“Thank you for last night...”

Kataleya barely got the words out before Elizabeth Cox cut in. She dipped into a slight bow toward Maximilian Carter. “Thank you, Mr. Carter, for finding my phone last night. If I'd lost it, all those important documents and files would've been gone. I'm truly grateful.”

The words—and the sincerity stamped on her face—were almost too earnest. To anyone in the know, it was just a phone. To anyone who wasn't, it might've sounded like something far worse had happened to warrant that kind of gratitude.

Kataleya stood frozen beside her, her own curiosity forgotten as she stared at Elizabeth with wide eyes.

“Just a small favor,” Maximilian said smoothly, his dark eyes briefly meeting hers.

“We won't keep you from your breakfast, Mr. Carter. Please, enjoy your meal.” Elizabeth gently pulled Kataleya aside, her face fixed in a tight smile. Her eyes silently pleaded with Maximilian, begging him to drop the subject and not mention what had happened the night before.

Maximilian's gaze lingered on her a beat longer. Then, without another word, he headed toward the main dining table.

As his group passed Elizabeth and Kataleya, relief crashed through her.

She had been terrified.

Drawing a deep breath, Elizabeth realized she was soaked in a cold sweat. Shaken didn't even begin to cover it.

Kataleya, momentarily distracted from her gossip, was glued to the sight of Maximilian's retreating form. “Mr. Carter is stunning from afar, but up close? Wow. Dating a man like that would make your whole family celebrate!”

Elizabeth let out a chuckle despite herself, teasing, “If your family knew what you were thinking, they’d never let you live it down.”

Kataleya rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, stop it. Let's eat. Afterward, I'm heading home to see my boyfriend.”

“Sounds good,” Elizabeth agreed, grateful her mischievous friend was so easily distracted by food. She was relieved Kataleya didn't press her about last night.

After lunch, the annual company retreat officially wrapped up. Employees were to head home by bus, while upper management rolled out in their luxury cars.

Elizabeth took a window seat on the bus, staring outside, lost in thought. Her reverie was interrupted by Kataleya's excited voice from the seat ahead. “Oh my god, Mr. Carter's Rolls-Royce is breathtaking! Why wasn’t I lucky enough to land a handsome, wealthy CEO like that?”

Elizabeth watched the imposing luxury car roll by. The contrast between their lives was stark.

Her phone kept buzzing with messages, dragging her attention away from the window. It was her mother. Before the gala, her family had been trying to marry her off to an older man—pushing her to lock it down fast because he'd promised her family a massive marriage settlement.

Elizabeth had refused. She'd thought the whole thing had blown over, like it had before. But when she got home, the pressure to marry was worse than ever.

To avoid going home early, she stayed at the office all day, then hid out at a nearby library until late before finally heading back.

At her door, she took a deep breath and turned the key.

Opening the door, she was shocked to find her belongings strewn across the living room floor.

Her mother was on the couch, crying uncontrollably.

“Who threw my things out?” Elizabeth's fists clenched in rage at the sight.

“Our lady of the house has returned,” Sabrina said sarcastically from the couch, eyes glued to her game.

Hearing this, her stepfather, Barry, who had been smoking on the balcony, stormed in, furious, tossing his cigarette aside.

Before she could react, he slapped her hard across the face. “After all we've done to raise you, you contribute nothing to this family! We found a good match for you, and you ruined it! The man agreed to pay the family generously, and you didn't even show up for the date. Where have you been, messing around with some guy until this hour?!”

Barry's words were harsh and condescending. Had Elizabeth's mother not intervened, he might have struck her again.

The blow landed hard, a hot swell already rising on Elizabeth's fair cheek. It caught her completely off guard.

Her eyes widened in disbelief, disillusionment washing over her. Despite years of mistreatment and verbal abuse, she'd always handed over most of her paycheck to help them, keeping only a small portion for herself. Her patience and devotion had gotten her nothing but the prospect of being sold off to a stranger.

Something inside her snapped. Elizabeth lashed out, hurling her purse at Barry.

“What gives you the right to hit me? My real parents never did. Who the hell do you think you are to lay a hand on me?”

“You ungrateful brat! Your father is dead. I'm your father now, and if it wasn't for me and my compassion, you wouldn't have a roof over your head!” Barry shouted, stepping back, clutching his face where the purse had hit him.

“You're pathetic!” Elizabeth retorted coldly, standing tall in the doorway, staring him down with icy defiance. “I put myself through school, earned my own living, and my mom works multiple jobs to keep this household afloat. And you call us a burden!”

She trembled with anger, her eyes fixed on Barry, filled with a fierce resolve.

“If you hadn't tricked my mom into signing over my dad's house, you'd have nowhere to live!”

"Elizabeth, lower your voice," her mother said softly, disapproval threading through the words. Elizabeth caught the swollen, tear-stained eyes—the kind that came from hours of crying. Even now, after all this upheaval, her mother was still reaching for peace. It left Elizabeth worn thin, drained down to the bone.

Elizabeth drew a deep breath and pulled herself together. "Then why don't you offer your own daughter up for sale?" The words came out sharp with frustration.

"I am not marrying a guy who looks like a pig," Sabrina cut in from the couch, smug and completely unbothered. "Elizabeth, you'd better hurry up and say yes while you're still young. Otherwise, once you hit thirty, nobody's going to want you."

Elizabeth's anger simmered beneath the surface—a silent storm of cold fury. She turned to her mother. "Mom, is that what you think too?"

Her mother's evasive gaze said enough. Elizabeth felt like a stranger in her own home.

"Sabrina," her mother said, trying to quiet her other daughter, but Sabrina just rolled her eyes with blatant indifference.

"Either you get married tomorrow, or you get out of my house!" Barry, her stepfather, declared with icy finality.

Elizabeth looked at her mother, exasperation written all over her face. "Mom, after all these years, what do you have to say for yourself?" Her voice was thick with disappointment.

Her mother's weakness surfaced, and Barry cut in harshly. "I'm the head of this household now. For the rest of your life, I'm the one you'll have to depend on. You think you can count on her?"

Elizabeth's mother fell quiet, subdued under his domineering presence. "Elizabeth, listen to your father."

"My father's dead," Elizabeth shot back, her gaze piercing as she stared Barry down.

"Then get out! Get out of my house, you ungrateful brat! I doubt you'll survive on your own!" Barry shouted, disdain dripping from every word.

Feeling deeply betrayed, Elizabeth packed her clothes with determination, slammed her suitcase shut, and headed for the door. "Fine. I'm leaving!" Her voice was a mix of anger and sorrow.

Barry hadn't expected her to resist. He trailed after her, bellowing into the corridor, "If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!"

Elizabeth didn't turn around. Her footsteps echoed as she stepped into the elevator.

Outside, the rain was pouring down in sheets.

With only her suitcase, Elizabeth walked into the downpour. The rain lashed her skin and mixed with her tears.

Lightning split the sky in a blinding flash, followed by a roar of thunder. Elizabeth flinched and shielded her head with her arms.

She had always hated stormy nights.

Her father had died in an accident on a night like this.

Dragging her suitcase, Elizabeth took refuge at a nearby bus stop. The wind howled, and the rain battered everything in its path, making even finding a spot to rest a challenge.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, her vision blurring as she fiddled with her phone. The battery hovered at a measly five percent. When it rains, it pours—and for Elizabeth, that had never felt more true. Life kept hurling new hurdles at her with every step she took.

With a sardonic chuckle at her predicament, Elizabeth opened the company group chat and found Maximilian Carter's contact.

Without overthinking it, she sent a friend request.

Her verification message read, "Mr. Carter, is your marriage proposal from this afternoon still on the table?"

After she hit send, Elizabeth couldn't help but scorn herself. She had already turned Maximilian down twice. What made her think he'd still be interested?

At the hospital, Maximilian Carter stood silently at his grandmother’s bedside, watching her breathe through the oxygen mask. His usually unreadable face was drawn with worry. His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting through the quiet. He pulled it out and saw a friend request.

He frowned slightly and accepted. Elizabeth Cox. Maximilian tapped “Accept” without hesitation.

Elizabeth hadn’t expected him to move that fast. When his reply came through, she wiped her tears and typed with trembling fingers: Could you come pick me up? We need to talk.

To her, his brief response felt like a lifeline. She wasn’t optimistic about marriage, but maybe a relationship of mutual convenience wouldn’t be the worst thing. Just as she sent him her location, her phone died—whether from the rain or a low battery, she couldn’t tell.

She made up her mind: if he showed up, she’d marry him. If he didn’t, she’d let it go.

Maximilian pocketed his phone and started to leave, but his grandmother’s frail hand caught his. She was showing signs of waking.

“You stubborn boy...”

“Grandma, I didn’t mean to upset you. I have someone I care about, and I’m planning to marry her tomorrow. So please, don’t be mad at me anymore, okay?” His tone softened, a hint of playfulness slipping through.

His grandmother’s dull eyes lit with joy. “Really?” She tried to sit up.

Maximilian gently pressed her back down and tucked the blanket around her with care. “Really. I’ll go pick her up now, and tomorrow I’ll bring her to meet you. You should rest.”

“Alright... but no more lies,” she said.

“I promise.” He nodded.

To the world, Maximilian Carter was known for his cold demeanor, but with his grandmother, he was endlessly patient. After making sure she was settled and telling the nurses to keep an eye on her, he grabbed his car keys.

“Mr. Carter, there’s a severe storm warning today. It might not be safe to drive,” his bodyguard said.

“I’ll be fine,” Maximilian assured him.

He went down to the garage and started the car. In the stormy night, the black Maybach looked like a lone beacon, cutting purposefully toward its destination.

Outside, Elizabeth sheltered under a bus stop, fighting the relentless wind and rain. She clung to her suitcase, feeling exposed. She thought about moving somewhere better but worried Maximilian wouldn’t be able to find her.

The rain hammered the bus stop roof while the wind whipped through the trees. Her anxiety climbed. What if he didn’t come? Just as she considered finding better shelter, a black car approached, its headlights slicing through the storm.

Elizabeth’s face lit with surprise.

The Maybach rolled to a steady stop. Despite the fierce storm, Maximilian stepped out without an umbrella, immediately soaked but focused on the girl standing alone in the rain. She looked vulnerable—like an abandoned puppy—and it tugged at something in his chest.

“Get in,” he said, his voice cutting through the storm as he bent to pick up her suitcase.

Elizabeth’s tears streamed down her face. “I thought you wouldn’t come,” she said, her eyes swollen as she looked at him.

Buffeted by the storm, Elizabeth shivered from the cold—and from a sudden, unfamiliar sense of security. His arrival felt like a beacon in her dark world. Her tears shifted from despair to relief, her eyes brighter now.

Seeing how distressed she was, Maximilian helped her into the passenger seat. “Get in,” he urged gently.

Elizabeth felt his firm grip on her hand, numb from the cold rain. The moment felt unreal.

Suddenly, the storm intensified. With a loud crash, part of the bus shelter tore loose and flew toward them. Maximilian reacted instinctively, shielding Elizabeth with his body.

She felt his strong presence like a protective barrier and heard his pained grunt as something struck him.

“Are you alright?” Elizabeth asked, fear in her voice.

“I’m fine,” Maximilian replied, brow furrowed as he ignored the pain in his arm and kept shielding her toward the car.

Once their luggage was stowed and they were both inside, the Maybach’s cabin offered refuge from the storm outside.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, ignoring her own soaked face, vividly recalling the sound of metal hitting the ground.

“Let’s go home first,” Maximilian said, giving no further details as he started the engine and headed home.

Elizabeth clutched her seatbelt tightly, holding her breath, reluctant to break the silence between them. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Maximilian’s sharp profile, and the situation felt surreal.

About forty minutes later, they arrived at the underground garage of Maximilian’s villa.

“We’re here,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing her damaged suitcase.

Elizabeth followed him, the long exposure to rain leaving her chilly and congested. Her voice held a nasal quality: “Mr. Carter, can we talk?”

Standing by the car door, her swollen eyes lingered on his cool, composed face.

“Let’s get changed first,” Maximilian replied, carrying her suitcase toward the elevator.

Elizabeth trailed behind him, her steps cautious. Her current demeanor was a stark contrast to the boldness she had shown the previous night.

Maximilian paused, waiting for her to catch up. She moved slowly, her head down, eyes fixed on her toes—completely different from the carefree spirit she’d been when tipsy.

He stood there, watching her approach, her wet shoes and Victorian-style dress dripping onto the floor.

Why hadn’t he moved?

Elizabeth stopped and looked up.

“Name your terms, or we’ll do this my way,” Maximilian said, his voice filled with authority.

Sniffling, Elizabeth quickly responded, “We’ll have a marriage of convenience, keep your identity secret, and divorce in six or twelve months. We’ll have separate bedrooms,” she proposed, avoiding his intense gaze.

Feeling slightly guilty, she added, “You did say you’d take responsibility.”

Aware of her limited bargaining power, she waited for his response.

“I agree to the first three points. We’ll discuss divorce later. Explain the separate bedrooms,” Maximilian said, tilting her chin so she had to meet his gaze.

Forced to look at him, her lips parted, and she stammered, “I want my own room, in case you... you...”

Her words faltered as her face turned crimson with embarrassment. Her eyes, wide and teary, avoided his.

Maximilian’s eyes softened with a hint of amusement as he took in her flushed face and damp eyelashes. “So, if I want, I’ll visit your room? Hmm?” His voice was low, laced with a teasing tone.