Morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows.
For the first time since the scandal began, the house felt calm.
The official statement had been released at dawn.
The accusations were proven fabricated.Internal sabotage exposed.Public apology issued.
Sophia's name was never mentioned.
But she was finished.
Amelia stood in the study, staring at the original contract placed neatly on the desk.
One year.
Sixteen clauses.
Signatures at the bottom.
It looked so simple on paper.
So clean.
So controlled.
Footsteps entered behind her.
"You're up early," Alexander said quietly.
She didn't turn around.
"I was thinking."
"That's dangerous."
A small smile tugged at her lips.
She picked up the contract.
"This was supposed to protect you."
"It did."
"No," she whispered. "It protected your reputation. Not you."
He walked closer.
"And what protects me?"
She finally faced him.
"Nothing," she said softly. "You don't let anything."
He studied her carefully.
There was no tension in the room today.
No fight.
No storm.
Just something steady.
She placed the contract back on the desk.
"When this started," she said, "I told myself it was temporary. That I wouldn't feel anything."
His expression didn't change.
But his focus sharpened.
"And now?" he asked quietly.
She took a breath.
Slow.
Brave.
"Now I wake up and look for you first."
His chest rose slightly.
"I listen for your footsteps."
Silence.
"And when they accused me…" her voice wavered slightly, "I wasn't scared of losing the marriage."
He stepped closer.
"I was scared of losing you."
There it was.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
But real.
His jaw tightened slightly — not in anger.
In emotion.
He reached out and gently took the contract from the desk.
Held it between them.
"This was never about marriage," he said softly.
"No?"
"It was about control."
He looked down at the paper.
"I built my entire life on contracts."
She stepped closer.
"And this one?"
His eyes lifted to hers.
"This one is the first thing I don't want to control."
Her heart beat faster.
He slowly tore the contract in half.
The sound was quiet.
But final.
He dropped the pieces onto the desk.
"No more expiration date," he said.
"No more clauses."
Her breath caught.
"And if I disappoint you?" she asked softly.
"You will."
She blinked.
"And if I lose control?"
"You will."
"And if this becomes messy?"
He stepped forward until there was no space left between them.
"It will."
His hand came to rest at her waist.
Not commanding.
Not possessive.
Steady.
"But it will be ours."
Her eyes shimmered.
"You don't make promises lightly."
"I don't."
"Then don't make one unless you mean it."
He lifted his hand to her cheek.
His thumb brushed softly beneath her eye.
"I don't want you for a year, Amelia."
Her heart stopped.
"I don't want you for appearances."
His voice dropped.
"I don't want you because you challenged me."
She could barely breathe now.
"I want you," he said quietly, "because somewhere between protecting you and arguing with you… I fell in love with you."
Silence.
Soft.
Sacred.
Her hands trembled slightly as they gripped his shirt.
"You don't say things like that unless you're certain."
"I've never been more certain."
The vulnerability in his eyes was undeniable.
No billionaire shield.
No strategist.
Just a man who had finally let someone in.
She smiled through tears.
"You're terrible at romantic speeches."
A faint, rare laugh escaped him.
"I know."
She stepped closer.
"If we do this… it won't be easy."
"I don't need easy."
"And I won't obey you."
"I don't want obedience."
"And I won't sign anything."
"I prefer your stubbornness."
She swallowed.
Then whispered the words she almost said the night before.
"I love you."
This time, nothing interrupted them.
His forehead rested against hers.
"I love you too."
No hesitation.
No pause.
No contract.
He kissed her slowly.
Not urgent.
Not desperate.
Just sure.
When they pulled apart, she glanced at the torn contract on the desk.
"What happens now?" she asked softly.
He brushed his thumb over her knuckles.
"Now we build something without terms."
She smiled.
"Without expiration."
"Without exit clauses."
She leaned into him.
And for the first time since this began—
There were no conditions.
No strategy.
No timelines.
Just two people who had accidentally signed a contract…
And chosen love instead.