The words lingered longer than they should have.
Mrs. Cole.
Lena didn't react immediately.
Her fingers loosened around the pen as she placed it carefully on the table, as if any sudden movement might make everything feel more real than it already did.
Across from her, Adrian had already moved on.
The file was closed. The decision, to him, was done.
But to Lena—
It had just begun.
"What happens now?" she asked.
Her voice was steady.
Surprisingly steady.
Adrian glanced at her briefly, as if assessing something. Then he reached for his glass, taking a slow sip before answering.
"Now," he said, "we make it believable."
Lena frowned slightly.
"I thought that was the point of the contract."
"It is," he replied. "But contracts don't convince people. Appearances do."
That made sense.
She didn't like that it made sense.
Adrian set the glass down and leaned back slightly.
"You'll move into my house," he said.
Lena blinked.
"…Move in?"
"Yes."
"That wasn't—" she stopped herself, then shook her head slightly. "That wasn't clearly stated."
"It was implied."
Of course it was.
Lena let out a quiet breath, pressing her fingers lightly against the table.
"For how long?"
"Three months," he said. "As agreed."
"No, I mean—permanently?"
Adrian's gaze didn't waver.
"You can't be my wife only when it's convenient," he said calmly. "People will notice."
That word again.
People.
The invisible audience she was now expected to perform for.
"There will be an announcement tomorrow," he continued.
Lena's head snapped up.
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"That's too soon."
"No," Adrian said. "It's necessary."
Her chest tightened slightly.
This was moving too fast.
Everything was moving too fast.
"You'll have a stylist," he added. "And someone will brief you on public expectations."
"Public expectations," Lena repeated quietly.
"Yes."
She let out a small breath, shaking her head slightly.
"This isn't just pretending," she said.
"No," Adrian agreed. "It isn't."
Silence settled between them again.
But this time, it felt heavier.
Lena glanced down at the table, her thoughts moving quickly now.
Her apartment.
Her things.
Her life—what was left of it.
Was she really about to just… leave it behind?
"And my work?" she asked.
Adrian's expression didn't change.
"You can continue," he said. "As long as it doesn't interfere."
Doesn't interfere.
With him.
With this arrangement.
With the image he was trying to build.
Lena nodded slowly, though something about that answer didn't sit right with her.
"And if it does?" she asked.
Adrian didn't hesitate.
"Then you prioritize correctly."
The meaning was clear.
This came first.
Everything else came second.
For a moment, Lena said nothing.
She simply sat there, absorbing it.
This wasn't just a contract.
It was control.
Structured. Polished. Hidden behind calm words and clean documents—but still control.
And she had agreed to it.
Adrian stood.
The movement was smooth, final.
"Finish your dinner," he said. "A car will take you home."
Lena looked up at him.
"That's it?"
"For tonight," he replied.
He adjusted his sleeve slightly, then added—
"Be ready by eight tomorrow morning."
"For what?"
A pause.
Then—
"To become my wife."
He left just like that.
No hesitation.
No backward glance.
Lena remained seated.
The chair felt colder now.
The table larger.
The air heavier.
She looked down at her hands.
They were steady.
But inside—
Nothing felt steady anymore.
Tomorrow.
An announcement.
A new life.
A name that wasn't hers.
Lena let out a slow breath and leaned back slightly in her chair.
Three months, she reminded herself.
Just three months.
Then it ends.
Everything goes back to normal.
But even as that thought crossed her mind—
It didn't feel true.
Outside, the night had fully settled.
And somewhere between the contract she had signed…
And the life she was about to step into—
Lena couldn't shake the quiet, unsettling feeling that
nothing
was ever going to be normal again.