arranged the match… and still didn't quite trust it.
To the world, it was a fairy tale.
To Aster and Carl?
It was the beginning of a contract.
---
Honeymoon
The five-day tour across the Pacific had been perfect—on paper. The sunsets, the island hopping, the private yacht for two. It was supposed to be romantic.
But every night ended the same way.
Awkward. Silent. Tense.
> "So... where will I sleep?"
Aster's voice was soft, uncertain.
> "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch," Carl replied without meeting her eyes.
She nodded, hiding the twinge in her chest.
But that night, Aster couldn't sleep. Carl was clearly uncomfortable, his long legs dangling off the edge of the small couch.
> "The bed's big enough. You can sleep here too... I mean—it's just for rest anyway," she muttered, not quite meeting his gaze.
Carl moved without hesitation—but the smirk on his lips didn't go unnoticed.
> "Thanks," he said, turning off the light. "Goodnight, Mrs. Landon"
Her heart skipped a beat.
Why did it sound so... real?
---
The Act Begins
They moved into their marital home—an extravagant estate gifted by Merca. It came with maids, cooks, and butlers. But Aster quickly realized... the staff weren't just staff.
They were eyes. Ears. Merca's spies.
So Carl played the role of the doting husband. And Aster? She learned to smile on command.
To keep the illusion alive, Carl even had Sean modify the master bedroom. Two single beds that merged into one by morning, like magic—no one would ever know.
After three long months, Merca finally left, satisfied. The pressure lifted... or so Aster thought.
Carl's work took over.
He was gone—days, weeks. Sometimes she wouldn't see him for a month. And even when he returned, he slept in the study.
Not beside her.
Not anymore.
> Why does it bother me?
She hated herself for missing him. Hated the way she waited for the sound of the front door. Hated how empty the bed felt without him beside her.
> This is a contract, Aster. You agreed to this. He doesn't owe you anything.
But then came the flowers.
Every day, a new bouquet. Chocolates. Sweet little cards signed "Carl." It was part of the act, of course.
But it still made her heart ache.
---
The Party
"Aster, come out with us tonight," Jean chirped as she barged into her office. "You've been drowning in work. A little fun won't kill you."
> "You know what? Yeah… maybe it's time I stopped thinking so much," Aster replied, shutting her laptop.
The bar was loud, crowded, alive.
It wasn't her scene. But tonight, she just wanted to forget.
Forget the silence at home. Forget the cold study door that never opened. Forget him.
Dane watched her from across the room, his gaze intense. He had loved her once—hell, maybe he still did. Carl didn't deserve her. And now that she was being neglected, Dane saw his chance.
> "Shouldn't you call Carl?" he asked, his voice low.
> "He won't answer. He's always… busy," Aster murmured, swirling her drink.
> "With work?" Dane scoffed. "Or with her?"
Aster's brows furrowed. "What?"
Dane took out his phone. One swipe, and there it was—Carl and Vanessa. Holding hands. Laughing. Shopping like a couple in love. Last week. In Paris.
Her stomach dropped.
> "They say he's trying to have an heir... with her," Dane said softly. "Everyone knows you can't give him one."
The words stabbed her like knives.
She downed her drink. Then another. And another.
The pain was too much. She needed to shut it out—him out.
Dane moved closer, brushing her hair back and snapping a selfie.
One kiss to her cheek. One photo.
He sent it directly to Vanessa.
---
The Storm Arrives
Aster could barely stand. Her head spun. The room blurred.
Jean offered to drive her home, but then—
The doors burst open.
Men in black suits stormed in. The music stopped. Everyone froze.
A tall, dark figure strode through like a god of wrath.
Carl.
Without a word, he scooped Aster into his arms and walked out like she was his possession. His wife.
Everyone watched in stunned silence.
In the car, Aster was already asleep—her head resting against his chest, unaware of the inferno in his eyes.
Sean sat in the passenger seat, sweat dripping down his neck.
No one dared speak.
Carl stared at his sleeping wife, jaw clenched tight.
Vanessa had sent the photo of Aster and Dane just hours ago.
One look was all it took.
He'd boarded the plane instantly.
Now, she was in his arms.
But something inside him was snapping.
> She's mine.
Even if she signed a contract… even if it's temporary…
No other man is allowed to touch her.