The interview was scheduled for Thursday.
A journalist from a major magazine. Someone who'd promised to tell our story fairly, without sensationalism. Declan was skeptical. I was nervous.
"We don't have to do this," he said that morning. "We can cancel."
"No." I took his hand. "If we don't tell our story, someone else will. I'd rather it come from us."
He nodded. "Okay. Together."
"Together."
The journalist arrived at 10 AM.
Her name was Nora Chen ,no relation, but the shared last name made me smile. She was warm, professional, clearly good at her job.
"Thank you for agreeing to this," she said. "Your story has captured a lot of attention."
"Mostly the contract part," I said.
"Mostly." She smiled. "But also the love part. People want to believe in unexpected love."
We sat in the living room, the city sprawling beyond the windows. Nora set up her recorder, asked permission, began.
"Let's start at the beginning. How did you meet?"
Declan looked at me. "You want to take this one?"
"The first time I saw him, I threw wine in his face."
Nora's eyebrows rose. "Literally?"
"In my imagination." I smiled. "The first real meeting was at a gala. He was cold, condescending, and utterly infuriating. I wanted to hate him."
"And did you?"
"I tried." I glanced at Declan. "It didn't work."
Nora asked about the contract next.
Declan answered honestly. The grandfather's will. The deadline. The search for someone who wouldn't want anything from him.
"And you chose Olivia because—"
"Because she looked at me like I was dirt." His mouth curved. "Because she was the first person in years who didn't want something. Who didn't perform. Who just... was."
I added, "And because he knew everything about me. My father's death. My mother's debts. Every detail. It was terrifying and impressive in equal measure."
"Did you ever think it would become real?"
"No." We said it together. Looked at each other. Smiled.
"Somewhere along the way," Declan said, "the performance stopped feeling like one. She became real to me. More real than anything."
"When did you know?"
He was quiet for a moment. "The nightmare."
Nora leaned forward. "Can you share?"
He nodded slowly. "I have nightmares. About my mother. About being abandoned. One night, early in the arrangement, I woke up screaming. She came to me. Held my hand. Didn't ask questions, didn't demand explanations. Just stayed."
I squeezed his hand.
"That's when I knew," he continued. "That she wasn't just fulfilling a contract. That she saw me. The real me. And she stayed anyway."
Nora turned to me. "And you? When did you know?"
I thought about it. "Probably the dumplings."
"Dumplings?"
"My mother's recipe. He learned to make them. Just to impress her. Just to be part of my family." I looked at him. "That's when I knew he was in this for real. That I was too."
The interview continued for another hour.
Nora asked about the board meeting, about Julian, about the secret of Blackwood Capital. We answered honestly, holding nothing back.
When she finally turned off the recorder, she smiled.
"This is going to be a beautiful story. Thank you for trusting me with it."
After she left, Declan pulled me close.
"That wasn't as terrible as I expected."
"High praise."
"From me, definitely." He kissed my forehead. "You were amazing."
"We were amazing."
"True."
The article ran two weeks later.
From Contract to Forever: The Unlikely Love Story of Declan and Olivia Kane
It was beautiful. Honest. Everything we'd hoped.
My mother called crying. Evelyn sent approximately forty texts. Margaret printed a copy for her desk.
Even Julian, through some anonymous channel, sent a note: You win. This time.
Declan read it, crumpled it, threw it away.
"He's not worth our energy," he said.
"Agreed."
We stood on the balcony, watching the city, the article still open on my phone.
"Happy?" he asked.
"Ridiculously."
"Good." He kissed me. "Me too."