The morning sunlight slipped through the sheer curtains, painting soft golden patterns across the marble floor. Ivy stirred awake slowly, her lashes fluttering as she adjusted to the quiet unfamiliarity of Carter's home. For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then reality settled in like a weight on her chest.
This wasn't her home.
This wasn't her life.
And Carter… wasn't her husband in the way it should matter.
She sat up, wrapping the silk sheet around herself, her thoughts tangled. The events of the past few days had moved too quickly—too unnaturally. A contract marriage, a new house, a man who was both distant and dangerously attentive in moments she didn't expect.
She exhaled softly.
"I need to get a grip," she whispered to herself.
After getting ready, Ivy stepped out of the room, dressed in a simple pastel kurti, her hair loosely tied. The house was quiet, but not empty. She could feel it—his presence, even before she saw him.
Carter was seated in the dining area, already dressed in a crisp charcoal suit, reading something on his tablet. His posture was straight, composed, every movement controlled. He didn't look up immediately, but Ivy noticed the slight pause in his scrolling.
He knew she was there.
"Good morning," she said, her voice calm but cautious.
He finally looked up, his gaze sharp yet unreadable. "Morning."
A housemaid placed breakfast on the table—toast, fruits, and coffee. Ivy hesitated before taking a seat across from him. The distance between them felt… intentional.
"I didn't know your schedule," she said, trying to break the silence. "I could have joined earlier."
"You don't need to adjust to me," Carter replied flatly. "We have an agreement. Live your life the way you want."
His words were simple, but something about them stung.
Live your life.
As if she wasn't already trying to.
She picked at her food, her appetite fading. "I'll be going to the hospital today," she said after a moment. "I've already taken too many days off."
Carter nodded. "Driver will drop you."
"I can manage—"
"It's safer this way."
His tone wasn't harsh, but it left no room for argument.
Ivy pressed her lips together, choosing silence over confrontation.
The hospital felt like a different world—one where Ivy knew exactly who she was.
Dr. Ivy Anderson.
Not someone's contractual wife.
Not a piece in a political image.
Here, she had purpose.
As she walked through the familiar corridors, nurses greeted her warmly, and patients smiled with relief at her return. It grounded her, reminded her that she wasn't lost—not entirely.
"You're finally back!" her colleague, Riya, exclaimed, pulling her into a quick hug. "Where did you disappear? No calls, no messages—nothing!"
Ivy smiled faintly. "Just… family matters."
Riya raised an eyebrow. "Family matters that required you to vanish completely? Sounds suspicious."
Ivy laughed lightly, brushing it off. "It's nothing like that."
But deep inside, she knew—it was everything like that.
By evening, Ivy was exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally. The day had been long, filled with patients, responsibilities, and moments where she almost forgot her reality.
Almost.
The car ride back to Carter's mansion felt heavier than it should.
When she entered, the house was dimly lit. Quiet.
Too quiet.
She placed her bag down and walked toward the living room, only to pause when she heard voices.
Carter was on a call.
"…I don't care about the media narrative. Handle it before it escalates," he said, his tone sharp, authoritative.
Ivy stayed still, not wanting to interrupt.
"This marriage is already under scrutiny. I won't tolerate mistakes."
Her heart skipped.
Scrutiny?
So people were watching. Judging. Questioning.
Of course they were.
He ended the call abruptly, running a hand through his hair. That's when he noticed her.
"You're back," he said, his expression returning to its usual calm.
"Yes."
A brief silence followed.
Ivy hesitated, then spoke. "People are talking about us?"
Carter didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked past her, pouring himself a glass of water.
"They always talk," he said finally.
"That's not an answer."
He turned to face her, his gaze steady. "You knew what this was when you agreed."
"I know," she said, her voice tightening. "But I didn't expect to feel like… like I'm being watched all the time."
"You're not," he replied. "Not directly."
"But indirectly, yes," she whispered.
For the first time, Carter's expression shifted—just slightly.
A flicker of something.
Understanding? Guilt?
"I'll handle it," he said.
"That's not the point!" Ivy snapped, surprising even herself. "I don't want you to just 'handle' everything. I want to understand what I've walked into."
The room fell silent.
Carter studied her for a long moment, as if deciding something.
Then, he spoke.
"My position comes with attention. Power invites curiosity—and criticism. This marriage…" he paused, choosing his words carefully, "…wasn't just a personal decision."
Ivy's chest tightened. "So I'm part of your strategy."
"Yes."
The honesty hit harder than any lie could.
She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "At least you're honest."
"I don't believe in unnecessary deception."
"Good for you," she muttered, turning away.
"Ivy."
She stopped, but didn't turn back.
"If this becomes too much," he said, his voice quieter now, "you can walk away."
Her breath caught.
Walk away?
Just like that?
She turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "Can I really?"
For a moment, Carter didn't answer.
And in that moment, Ivy understood something terrifying.
The answer wasn't simple.
"…There will be consequences," he admitted.
Of course.
There always were.
She nodded slowly, the last bit of illusion shattering inside her.
"Then don't say things like that," she said softly. "It sounds like freedom, but it isn't."
Carter didn't respond.
Because he knew she was right.
That night, Ivy stood by the balcony, looking out at the city lights. The world outside moved freely—people laughing, living, choosing.
And here she was, trapped in something she had agreed to, yet never fully understood.
Behind her, Carter stood at a distance, watching her.
He didn't approach.
Didn't speak.
But his presence was there—silent, constant.
For the first time, he saw her not as part of an arrangement, but as someone caught in it.
And for the first time…
He wondered if he had made a mistake.
Ivy closed her eyes, letting the cool night air brush against her skin.
This wasn't just a contract anymore.
It was a life she had to survive.
And maybe…
Something she had to fight.