Ella’s POV:
Sitting at a long, polished oak table, I couldn’t help but feel like I was signing my life away. The stark fluorescent lights above humd faintly, their harshness amplifying the tension in the room.
Across from , Arec sat composed, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, while two lawyers, one on either side of us, shuffled through docunts with the seriousness of surgeons preparing for an operation.
This was really happening. The contract marriage that had started as a bizarre idea was now about to be cented in legal terms. And even though I had agreed, the reality was finally sinking in. Every word, every clause, would dictate my life for the next year.
I glanced up at Arec. His face was unreadable, his usual calm and collected deanor firmly in place, but there was sothing different today.
Sothing beneath the surface that only I could see, a flicker of tension in his jaw, the way his gaze montarily flitted to , as if to check that I hadn’t bolted for the door. I wasn’t sure if it reassured or made more uneasy that Arec was feeling the weight of this just as much as I was.
"Shall we begin?" Arec’s lawyer, a tall man with steel-gray hair and a voice as smooth as silk, broke the silence. His na was Mr. Larkin, and he exuded the kind of confidence that ca from handling countless high-stakes agreents like this one.
He flipped through the thick stack of papers in front of him, pulling out the top sheet and sliding it toward . "We’ll start with the confidentiality agreent, as we discussed."
I leaned forward, reading the first few lines. ’Confidentiality.’ Of course. This arrangent wasn’t just a matter of personal stakes; it had ramifications far beyond my control. Arec’s family, his reputation, the business. The terms laid it all out: I was not to speak to the press or anyone outside of a tightly controlled circle about our marriage, or face legal consequences.
"Are you comfortable with this, Ella?" Arec’s voice broke into my thoughts. His tone was soft but businesslike. Still, there was an edge to it, like he was fully aware of the gravity of what we were both about to sign.
I hesitated. "I understand why it’s necessary," I said, scanning the docunt again. "But what happens if soone finds out? Sothing beyond our control?"
Mr. Larkin leaned back in his chair, fingers steepling as if he had rehearsed this question a thousand tis. "In the event that any information leaks, provided it’s not directly caused by you, the responsibility will fall on the other party. We’ve outlined penalties for breaches in confidentiality, but you’re protected unless you directly engage in the violation."
"Okay," I nodded. The words seed reasonable, but everything about this situation felt anything but. I was being drawn deeper into a world I didn’t belong in, a world of legal jargon and high stakes that felt far removed from my everyday life.
Arec’s lawyer continued, "This also includes the terms of the marriage itself. We understand that the marriage is, by definition, a contract. So, the public will need to believe it’s authentic. You’ll both have to present yourselves as a legitimate couple for the duration of the agreent."
My breath caught in my throat. ’Legitimate couple.’ The words were like stones in my stomach. I glanced at Arec, but his face remained impassive, as though the concept of pretending to be in love for a year was just another business move.
But for , the reality was far more unnerving. We would have to act like a couple, dinners, public appearances, maybe even sharing a house. It was all becoming very real, very fast.
"What exactly does that entail?" I asked, my voice a little quieter than I intended. "Presenting ourselves as a legitimate couple?"
My lawyer, a sharp, no-nonsense woman nad Clara, chid in. "It ans you’ll be living together for the duration of the marriage. There will be expectations of public appearances, social gatherings, and possibly even press involvent. We’ll outline the specifics to ensure that your privacy is protected as much as possible, but there are going to be eyes on you both."
Living together. Of course. That had been a sticking point for when Arec first proposed this whole arrangent. Now that I was hearing it in concrete terms, the pit in my stomach deepened.
Arec cleared his throat. "I know this part is difficult, Ella, but I want to reassure you that we’ll make this as manageable as possible. We’ll set clear boundaries for what happens behind closed doors."
I t his gaze, and for a brief second, I saw sothing genuine in his eyes, sothing that said he wasn’t trying to trap . But the professional mask quickly slid back into place.
"Fine," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "We’ll have to define those boundaries."
Clara nodded and made a note. "We’ll add a clause regarding separate living arrangents within the house. You’re under no obligation to share a bedroom unless you choose to do so for appearances during public events."
I was grateful that Clara had my back, but that last part, "unless you choose to do so" hung in the air like an unspoken question.
What would it an to live with Arec for a year? To see him every day, to pretend in public and maintain a certain distance in private? The reality of how close this would force us to be was suddenly suffocating.
The conversation shifted to financial arrangents. Arec would ensure that I had a substantial monthly allowance, as well as a separate account in my na that I had full control over. We agreed that anything related to household expenses or appearances would be covered by Arec.
"As for the end of the marriage," Clara said, pulling out another docunt, "we’ve outlined a clear exit strategy. After one year, the marriage will be legally dissolved, and both parties will retain their own assets. There will be no expectation of continuing a public relationship unless mutually agreed upon."
Arec nodded. "I want this to be as smooth as possible, Ella. When this is over, we’ll both walk away without any further obligations to each other. You’ll be compensated for your ti and involvent, and I’ll ensure that you’re taken care of."
It was all so... transactional. Cold, almost. But what did I expect? This wasn’t a fairy tale romance; this was a business deal, plain and simple. And yet, there was a tiny voice inside that wondered if things would stay that way. Would we be able to keep the lines clear? Or would living together, sharing our lives, even if just for appearances, blur those boundaries?
I pushed the thought aside and focused on the next part of the contract.
There was one clause that stood out more than the rest, the tifra. One year, no more, no less. But as I stared at the number on the page, I couldn’t help but feel a chill run down my spine. A year was a long ti to pretend.
"One year," I said aloud, my voice betraying the apprehension I was feeling. "And what happens if either of us wants to end this sooner?"
Mr. Larkin gave a tight smile. "There’s a clause for that as well. Either party can terminate the agreent with cause. However, in the event of a premature termination, there will be financial penalties for the party that initiates the termination, unless it’s for reasons related to safety or well-being."
"Of course." I glanced at Clara, who gave a small nod of reassurance.
The air in the room was thick with tension, despite the professional decorum. We were signing a docunt that would bind us together in ways that went far beyond words on a page. And while I knew it was just for a year, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was about to change everything.
"Is there anything else you’d like to add, Ella?" Clara asked, her pen hovering over the paper.
I paused, thinking for a long mont. Then I shook my head. "No, I think that covers it."
Arec’s eyes found mine again, and for a split second, I thought I saw relief in them. "Then we’re ready."
As we both signed the docunts, the finality of it hit . There was no turning back now. We were tied to each other for the next year, for better or worse.
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