Sarah barely slept that night.
Her new room was larger than her entire house back home — a king-sized bed, silk curtains, and a balcony that overlooked a city glittering like distant stars. But luxury meant little when her thoughts were loud.
A marriage contract.
The words echoed over and over.
Why her?
Why a writer from nowhere?
At dawn, a soft knock came at her door.
A maid entered with a gentle bow.
"Ms. Sarah, sir requested that you dress for breakfast. The family will be present."
The family.
Her stomach tightened.
This wasn't just breakfast — this was a presentation.
She chose a simple cream-colored dress from the wardrobe and followed the maid downstairs.
The dining hall was warm with quiet conversations and silver cutlery glimmering under golden chandeliers.
At the head of the table sat an elder man — tall, stern, dignified. Adam's grandfather.
Adam stood beside him, hands in his pockets, composed as always.
"Grandfather," Adam said, his tone steady. "This is Sarah Paul."
The old man studied her carefully. Not her clothes. Not her appearance.
Her eyes — evaluating her sincerity.
"So you're the girl," he said at last. "The one he chose."
Chose?
The word hit differently.
"Welcome to the King family," the grandfather continued. "I hope my grandson has not frightened you with his… directness."
Adam's jaw shifted slightly — a silent acknowledgment.
Sarah bowed her head.
"Thank you, sir. I'm grateful for the opportunity to—"
"To survive," the old man finished — not harshly, but truthfully.
Her breath caught.
He saw everything.
---
After breakfast, Adam walked beside her through the garden.
Rose vines curled around marble pillars, fountains shimmered in the morning sunlight.
But Sarah couldn't enjoy any of it.
She finally stopped and faced him.
"Why me?"
Adam paused.
The breeze brushed through his hair.
His eyes no longer looked dangerous — just tired.
"Because," he said quietly, "I needed someone who does not want my money, or my name, or my power."
Her heart stilled.
"And what do you want from me?" she whispered.
His answer came soft. Almost too soft.
"Honesty."
Silence settled between them — delicate and unspoken.
---
A sharp voice broke it.
"Oh? So she's the new wife?"
A woman approached — tall, elegant, with striking red lipstick and a perfectly practiced smile that held no warmth.
Her heels clicked like warnings.
"Clara didn't mention she was so… plain," she said.
Sarah's fingers curled against her dress, but she didn't lower her gaze.
Adam's expression hardened.
"Evelyn. That's enough."
Evelyn stepped closer to Sarah, her voice smooth, sweet, and poisonous.
"Don't worry," she murmured. "Contracts end. And so do temporary wives."
Sarah didn't react.
But something inside her — something quiet and determined — began to shift.
She had signed nothing yet.
Yet she was already being challenged.
And she was not planning to lose.
The afternoon sky pulsed with the sound of rotating blades.
Sarah shielded her eyes as a sleek matte-black helicopter descended into the private garden. The wind rippled through the trees, scattering petals across the marble pathway.
Adam exhaled — a quiet, resigned sigh.
"My mother," he murmured.
The helicopter door opened.
A woman stepped out — tall, graceful, dressed in an ivory designer coat and elegant heels that somehow did not sink into the grass. Her hair was soft blonde, styled perfectly, and her smile held warmth that filled the space instantly.
"Adam! Sarah!" she called happily, waving as if they were the only two people in the world.
She walked straight to Sarah and pressed a velvet gift box into her hands.
"My beautiful daughter-in-law," she said, voice glowing with affection. "This will help you get pregnant soon."
Sarah's fingers almost slipped. Adam's ears went red instantly. Even the gardener froze mid-step.
"Mother—" Adam began.
She patted his shoulder lightly, not bothering to listen.
Then she turned to Sarah, her tone softer, gentle but clear:
"Listen, dear. Marriage in this family comes with eyes watching. People will talk… people will gossip. Don't take this lightly. The world won't."
Sarah's breath caught — not out of fear, but because the woman cared enough to warn her.
"And," she added, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "be cautious of Evelyn. Adam's elder sister. She's… a hurricane wearing heels."
Sarah blinked. That explained a lot.
Adam's mother clasped her hands together suddenly, bright again.
"Now, Adam King—"
Her voice sharpened just a touch.
"Do not order your wife around. Spend time with her. Preferably in bed."
"Mother."
Adam's voice cracked.
Fully, undeniably flustered.
Sarah felt her heart stutter — his embarrassment was unexpectedly… adorable.
She tried so hard not to blush.
She failed.
"Alright, my loves," his mother said, stepping back toward the helicopter. "I'll be back next week. I expect good news."
She tapped Sarah's cheek affectionately.
"And don't worry, sweetheart. I'll send you the very best prenatal supplements. You'll be healthy, the baby will be strong, everything will be perfect."
With one elegant wave, she boarded the helicopter.
The rotor blades lifted again, and she was gone — like a whirlwind that left warmth in her wake.
Silence settled.
Adam dragged one hand over his face.
"…Mother."
Sarah turned to escape — to her room, anywhere — before her blush exploded.
But Adam reached for her.
Not harshly.
Not to control.
Just… to keep her close.
She looked up.
His expression — for the first time — was unguarded.
Soft.
Warm.
Real.
He pulled her to him and kissed her — slow but sure, like something he had held back far too long.
From the upstairs balcony, his grandfather paused mid-step. His brows lifted — surprised — then softened into a smile.
Beside him, Evelyn stood rigid, jaw clenched.
"So he found someone who can reach him," she muttered, voice tight.
Grandfather didn't look at her.
"Yes," he said quietly. "And she is an ordinary girl."
Evelyn's lips curled.
"Exactly."
But the old man only smiled deeper.
"That," he whispered, "is what makes it unforgettable."