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.