Amara woke before the sun rose.
The sheets were warm beside her, but Ethen was gone.
She sat up slowly, her heart still tangled in the ghost of last night. The kiss. The way he looked at her like she was the only truth in a world of lies. The way he said, "I'm yours."
She wrapped the blanket around herself and padded to the window.
The estate grounds were soaked in mist. Still. Quiet.
She didn't know what she expected—that he'd still be lying next to her, or that the glow of last night would stretch into morning. But instead… she felt alone.
Her phone buzzed.
Message from Ethen:
"Had an early call. Didn't want to wake you. We'll talk later."
No emoji. No softness.
We'll talk later.
Three words that punched her in the chest.
Downstairs, the mood had shifted.
The staff greeted her as usual, but there was a strange tension in the air—like someone had whispered something and quickly changed the subject. The house manager barely made eye contact.
She sat at the breakfast table, but her appetite was gone. The sunlight streaming in through the tall glass walls felt too bright, too sharp.
Last night, she kissed him.
Let him in.
And now?
Now he was hiding behind a text.
By noon, Ethen still hadn't returned.
Amara wandered the halls, unsure what she was looking for—maybe him, maybe an explanation.
In the music room, the piano keys were untouched. In the library, the scent of aged paper usually calmed her. Today, it felt hollow.
She found herself staring at the family portrait on the far wall—Ethen as a child, maybe 8 or 9, standing between a man with a hard face and a woman with eyes like steel.
He looked scared.
Trapped.
Is this who I'm building a future with? she wondered.
Suddenly, voices floated in from the hallway.
She stepped closer to the door, hidden behind the edge of the bookcase.
"…She's getting too close," a woman said sharply.
Ethen's voice: "That's not your decision."
"You said this was temporary."
There was a pause. Amara pressed her hand to her chest.
"I said that at the beginning," Ethen replied. "Things changed."
"Changed? Or did you just lose focus?"
"I didn't ask for your approval, Meredith."
The woman scoffed. "You forget who controls the board."
And then footsteps—quick, angry.
Amara backed away as quietly as she could and slipped out through the other door.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
The board? Temporary?
What exactly was she involved in?
That evening, Ethen finally returned.
Amara was in the garden, pretending to read a book she hadn't turned a page of in twenty minutes.
He walked toward her slowly, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, but there was tension in his shoulders she'd never seen before.
"You left early," she said without looking up.
"I had meetings," he replied.
She finally looked at him. "And you couldn't say that to my face?"
He sighed and sat across from her. "Amara, last night was—"
"Real?" she cut in.
He blinked. "Yes."
"Then why do you look like you regret it?"
"I don't," he said quickly. "But this… this isn't simple."
"No. It's not." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Especially when you have secret board meetings about your fake wife behind closed doors."
His eyes sharpened. "You heard that?"
"I wasn't trying to," she said. "But I did. So now I need to know—was any of this ever about me? Or was I just a well-written chapter in your master plan?"
The silence between them was deafening.
Then—
"It started that way," he said honestly. "But it's not anymore."
She stood. "You're going to have to do better than that, Ethen."
And she walked away before her tears could betray her.
Amara didn't sleep that night.
She tried.
But her mind was replaying every moment since she met Ethen Blake.
The unexpected proposal.
The mansion.
The gentle piano moments.
The kiss.
The lie.
It started that way.
His words haunted her. Like a thread that kept unraveling.
Was she ever more than a strategy?
By morning, she needed answers.
She walked into Ethen's private office without knocking.
He looked up from his laptop, surprised. "Amara."
"I'm not here for pleasantries," she said. "Just the truth."
He stood. "About what?"
"Meredith. The board. Whatever this thing is that I've been dragged into. Tell me everything, or I'm leaving."
A flicker of panic crossed his face. "You don't want to leave."
"Don't tell me what I want. Just talk to me."
Ethen sighed and sat down slowly. "Okay. You deserve that."
He gestured to the chair across from him. She remained standing.
"This marriage," he said, voice low, "was originally proposed by Meredith—my father's former advisor. My company was facing pressure. Rumors. Bad press. A political merger. They wanted me to appear stable."
"Stable," she echoed. "As in married."
"Yes. She gave me a list of acceptable women. Heiresses. CEOs' daughters. I refused."
"And then you saw me."
He nodded. "You were… different. Grounded. Honest. And beautiful."
"Don't charm me right now."
"I'm not. I'm just telling the truth."
Amara crossed her arms. "So you chose me because I wouldn't play their game?"
"At first, yes. But I didn't expect to actually care about you."
He paused.
"I didn't expect you to become my calm, Amara. Or my compass."
Her heart beat faster. But she couldn't let it soften her—not yet.
"And the contract?" she asked. "How long before I was supposed to disappear quietly?"
He hesitated.
"Six months."
She blinked. "So this whole time…"
"It was supposed to be short. Safe. Clean."
"And now?"
He stepped closer. "Now I want to tear up that contract and start over. But only if you still want me."
Her throat tightened. "I don't know what I want right now."
And she walked out again—this time, not with anger… but heartbreak.
Later that day, she sat in the garden, the sun warm against her face, when one of the estate staff approached quietly.
"Miss Amara?"
"Yes?"
"You received this in the mail." The woman handed her a pale envelope with her name handwritten on the front.
No return address.
She opened it slowly.
Inside was a short note, written in flowing script.
"If you really want to know why he chose you… ask about the hospital in Oslow. – A Friend."
Amara's breath hitched.
Oslow.
She hadn't heard that name since she was sixteen.
Since the night she collapsed from exhaustion after working double shifts to pay rent.
She had never told anyone about that place.
Not even Ethen.
That night, she found him alone in the library again.
Holding the letter tightly, she stepped into the soft lamp-lit room.
"Ethen," she said quietly. "What happened in Oslow?"
He froze.
Turned slowly.
Her question didn't shock him.
His silence did.
She stepped closer. "Why were you watching me before the proposal? Who told you about me?"
He sat down, running his hands through his hair.
"There was… an article," he said slowly. "A woman. Bright. Resilient. Medical student working double shifts. Collapsed in the ER. But she still made the doctors laugh while she was hooked up to fluids."
Amara swallowed.
"I remembered the photo," he added. "You had this… fire. Even in a hospital gown."
"You had me investigated," she whispered.
"I wanted to help you."
"You wanted to use me."
"No," he said, standing now. "I wanted to be near you. That's what scared me."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I wasn't your project, Ethen."
"No. You were the only thing I didn't plan for."
Amara didn't know how long she stood there, staring at the man who changed everything and yet felt like a stranger.
The library was silent except for the ticking of an antique clock in the corner. Time felt heavy. Slower. Like the universe was giving her a moment to make a choice.
"I need air," she whispered.
Ethen reached for her, but she took a step back.
"Please," she added, her voice trembling. "Don't follow me."
She turned and left him standing in the dim light, jaw clenched, hands trembling.
She packed a small overnight bag.
Not because she was running away—but because she didn't want to make another emotional decision inside his world. His rules. His silence.
As she zipped the bag, she heard soft footsteps outside her door.
"Amara," Ethen said through the wood. "Please open the door."
She hesitated.
Then, slowly, she did.
He looked tired. Like he hadn't slept. His tie was gone, and the top buttons of his shirt undone.
"Just… listen," he said. "And if you still want to go, I won't stop you."
She said nothing.
"I didn't know what love was supposed to look like," he said. "My parents were a cold war in slow motion. Power was the only language spoken in that house. And then you showed up, and suddenly I felt everything I'd buried."
He took a breath.
"I didn't approach you cleanly. I know that. But it stopped being about strategy the moment I saw you sleeping in that stupid oversized sweater on my couch—drooling into a textbook."
Her eyes narrowed. "Wow. Romantic."
He smiled faintly. "I'm serious. You were the first thing in my life that didn't come with terms and conditions. I was terrified."
Amara bit her lip, arms folded tightly.
He stepped closer.
"I'll earn your trust back. Every day if I have to. But if you leave now… just know I'll be waiting. For you. No contracts. No games. Just me."
She didn't reply.
Just turned, picked up her bag, and walked past him.
His breath caught as she passed.
But just as she reached the stairs, she paused.
"I'm not leaving forever," she said without turning back. "But I'm not staying just because you finally decided to be human."
And then she left.
She checked into a small hotel downtown under a fake name.
For two days, she did nothing but write in her journal, scroll aimlessly, and try not to imagine him alone in that massive house.
On the third night, she received a knock at her door.
She opened it to find… Meredith.
Amara's heart dropped. "How did you—?"
"Relax. I'm not here to threaten you," the older woman said coolly. "I came to say thank you."
"Excuse me?"
You broke him," she said. "In the best way."
Amara blinked. "Is this… a trap?"
Meredith chuckled. "I've known Ethen since he was a boy. I've never seen him unhinged, not like this. You made him feel something. That's rare in this world. Cherish it."
And then she handed Amara a sealed white envelope.
"What's this?"
"A letter. From him. He asked me to deliver it if you wouldn't take his calls."
She left before Amara could respond.
Amara stared at the envelope for hours before finally opening it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
His handwriting was surprisingly neat.
"You said you didn't want a man who hides behind money or plans. So here I am: stripped down. I miss you. I ache in places I didn't know existed. And if I never see you again, just know you were the chapter I'll never stop rereading."
She cried.
Not because she was weak.
But because she finally saw him. Not as the billionaire. Not as the strategy.
But as a man.
Just a man.
Who loved her.
Amara stood at the window of her hotel room, staring at the blurred city lights through eyes swollen from tears.
She read the letter again.
Twice.
Each time, her fingers trembled a little less.
Ethen wasn't perfect. He was far from it. But that letter wasn't written by a man trying to manipulate her.
It was written by someone… healing.
And maybe, just maybe, she was healing too.
Two days later, she returned to the estate.
Not because everything was fixed.
But because some chapters don't end with a slammed door.
They end with a pause, a breath… and a knock.
She stood in the marble foyer, staring at the space that once intimidated her.
Ethen came downstairs slowly. No suit. No bravado. Just a plain grey hoodie, hair messy, and eyes that looked like they hadn't slept.
He stopped at the bottom step, unsure if he should come closer.
Amara took one soft step forward.
"I read the letter."
His voice was barely a whisper. "I meant every word."
She nodded, slowly. "That's why I came back."
His chest rose with hope.
"But," she added, "this doesn't erase anything. If we're going to try… it's from scratch. As equals."
He stepped closer. "No contracts."
"No lies."
"No strategy," she said firmly.
He smiled. "Just us."
She reached out first this time.
And when he took her hand in his, it wasn't fireworks or slow music.
It was quiet.
And safe.
That evening, they didn't kiss.
They didn't touch.
They just sat together on the balcony, wrapped in a shared blanket, watching the stars rise over a city full of noise.
And for the first time since it all began…
Neither of them had to speak to be heard.