It wasn't the gala that unsettled Hana it was the dress.
Laid out on her bed like a silent promise was a custom-made evening gown in midnight blue, with a slit running high up one thigh and a plunging neckline she'd never dare wear under normal circumstances. It was stunning, expensive, and terrifying.
Clara knocked once and entered. "You'll be wearing this tonight. The press will be there, and you're to stay close to Mr. Hartanto at all times."
Hana swallowed. "What if I trip in heels?"
"Don't. Leonard will not tolerate mistakes."
Of course he wouldn't.
Hours later, her reflection in the mirror didn't feel like her at all. Her makeup was professionally done, her hair in soft curls framing her face. The gown hugged her figure like it was tailored by someone who knew every inch of her body.
And perhaps they had.
Leonard met her at the top of the stairs, tuxedo crisp, expression blank. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then a single word:
"Acceptable."
Not beautiful. Not stunning. Just... acceptable.
The car ride was quiet. Hana looked out the window at the passing city lights, while Leonard read emails on his phone, fingers never pausing.
When they arrived at the grand hotel ballroom, flashes from cameras exploded instantly.
"She's with him!"
"Is that the wife?"
"Who is she?"
Leonard offered his arm. Hana hesitated only a second before looping hers through it. The cameras went wilder.
Inside, chandeliers sparkled and classical music played in the background. Business elites, politicians, celebrities. Hana felt like she had stepped into a different world.
"Smile," Leonard said through clenched teeth. "My father's watching."
She did.
Mr. Albert Hartanto, towering and intense, approached with piercing eyes.
"So this is the wife."
Hana bowed politely. "Good evening, sir."
Albert grunted. "Pretty face. Let's hope you have a mind too."
Leonard intervened. "We'll be circulating."
They moved from one group to another. Leonard did all the talking. Hana smiled when needed, nodded when required, and tried not to let her knees shake.
Then it happened.
A champagne glass spilled. Right onto her dress.
"Oops. I'm so sorry," came the insincere voice of Sasha Winata.
Hana froze. So this was the ex-fiancée.
Blonde, tall, and dressed in red, Sasha looked her up and down with disdain.
"You must be Hana. Leonard's... wife."
Leonard stepped in. "Sasha. Excuse yourself."
Sasha's lips curled. "Touchy, aren't we?"
Hana clenched her fists. But she didn't speak. She refused to stoop to drama.
Leonard guided her away. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, teeth gritted. "I'm fine."
"You didn't fight back."
"I don't need to. She's already beneath me."
For the first time, Leonard actually smiled.
They returned home close to midnight. Hana kicked off her heels and headed straight to her room, but Leonard's voice stopped her.
"Wait."
She turned.
He looked... conflicted.
"There's something we need to finalize."
He walked into his study and pulled out another document. Hana stared.
Another contract.
"What now?"
"A non-disclosure agreement. My father wants to ensure you don't speak to the press about our arrangement. You'll need to sign."
Hana approached. Read the terms. Nothing unexpected.
"Do you think I'm a threat to your empire?"
Leonard looked her in the eye. "I think you're unpredictable. That makes you dangerous."
Without hesitation, Hana signed.
"Done."
"One more thing," he said.
She looked up.
Then suddenly, sharply he leaned forward and kissed her.
It wasn't romantic. It wasn't soft. It was calculated.
And it was right in front of the security camera in the corner.
"For the record," he said coolly. "Now there's footage proving we're a couple."
Hana pulled back, her cheeks burning.
"Next time," she said coldly, "warn me before using me for your game."
Leonard didn't reply.
She left, heart racing.
And the door closed behind her with a final, quiet click.