Anne Dwasond sat by the window of her apartment, watching the sunlight stretch across the buildings like lazy fingers. The past week felt surreal—like she had stepped into someone else's story and forgotten how to step out. But today, the fog in her chest had lifted slightly.
She wasn't going back to work.
Not because she couldn't, but because she had made a decision.
A decision that would alter the course of her life.
The call to Brian had been short and precise.
"I've made up my mind," she'd said, her voice steady. "Let's finalize the contract."
He had arrived twenty minutes later, not alone.
Rayden Lancaster stepped into the apartment as though it belonged to him—which, legally speaking, it's probably his. His black coat dusted against his knees, eyes sharp, lips unreadable. Anne had to force herself not to fidget under his gaze.
Brian opened the folder and laid the contract between them on the dining table like it was a peace treaty between two wary nations.
"This is the final version," he said. "All clauses included, including the three you both negotiated."
Rayden scanned the pages silently while Anne did the same. Everything was there. No public displays of affection, a two-year clause with an optional exit, and payment only after the wedding became legal.
But as Anne picked up the pen to sign, something stopped her.
"Wait," she said, placing the pen down. "If we're really going to do this… we need to align our stories."
Rayden's eyes met hers, unreadable. "Stories?"
Anne nodded. "People are going to ask. How we met. How long we've been together. Why you're suddenly marrying someone like me."
Rayden leaned back, fingers laced together. "Then let's build a story they'll believe."
The three of them sat for nearly an hour, piecing together a romance that never happened.
"We met on the sidewalk," Anne began. "You offered me your umbrella because I looked like I was having a bad day."
Rayden scoffed. "Do I look like someone who carries umbrellas for strangers?"
Brian snorted quietly behind his clipboard.
Anne ignored him. "It has to be something simple. If we go too elaborate, people will poke holes in it."
Rayden rubbed his temple. "Fine. Sidewalk. Umbrella. Then what?"
Anne smirked a little. "You found me charming. Invited me for coffee. Couldn't stop thinking about me. Eventually asked me out."
He looked physically pained. "That makes me sound like a hopeless romantic."
"Exactly," she replied. "No one would believe you're doing this unless they think you're out of your damn mind in love."
Brian coughed into his hand, clearly enjoying himself.
"What about the timeline?" Rayden sighed.
"We say we met six months ago," Anne said. "Kept it low profile. You proposed last week, and let's say I had to go to the vacation after you proposed, to clear my mind, because you know... last week I was hospitalized... and they don't need to now that." Silent.
But I said yes after… emotional deliberation. I said it today. Or yesterday." Anne trying to smile.
Rayden leaned back, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Why did you say yes?"
Anne looked at him dead-on. "Because in the story, I've always loved you."
The words made something in the room tighten.
Rayden looked away first.
Panicked, Anne added, "But even so, I need time to think about our... unrealistic relationship. I mean, with the social status, and... the age difference... that why I take a vacation"
"O..Okay. You said yes to my proposal yesterday." Rayden stuttered.
Brian cleared his throat. "And who else knows?"
They agreed to keep it contained. From Anne's side, only Hana. From Rayden's, only Brian.
Rayden slid the contract forward. "Are you sure?"
Anne nodded, gripping the pen. "Let's get this over with."
One signature. Then another. And it was done.
They were engaged—on paper, at least.
—
Anne stood at the doorway of her apartment, watching as movers packed her sparse belongings. Most of her things were second-hand, lived-in, and modest, a stark contrast to the sleek black car waiting outside.
Rayden didn't offer to help. He simply waited by the door, silent, distant.
As they pulled into the driveway of his penthouse residence, Anne's breath caught.
It wasn't just big—it was monstrous. Walls of glass, polished marble floors, a panoramic view of the city that looked like it had been stolen from a dream.
"This isn't a house," Anne muttered. "It's a museum."
Rayden barely glanced at her. "You'll get used to it."
A maid greeted them, and Rayden wasted no time giving instructions.
"Anne will stay in the guest suite on the second floor," he told her. "Ensure she has everything she needs."
Anne followed the maid silently, noting how sterile the place felt. Everything was cold, perfect, untouched.
Just like him.
Her room, however, was surprisingly warm. Shades of cream and gold, soft lighting, and a private balcony. It was nicer than anywhere she had ever lived.
Still, it wasn't home.
Later that evening, Anne stood in the living room, watching the city lights twinkle.
"Dinner will be served at seven," Rayden said as he entered, hands in his pockets.
Anne nodded. "You live here alone?"
He shrugged. "I don't like company."
"You're about to have a lot of it," she said wryly. "News like ours doesn't stay quiet."
He nodded slowly, as if already anticipating the chaos.
"Do the maid know? About us?" Anne asked.
Rayden shook his head. "That room you're using—they think it's just for storing some of your things. I also told them you wanted your own dressing room. So, no one will get suspicious," Rayden explained casually.
Anne frowned. "What if they come upstairs and start getting suspicious?"
"Ah, right. About that," Rayden replied, as if it was just a minor detail. "The maids are technically still under my mother's household staff. Which means... sometimes they report back to her, whatever happened... here. They usually arrive at the house around seven in the morning. So make sure you're already in my room before then, and don't come out until they're busy cleaning the second floor, so they'll see you."
Anne blinked. "Okay... this is new."
"Also, there's a press conference next week," he added. "To announce our engagement."
Anne's breath hitched. "Already?"
"The sooner we go public, the less room for gossip." His voice was flat. Efficient. Like he was talking about a merger, not a marriage.
She turned away, unsure what else to say.
"By the way," he said suddenly. "There's something else in the contract."
She raised a brow. "What?"
He handed her a second envelope—one she hadn't seen before.
Anne opened it.
Inside was a nondisclosure agreement.
"If you break the terms and tell anyone outside of Brian or Hana… it voids the entire deal."
Anne felt a chill dance across her spine.
Rayden's gaze locked with hers. "This is a performance, Anne. One mistake and everything collapses. Are you ready for that?"
She swallowed hard.
"I am."
But before either of them could say anything more, Rayden's phone rang.
He answered, voice sharp. "Yes?"
His expression shifted.
Then hardened.
He hung up, jaw tight.
"What happened?" Anne asked.
Rayden turned to her, and for the first time that night, there was emotion in his eyes.
"That was Brian," he said. "My father… he wants to meet you. Tomorrow."
Anne's heart dropped.
Tomorrow?
She wasn't ready. Not for this.
Not for them.
But it was too late.
The curtain had already risen on the greatest performance of her life.