The morning sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow across Ivy Anderson's room. She lay awake long before the alarm rang, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts tangled in ways she couldn't explain.
Last night kept replaying in her mind.
Carter's sudden closeness. His voice—low, steady, almost protective. And the way her heart betrayed her… racing like she wasn't in control anymore.
"This is just a contract," she whispered to herself, forcing her eyes shut.
But even she didn't sound convinced.
Downstairs, the dining table was already set. Carter sat at the head, reading something on his tablet, his expression sharp and unreadable as always.
Ivy walked in, trying to act normal.
"Good morning," she said softly.
Carter glanced up briefly. "Morning."
That was it.
No mention of last night.
No change in tone.
No lingering looks.
For a moment, Ivy felt foolish for even thinking something had shifted between them.
She sat down quietly, picking at her breakfast.
"Hospital today?" Carter asked, not looking up.
"Yes."
"Driver will drop you."
"I can manage—"
"It's not a request."
His voice wasn't harsh, just firm. Final.
Ivy frowned slightly but didn't argue. She had started to understand Carter Wood—he wasn't someone who repeated himself.
Still, something about his behavior felt… controlled. As if he was deliberately keeping a distance.
And that hurt more than she expected.
At the hospital, Ivy tried to focus on her work, but her mind wandered constantly.
"Doctor, are you alright?" a nurse asked.
"Yes, I'm fine," Ivy replied quickly, adjusting her gloves.
But she wasn't.
Every small thing reminded her of Carter—his presence, his silence, his eyes.
Why does it even matter?
She shook her head and continued her rounds.
Meanwhile, Carter sat in his office, but the files in front of him remained untouched.
His thoughts were far from business.
They were with her.
Ivy Anderson.
Her nervous expressions. The way she tried to act strong. The softness in her voice. The warmth she unknowingly brought into his otherwise cold, structured life.
He clenched his jaw.
"This shouldn't happen."
For Carter, emotions were weaknesses. Attachments were risks. And this marriage—this contract—was supposed to be nothing more than a strategic arrangement.
But Ivy… she was complicating everything.
That evening, Ivy returned home, exhausted.
As she entered, she heard voices from the living room.
"…this alliance is important," a man was saying.
She paused.
Carter's voice followed, calm but cold. "I know what I'm doing."
Ivy hesitated before stepping in.
The moment she entered, the conversation stopped.
A middle-aged man in a formal suit turned to look at her, his eyes sharp with curiosity.
"And this must be Mrs. Wood," he said with a faint smile.
Ivy nodded politely. "Hello."
Carter stood up. "Ivy, this is Mr. Khanna. A business associate."
Something about the man's gaze made Ivy uncomfortable, but she maintained her composure.
"Nice to meet you," she said.
"Indeed," Mr. Khanna replied, his tone slightly suggestive. "Carter, you didn't tell me your wife was this… graceful."
Carter's expression darkened almost instantly.
"She's not part of business discussions," he said curtly. "Ivy, you can go upstairs."
Ivy blinked, slightly taken aback.
"Okay…"
As she turned to leave, she could feel the tension in the room.
Upstairs, Ivy sat on the edge of her bed, her chest tight.
Why did that bother her?
Carter had every right to keep her out of his work. This was just a contract, after all.
So why did it feel like she had just been… dismissed?
Her eyes fell on her hands.
"You're overthinking," she muttered.
But deep inside, something had already started changing.
An hour later, there was a knock on her door.
"Come in."
Carter entered, his presence filling the room instantly.
"About earlier—" he began.
"It's fine," Ivy interrupted quickly. "I understand."
Carter frowned slightly. "Do you?"
Ivy forced a small smile. "Yes. I'm not part of your world."
Her words were simple, but they carried weight.
For a moment, Carter didn't respond.
Then he stepped closer.
"You're my wife."
The statement hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.
"On paper," Ivy corrected softly.
Carter's eyes locked onto hers.
"And does that make it any less real?"
Ivy's breath caught.
The way he looked at her—it wasn't cold. It wasn't distant.
It was something else.
Something dangerous.
"Carter…" she whispered, unsure of what she was even trying to say.
He took another step closer.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
The question surprised her.
"Yes," she replied without thinking.
And that was the truth.
Despite everything, she trusted him.
Carter nodded slightly, as if that answer mattered more than anything.
"Then don't question my decisions," he said, his voice softer now. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Ivy stared at him.
Protection.
Possessiveness.
Something deeper.
She couldn't tell the difference anymore.
After Carter left, Ivy sat there, her heart pounding.
This wasn't how a contract marriage was supposed to feel.
There were no rules for this.
No guidelines.
Just emotions neither of them were ready to admit.
Later that night, Carter stood by his window, looking out at the city lights.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Mr. Khanna:
"Be careful, Carter. Emotions can ruin even the strongest deals."
Carter's grip on the phone tightened.
He glanced toward Ivy's room.
For the first time in years, something felt uncertain.
And he didn't like it.