The room was bigger than his old house.
That was the first thing he noticed.
Dark wooden walls. A massive bed. A glass window stretching from to celling, showing the glittering city lights below like stars trapped beneath the sky.
Everything looked expensive.
Too expensive.
And somehow, that made the room feel colder.
He stood quietly near the door after the staff left, unsure if he was supposed to touch anything.
This place didn't feel real.
Just yesterday, he had nowhere to sleep.
Now he was inside the mansion of one of the most powerful women in the city.
His gaze slowly moved around the room before landing on the black contract sitting neatly on the table beside the bed.
Six years.
The words still felt insane.
He walks toward the window, sliding one hand into his pocket as he stares down at the city below.
Somewhere out there---
The friend who ruined his life was probably sleeping peacefully.
Meanwhile, he was trapped in a mansion with a woman he couldn't understand.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
Before he could answer, the door opened slightly.
Racheal stepped inside.
still perfectly dressed.
Still calm.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Do CEOs normally walk into people's rooms this late?"
Racheal ignored the comment and placed a small folder on the table.
"Your new identification documents," she said. "And tomorrow's schedule."
"Schedule?"
"You'll need to learn how to act like my husband."
There it was again.
That cold professionalism.
Like this, marriage was just another business project.
He looked at her carefully.
"You really don't trust anyone, do you?"
For the time, Racheal paused.
Only for a second.
But he noticed.
"Trust is expensive," she said quietly.
Then she turned toward the door.
But before leaving, she stopped.
"You should sleep early."
He almost laughed.
"Why? Big day tomorrow?"
Racheal glanced at him over her shoulder.
"Yes."
A brief silence followed.
Then she added:
"Tomorrow, the public finds out you exist."