2
The smell of roasted beans clung to the air as I stirred my coffee absentmindedly, Across from me, Alice was grinning like she knew something I didn’t.
“You’ve been postponing your project meetings lately,” she said, lifting her cup. “Let m guess. Too many rich–people events with your husband?”
I gave her a deadpan look. “It’s not what you think.”
She leaned closer, chin resting on her hand. “No strings attached, purely business… yeah yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
“It is,” I insisted, sipping my latte. “He needed a wife for his inheritance. I needed ar escape. That’s it.”
“But he’s hot,” she smirked. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Fine. Yes. He’s nice. Smart. Annoyingly hot. Always composed smells like sin and power, and somehow manages to look expensive even in a T–shirt”
“Exactly my point.” She raised her brows suggestively.
“But,” I cut her off, setting my cup down with a soft clink, “I’m not interested in love. No anymore. I’ve been burned once, not going for seconds.”
Alice sobered, nodding slowly. “Fair enough… but you sounded a little weird earlier. Like you’re curious about him?”
I hesitated before confessing, “I think he’s in love with someone else.” Alice blinked. “Wait, what? Why would you say that?”
I leaned back, eyes unfocused. “The other day, he pulled out his wallet to get something. I saw a photo inside. It wasn’t clear, but it was of a woman. Looked important. He doesn’t talk about her, and I haven’t seen anything in the estate to suggest he’s currently dating someone, but still…”
Alice hummed. “You know… now that you say that, I do remember hearing something. Some rumor that he used to date someone seriously. But no name, no face. Nothing.” “Exactly,” I murmured. “But hey–none of my business. I’m not planning on falling for a man who might already belong to someone else.”
She gave me a look. “You’re already thinking too much.”
I smiled faintly. “Which is why we should change the topic. Let’s talk about the project.” We dove into plans and outlines, but even after the meeting, my thoughts lingered around
Rozen.
When I returned to the estate, the smell of garlic and herbs filled the air. My eyes widened as I found Rozen in the kitchen–apron on, sleeves rolled up, preparing what looked like a full dinner spread.
“You cook?” I asked, more amused than shocked.
Rozen glanced up, then shrugged. “Sometimes.”
19:24 Fri, 18 Apr
“What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion.” He slid a bowl toward me. “Eat with me.”
I arched a brow. “Why?”
He met my gaze without hesitation. “Because I want to.”
* 60%
Something about his tone made me pause. It wasn’t a command, it wasn’t even a suggestion–it was… a request. And it felt oddly intimate.
I took a seat.
“You’re not as cold as you pretend to be,” I muttered while chewing.
He didn’t look at me. “You’re not as detached as you claim.”
Touché.
A beat passed in silence before I asked, “How long do you think this arrangement will last?”
He paused, setting his glass down. “Until one of us breaks the rule.”
I nodded. “The no–falling–in–love clause.”
Rozen’s lips tugged into a small smirk. “Exactly. And if one of us does… they pay the price.”
I smiled wryly. “Don’t worry. I won’t. I don’t believe in love anymore.”
Then, curious, I ventured, “Have you ever been in love?”
The question seemed to shift the atmosphere.
Rozen stilled, eyes darkening slightly. His fork hovered above his plate, then slowly lowered. But he didn’t answer.
I didn’t push. His silence spoke louder than words.
Later that night, the estate was quieter than usual. The stillness felt heavy. I wandered aimlessly, my feet guiding me through winding halls until I stumbled upon a large double–door tucked in a dim corner.
Curiosity got the better of me.
I pushed the doors open and gasped.
A library. A massive one.
Floor–to–ceiling shelves stretched across every wall, filled with books that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years. There was a faint scent of old paper, mahogany, and something floral. My eyes wandered to the center of the room where a large painting hung -an oil portrait of a woman.
She was beautiful. Delicate. Her eyes held a softness I’d never seen in Rozen. Was this…
her?
Beneath the portrait was a long wooden table with neatly arranged vases, framed photos, and tiny knickknacks. My fingers brushed a porcelain vase trimmed with gold.
I lifted it, curious. There was a faint inscription on the bottom in cursive. I tilted it to read it
–
Chapter 8
3/3 32.0%
19:24 Fri, 18 Apr
Chapter 9
60%
It shattered on the floor. Porcelain shards scattered like fragments of my heartbeat, delicate pieces ruined in an instant.
I stared at the mess, stunned, not understanding why his voice had sounded so… furious.
Rozen stormed toward me, his eyes blazing, fury painting every angle of his face. “What the hell are you doing?!” he bellowed.
I flinched. “I–I didn’t mean to-”
“This isn’t just some thing!” he spat, grabbing the broken remains off the ground, his hand trembling. “That vase was hers–she made it-” His voice cracked. “And now it’s gone.”
The word “her” hit me like ice water. My breath caught. His… her?
I was too stunned to move. But he wasn’t done.
“You shouldn’t be in here. This room–these things-” His voice grew louder with every syllable. “You don’t belong here!”
He shoved me–hard. I wasn’t ready. My feet tangled beneath me. I stumbled back, crashing onto the broken glass.
Pain bloomed across my arm as a shard sliced through skin. I let out a sharp gasp, the sting deep and real. He paused, but only for a moment–then the rage returned.
“GET OUT!” Rozen roared. “Get out now!”
Tears blurred my vision. I scrambled to my feet, broken glass biting at my palms, legs shaky as I stumbled past him.
I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.
The corridor outside the library felt a thousand miles long. Every step away from that room was soaked in confusion and shame and a fresh, aching betrayal I couldn’t explain.
By the time I reached my room, my hands were trembling, blood trailing down my forearm. My knees hit the floor as I collapsed, pressing my lips together to silence the sobs rising in my chest.
I didn’t mean to break it. I didn’t know. I didn’t- But none of it mattered.
The girl in the painting. The vase. Whoever she was–she had a part of Rozen I would never touch. And that realization? It gutted me.
He had never shouted at me like that before. Never looked at me like I was a mistake. But tonight, he did. And for a moment, I felt like I was back in the past–betrayed, unwanted, unimportant.
I cried. Quietly, bitterly. My hand throbbed, my heart worse. My hand throbbed, my heart worse. The pain from the glass couldn’t compare to the sting that bloomed in my chest. And as the tears soaked into the pillow, memories started slipping in through the cracks of my walls.
Thomas. His lies. His charm. His betrayal.
Chante–O
19:24 Fri, 18 Apr
Scott. The fake warmth. The promises that meant nothing.
I remembered it all now. The moment I found out. The way they gaslit me. The way they made me feel like I was crazy, stupid, for believing I was loved.
And tonight–Rozen’s voice, his eyes… it brought all of that flooding back.
Even though this was different. Even though I knew it wasn’t the same.
The ache felt familiar. Why did it hurt so much? Why did I care that he had someone in the past? Why did I care about a vase, a painting, a name I didn’t even know?
Why… was my chest this tight?
No strings attached. That was the deal. That was supposed to protect me.
I had told myself over and over–I won’t fall. I won’t feel. I won’t love. But then why did it feel like I had already broken every rule I’d made?
I curled tighter into myself, like I could hide from the thoughts crowding in my head.
No. No, I shouldn’t be like this.
He didn’t love me. He made that clear from day one. It was just a contract. A performance. A convenient partnership. I was Mrs. Blackwood on paper. Not in his heart.
And I was okay with that. Wasn’t I? So why did tonight feel like heartbreak?
I buried my face into the sheets, fists clenched around the fabric, trying to block out the questions, the doubts, the rising fear that I had gotten too close–again.
I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be breaking. I shouldn’t be… feeling.
!
“Just business,” I whispered into the silence. “No strings attached…”
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the silence. Then the warmth.
Someone had dressed my wounds. My arm was wrapped in clean gauze, the sting numbed. My clothes were changed too, replaced with soft, fresh fabric. A blanket had been pulled over me. Someone… had taken care of me while I was unconscious.
I sat up slowly. My limbs were heavy. My head, foggy. But my heart? That still ached. I rose from the bed and crossed the room, dragging my suitcase from the closet. My fingers moved quickly, packing what little I had.
It wasn’t about pride. It was about self–respect. He didn’t want to love. I didn’t want to fall. For now, I have to leave.
I folded the last of my clothes, zipped the bag, and reached for my coat when a firm hand landed on mine.
I froze. Rozen.
His expression was unreadable. Not angry anymore. Not cold. Just… tired.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I didn’t respond. My eyes dropped to his hand, still resting on mine. He noticed, pulled it back.
“I shouldn’t have shouted at you,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. That was—”
19:25 Fri, 18 Apr.
60%
“I shouldn’t have shouted at you,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. That was-”
he inhaled sharply, jaw tight. “That vase… it belonged to someone I cared about. A long time ago. And when you touched it–I panicked.”
“I didn’t mean to break it,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I didn’t know it was hers.”
“I know that too.” He looked away. “I just… lost control.”
The silence stretched. My throat tightened.
“I’m still leaving,” I finally said. “I need to accept that project. If you need a wife, just call me. After all, no strings attached.”
19:25 Fri, 18 Apr
