The mansion felt too large for just two people.
Alina stood in the center of the living room, staring at the high ceilings and polished marble floors. Everything was elegant. Expensive.
Cold.
"This will take some time to get used to," Adrian said gently behind her.
She turned.
He had removed his suit jacket, sleeves slightly rolled up. Less intimidating now. More… human.
"I don't need luxury," she replied quietly. "I just needed my father to live."
His expression shifted.
A flicker of something painful crossed his eyes.
"I know."
Silence stretched between them.
Then he walked toward the long glass table and placed a thin folder on it.
"The rules," he said calmly.
Of course.
A contract marriage needed rules.
Alina crossed her arms, bracing herself.
"Go on."
He opened the folder but didn't sit. He remained standing — giving her space.
"Rule number one," he began, voice steady. "You are free."
She blinked. "Free?"
"You can study. Work. Go out with friends. Continue your life. I won't control you."
That wasn't what she expected.
She had prepared herself for restrictions.
Curfews.
Appearances.
Possession.
Instead—
"You won't share a bedroom with me unless you want to," he added quietly.
Her heartbeat skipped.
"There's a guest suite prepared for you. Across the hall."
A strange mix of relief and disappointment flickered through her.
Why disappointment?
She didn't understand it.
"And in public?" she asked carefully.
"In public, we act married. Nothing excessive. Just believable."
He paused before continuing.
"Rule number two… no lies."
She looked at him sharply.
He met her gaze calmly.
"If something makes you uncomfortable, you tell me. If you're unhappy, you tell me."
"And if I want to leave before one year?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Something tightened in his jaw.
But his voice remained soft.
"Then I won't stop you."
That answer felt too easy.
She studied him.
"You're very confident for someone entering a loveless marriage."
A faint, almost sad smile touched his lips.
"It's not confidence."
"Then what is it?"
He looked at her for a long moment.
"Hope."
Her breath caught.
Hope?
"In what?" she whispered.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he closed the folder slowly.
"Rule number three," he said quietly. "No one finds out this is a contract."
She nodded. That made sense.
But her mind was still stuck on what he said before.
Hope.
Why would a man like Adrian Vale — powerful, wealthy, admired — hope for anything from her?
"And the last rule?" she asked.
His eyes softened.
"Take care of yourself."
Her brows furrowed slightly.
"That's not a rule."
"It is to me."
The air shifted.
This didn't feel like negotiation.
It felt like he was trying not to lose something fragile.
Her.
"Why me?" she finally asked.
The question that had been burning inside her since the hospital.
"You could marry anyone."
He inhaled slowly.
Then stepped closer — not invading her space, but near enough that she could see the faint exhaustion beneath his calm expression.
"You once sat in a coffee shop and gave your last twenty dollars to a stranger who couldn't pay."
Her eyes widened.
"That was years ago."
"I know."
Her heart started racing.
"You were there?"
"Yes."
The room felt smaller.
"You chose me because I gave someone money?"
"No."
His voice was softer now.
"I chose you because you did it when you thought no one was watching."
Her chest tightened painfully.
He had been watching.
For years?
Why?
But before she could ask, he stepped back again — distance returning between them.
"You should rest. It's been a long day."
He turned toward the staircase.
Halfway up, he stopped.
Without looking back, he said quietly,
"You don't owe me love, Alina."
His voice lowered slightly.
"But I promise you this marriage will never cost you your dignity."
And for the first time since signing that contract…
She wasn't afraid of him.
She was afraid of how safe he made her feel.