Hannah froze.

She had completely forgotten about that part.

"No," Hannah blurted spontaneously, her voice barely a whisper. Her face drained of color; her makeup failed to hide her panic.

Lucas turned to look at Hannah. His eyes met her panicked gaze for just a fleeting moment. "Just on the forehead."

Hannah's eyes widened. "Mr. Lucas..." Her voice was faint, almost inaudible.

"I won't force you," Lucas replied with utmost composure, speaking so softly that it seemed only his lips moved.

Hannah looked at him. At such a close distance, she caught a glimpse of something she had never seen at the office—Lucas was waiting for her consent. He wasn't commanding, nor was he taking control.

Hannah gave a small nod. Despite her inner reluctance, she had no alternative.

Lucas leaned in. His lips touched Hannah's forehead, brief and warm.

Hannah closed her eyes, and suddenly, her tears spilled over.

She didn't know why. Perhaps the touch was too tender. Perhaps it was a gesture she hadn't envisioned. Or perhaps it was because today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, only for everything to end up in ruins.

Hannah bit her lip, holding back a sob.

Lucas pulled back. He saw the tears but made no comment. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he made a slight motion as if to wipe them away, but paused mid-air. Instead, he simply placed a handkerchief into Hannah's hand.

"Use this," Lucas said quietly.

Hannah gripped the fabric. It carried the same scent as Lucas's jacket—a clean aroma of wood and soap.

Hannah longed to break free from Lucas, having every reason to do so, but her financial circumstances held her bound. And now, she was trapped in a marriage with this very man.

**

An hour later.

Hannah stood alone in the hospital corridor.

Her wedding gown had been replaced with a blouse and trousers. The band on her ring finger felt heavy, prompting her to hide her hands inside her pockets.

"Miss Brooks?" Nurse Claire greeted her outside the room. "She has been waiting for you."

Hannah took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure before seeing her mother.

"How is my mother's condition right now?" Hannah asked, her eyes full of hope.

"She is calmer now, though she keeps asking about you," Nurse Claire replied warmly.

"I see, Nurse. Thank you." Hannah nodded gently.

Standing outside her mother's room, Hannah inhaled deeply once more, knocked on the door, and stepped inside.

Upon entering, Hannah's eyes landed on Eleanor, who was resting against the headboard. Her greying hair was neatly combed. Though her face was pale, her eyes lit up the moment she saw Hannah enter.

"Hannah!" Eleanor reached out her hand. "My daughter."

The corners of Hannah's lips curved upward, doing her best to project happiness and serenity. She walked over and clasped Eleanor's hand—cold and slender. Hannah held her breath for a brief moment.

Eleanor's eyes sparkled, her smile widening. "How was the ceremony? Tell me everything. I've been waiting since this morning."

Hannah forced a smile. "It went smoothly, Mom."

"Smoothly?" Eleanor let out a soft chuckle. "Weren't you nervous? I nearly fainted at the altar back in my day."

Observing her mother speaking with such enthusiasm, Hannah forced her smile to stay in place. "A little."

Eleanor's smile was deeply affectionate. "And Ethan? Did he cry tears of joy?"

Hannah froze, realizing she hadn't prepared a single answer for that question.

Eleanor observed her daughter's sudden silence. "Hannah?"

"Ethan..." She swallowed hard, her tongue growing stiff. "He couldn't come here. He still... has some matters to handle with his family." Hannah quickly concocted an excuse to prevent further questions.

"On your wedding day?" Eleanor's brows furrowed.

Hannah gave a subtle nod, a hint of sorrow showing on her face. "You know how his family is, Mom. It's complicated."

"I understand," Eleanor said with a gentle nod, though disappointment lingered on her face before she smiled again. "It's alright. What matters is that the two of you are officially married. I can rest easy knowing there's someone taking care of you now."

Those words pierced right through Hannah. A heavy wave of guilt washed over her for having to deceive her mother, yet she had no other choice.

Eleanor exhaled a long breath and said, "Let me see your ring."

Hannah's heart seemed to stop beat. "What?"

Eleanor smiled softly, assuming Hannah was merely overwhelmed by post-wedding jitters. "The ring, darling. I haven't seen it yet."

Hannah slowly withdrew her hand from her pocket. The plain band shimmered under the room's fluorescent lights. It was not the ring she had chosen alongside Ethan.

Eleanor stared at it for a long moment. "It's very simple."

"Yes," Hannah's voice was barely a whisper.

"But it's lovely," Eleanor took Hannah's hand and stroked her finger gently. "Lovely, just like you."

Hannah felt a painful tightness in her chest, seeing the immense joy her mother derived from believing she was married—unaware of who the groom truly was.

Hannah desperately wanted to confess. She wanted to weep on her mother's lap and admit that everything had collapsed. She wanted to reveal that the man she had married today was not the one her mother assumed.

Yet beneath her mother's hospital gown, the heart monitor maintained a steady rhythm—a faint sound, but powerful enough to keep her from revealing the truth.

"I am so happy," Eleanor whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. "Now I can truly be at peace."

"You need to rest, Mom." Hannah wished to avoid further conversation.

Eleanor's gaze remained fixed on Hannah's face. "Just a little longer. Let me look at you first."

Hannah sat at the edge of the bed. She permitted her mother to gaze at her, letting those aging fingers stroke her cheek, brushing away a tear that had fallen unnoticed.

"Why are you crying?" Eleanor asked tenderly, a flash of concern appearing on her face.

Hannah pressed her lips together briefly. "Because I'm happy, Mom."

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

Eleanor smiled and closed her eyes. "Me too."

Before long, her breathing slowed, and Eleanor's grip loosened.

Panic surged through Hannah at her mother's sudden closure of her eyes.

"Mom, are you tired?" Hannah's voice was little more than a whisper.

Eleanor gave a faint nod. "I feel at peace now, and I want to rest for a bit." She drifted off to sleep, a lingering smile remaining on her lips.

Hannah remained seated there, motionless, simply gazing at her mother's face, which finally appeared tranquil.

Seeing how stable her mother's condition was, Hannah knew she had to keep her marriage to Lucas a complete secret. She could not risk causing her mother's health to deteriorate again.

Hannah sat in silence until she caught the faint sound of the door creaking open.

She turned to find Lucas standing at the threshold, still dressed in his black suit. One hand rested inside his trousers pocket, his gaze fixed on the sleeping Eleanor.

Why was Lucas here?

At that moment, Lucas shifted his gaze toward Hannah. Their eyes met in absolute silence.

The car sped out of the city.

Hannah realized it after fifteen minutes. The tall skyscrapers gave way to trees, and the houses on both sides grew larger, spaced further and further apart.

"Are we going to your house?" Hannah turned to Lucas, who was driving.

"My family's estate," Lucas said flatly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "My father is waiting."

Hannah fell silent, shifting her gaze out the window.

Hannah stared into the dark road. For five years, she had managed this man's schedule, yet during all that time, she had only ever dispatched documents to the front gates of that estate.

Lucas preferred sleeping in hotels, in the apartments of whoever knew who—wherever there was a woman waiting. His own home was merely a temporary pitstop.

"Today?" Hannah sought confirmation. Initially, she had assumed Lucas would take her to his apartment or ask her to return to her own place.

"Father requested proof before nightfall." Lucas's voice was flat and composure-drawn.

Hannah's brow furrowed deeply. "Proof of what?"

"That I am married."

Hannah turned to him slowly. So, was this the reason Lucas had stepped in as a replacement groom? Did he need a married status as well?

Hannah had never expected Lucas to be caught in a situation like this.

"What do I need to do?" Hannah asked eventually, refraining from asking for an explanation regarding his words.

"Stand beside me. Do not let go of my hand." Lucas's voice remained flat and cold.

"That's it?"

"That is already difficult enough." Lucas's eyes flicked briefly toward the ring on Hannah's finger. "They will say cruel things. Do not listen to them."

Hannah turned her gaze back to the window. She had envisioned going on a honeymoon after her wedding with Ethan. Her leave request had already been approved. Yet now, she had no choice but to head to Lucas's family.

A sharp ache tightened her chest. She gripped the strap of her bag until her knuckles turned white.

A short while later, they arrived at the Ashford residence.

The iron gates parted slowly. The grand mansion sat at the far end of the driveway—three stories high, with golden light emanating from every window and soaring white pillars. It was breathtaking, yet inherently cold.

Their car pulled up at the drop-off area. Hannah stepped out simultaneously with Lucas.

"Hold my hand."

Hannah looked down at Lucas's hand. Yes, she had to play her part in this facade under this roof. Hannah reached out and took Lucas's hand.

They walked toward the massive front doors that stood imposing before them.

The moment they set foot near the entrance, the double doors swung open. A butler stood at the threshold, his eyes widening upon seeing Lucas.

"Master Lucas. You have returned." The butler bowed deeply toward Lucas.

"Yes." Lucas's tone was as cold as ice.

"The Master is in the dining room." The butler opened the door wide, stepping slightly aside to clear the way.

Lucas tightened his grip on Hannah's hand.

Hannah glanced up. Lucas wasn't looking at her, but she could sense the tension taut across his features.

They walked down a long corridor lined with family portraits on the walls. Stern-faced men filled every frame, along with a solitary young boy who failed to smile in any of the pictures.

That boy was Lucas.

Hannah continued following Lucas's lead until they arrived before a set of glass doors.

Unconsciously, Hannah slowed her pace. Her gaze drifted toward the open dining room doorway.

A long table made of dark wood, a crystal chandelier hanging above, and four people who instantly stopped talking the moment the two stepped inside.

"You're back," said a man seated at the head of the table. His hair was silver, his attire immaculate, and his voice sounded like a heavy iron gate slamming shut—harsh and commanding. "This is quite a miracle." His words carried a sharp edge of sarcasm.

"I told you I would bring proof, Father." Lucas looked at Gerald Ashford, the father who had just taken a jab at his return.

Gerald scanned Hannah from head to toe in a slow, calculating manner. "This?"

Hannah felt her face burn. She straightened her back.

"This is Hannah," Lucas said. He turned to Hannah, his expression softening unexpectedly. "My wife."

A profound silence descended upon the dining room—especially after hearing the form of address Lucas used.

A woman seated on the right side of the table even dropped her fork, causing a sharp clang to echo through the room.

"Wife?" The woman's voice was gentle, almost disbelieving. Her hair was swept into a neat bun, and her eyes were soft. "Lucas, you... when?" Diane Ashford—Lucas's mother—looked on in complete disbelief at what she had just heard.

"This morning."

Silence engulfed the room once more. The tension hung thick in the air following Lucas's declaration.

"Are you joking?" The father's voice shattered the momentary stillness.

"As I said, I would come home with a wife, and I did."

A few seconds of suffocating silence hung over the dining room until a clarifying sentence shattered it once more.

"This morning?" Daniel Ashford—Lucas's older brother—let out a soft chuckle. He stared at Lucas with a mocking tone. "My dearest brother, that was fast. Yesterday you didn't even have a girlfriend, as far as I knew."

Lucas's gaze sharpened on Daniel, one corner of his lips pulling into a thin curve. "I don't need to report my life to you, Daniel."

"Of course not." Daniel leaned his back against his chair. His eyes shifted toward Hannah. "But I am curious. Who is the woman who managed to make you come back home? And made you actually want to get married?" A faint smirk crept onto Daniel's lips.

Hannah held her breath. There was something in the way Daniel looked at her. It wasn't disdain; it felt more as if he were taking her measure.

Still, she remained calm, honoring the agreement she had accepted from Lucas. "I am Hannah Brooks." Hannah bowed politely.

"Brooks." Olivia—Daniel's wife—furrowed her brows. She sat in a beige dress whose price tag surely exceeded Hannah's monthly salary. "Miss Brooks. Aren't you Lucas's secretary?"

Hannah's fingers clenched slowly. Despite the tension she felt, the smile remained fixed on her lips. "That is correct."

"Ah." Olivia offered a faint smile. "A romance with the secretary, or..."

The unfinished sentence was enough to make Hannah feel belittled.

"No wonder," Olivia continued to her husband, loud enough to be overheard. "She must have memorized all of Lucas's schedules and weaknesses. Clever girl."

Hannah opened her mouth, intending to say something, but Lucas spoke first.

"Olivia." Lucas's voice was low, yet dangerously sharp.

Everyone turned to look.

"She is my wife." Lucas took half a step forward, covering Hannah's shoulders with his body. "If you want to speak about her, do so politely."

Olivia fell silent, her face flushing as her palms clenched tightly against her thighs.

Hannah was stunned that Lucas had immediately stepped in to protect her. She stared at Lucas's back—broad and warm right in front of her eyes. Suddenly, her heart beat with a strange flutter.

He's just acting.

Yet Lucas's hand was still holding hers, and his grip did not slacken.

"Enough." Gerald stood up. He set down his napkin and walked closer. His steps were slow, but the entire room seemed to shrink with his presence.

He stopped in front of Hannah. His aging eyes were cold, grey like steel.

"Do you know who my son is?" Gerald's voice was firm and deep.

"I do, sir," Hannah spoke in a steady tone.

"He changes women the way he changes watches." Gerald spoke without hiding a single flaw of his son's character.

Hannah stood her ground. Gerald's demeanor did not make her back down. "I am aware of that as well."

The corner of Gerald's lips twitched slightly. It was not a smile, but a cold sense of curiosity. "Then why did you agree to marry him?"

The question struck her weakest point. All eyes waited for her answer. Lucas's grip tightened.

Hannah suddenly remembered the empty altar and her mother smiling in the hospital bed.

"Because..." Her voice sounded raspy. Hannah swallowed with difficulty. "Because I genuinely wanted to marry him."

The sentence was not entirely a lie, nor was it entirely the truth.

Gerald stared at her for a long moment, then turned to Lucas. "I need proof that you two are indeed married, not just staging a performance."

Lucas pulled a folder from his suit jacket—a signed marriage certificate.

Gerald read every line, then closed it.

"It is official."

"Yes," Lucas said firmly.

"In that case, you have met the requirement." Gerald handed the folder back. "I will speak with the board."

One corner of Lucas's lips curled upward. "Thank you, Father."

"Don't thank me." Gerald returned to his seat. "We shall see how long this marriage lasts. Or whether you two are truly serious about it!"

Hannah froze where she stood. *Requirement.* She noted the word in her head. Lucas had stepped in as her groom to fulfill a requirement.

"Sit down, you must be tired," Diane said gently, gesturing toward the empty seat beside her. "Hannah, dear? Come over here, child."

There was warmth in that voice. Hannah looked at Diane, who was gazing at her with genuine sincerity.

Hannah nodded subtly, then walked toward the chair next to Diane.

Hannah seated herself there, with Lucas taking the place beside her. Their hands finally parted, but the warmth remained lingering on Hannah's skin.

Dinner proceeded in excruciating silence—the clinking of spoons, Olivia's mocking glares, Daniel's faint smile that never reached his eyes, and Gerald, who did not look at Lucas even once.

Lucas ate in total silence, as though he were long accustomed to it.

Hannah observed him quietly. The man who commanded hundreds of people at the office appeared at this table like a child awaiting punishment.

'What happened to you in this house?' The question surfaced unbidden in Hannah's mind.

**

After dinner concluded, Lucas brought Hannah to his room.

Lucas's room was located on the second floor, at the far end of the corridor.

The moment she stepped inside, Hannah took in her surroundings.

Monochrome wall paint, spacious, immaculate, and far too quiet. A grand bed stood in the center, accompanied by a long sofa near the window. There was a small secondary door inside the room in addition to the bathroom door. No photos. No personal belongings. It resembled a hotel room that merely happened to have a permanent address.

A maid had already placed Hannah's luggage in the corner. Hannah stared at it briefly before quickly turning her face away.

The bedroom door clicked shut. Hannah turned around to face Lucas, who was unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt sleeves.

"How long has it been since you last slept here?" Hannah asked softly.

Lucas folded his sleeves up to his elbows as he answered, "Quite some time."

That was all. No further explanation.

"You take the bed. I'll take the sofa." Those were the next words to slip from Lucas's lips.

Hannah's eyes widened. "We're sharing a room?"

Lucas's gaze shifted to Hannah, his eyes turning firm and cold, just as they were at the office. "They will be suspicious if we don't."

Hannah nodded. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or anxious about being in the same room, even if they weren't sharing a bed.

Lucas stood with his back to her, resting his hands against the frame of the sofa. His shoulders dropped, his breath heavy with a moment of deep exhaustion.

"Thank you," Hannah said, looking at Lucas from behind. "For earlier. When Olivia..."

"It is part of the agreement," Lucas cut in quickly, his tone flat and cold once more.

Hannah swallowed down a surge of disappointment that shouldn't have been there. "Of course."

"Remember the boundaries." Lucas looked straight at her. "In front of them, we are husband and wife. In here, we are merely two people with an agreement. Do not misunderstand this. I will not take advantage of you either."

The words pierced through her, even though Hannah knew they were true.

"I am not misunderstanding anything." Hannah nodded gently. "And thank you for maintaining these boundaries, sir."

"Good." Lucas lay down on the sofa after acknowledging her words.

Hannah climbed into bed without changing her clothes. She lay on her side, facing the wall. The plush mattress was far too soft for her rigid body.

The lights went out.

A few minutes passed. From the sofa, Lucas's breathing sounded uneven. He was still awake.

"Hannah."

Lucas's voice was faint, almost a whisper.

"Yes?"

Silence lingered for a moment.

"Don't believe everything they say about me."

Hannah opened her eyes in the dark, her heart suddenly beating faster.

"Is that part of the agreement as well?" Hannah sought confirmation. She had known Lucas for over five years, so what else could his family possibly say that she shouldn't listen to?

There was no answer, only his breathing slowly evening out.

Hannah stared at the ceiling, the ring on her finger shimmering faintly under the moonlight.

For the first time since morning, she felt two emotions simultaneously: fear, and a quiet sense of curiosity.