Chapter 1

I'm a total airhead, yet I somehow ended up married to Henry Hawkins—the most aloof, reserved legend among Capaville.

Our marriage was never more than a one-year business arrangement.

As for our intimate life? It was little more than a mandatory monthly obligation we had to check off our list.

When I finally reached my breaking point, I asked for a divorce—and lied straight to his face, claiming I'd already fallen for another man and had been seeing him behind his back for ages.

But that night, right after he'd signed the divorce papers, he blocked my bedroom door. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice hoarse and raspy, like a cornered beast driven to the edge of despair.

"Then tell that guy to back off! Why divorce me? Why do I have to put up with your nonsense?"

I was completely stunned by his outburst, forcing myself to stammer out a reply. "We... we just aren't right for each other."

Before I could blink, he slammed me back against the door, his chest pressing scorching-hot against mine.

His warm breath fanned over my ear as his hand tightened around my waist—exactly like the night before, when he'd acted like it was all just a meaningless routine, though nothing about it had felt routine at all.

"We aren't right for each other?" His voice dropped to a low, gravelly murmur, trembling faintly with every word. "You were definitely loving every second of it last night. So tell me—what exactly makes us so wrong for one another?"

Seriously?

How did my cold, reserved contract husband turn overnight into this clingy, overbearing, borderline unhinged mess?

*****

"Beep—Monthly obligation countdown initiated."

The cold, mechanical female alert echoed inside my head—the signature notification from my notoriously unreliable Spectator Stream System.

I shivered in resignation and dragged myself out of bed, which was buried under a mountain of game project proposals. I glanced at the vintage wall clock.

The hour, minute, and second hands all overlapped perfectly, locked precisely at midnight.

Not a single second off.

Henry, my contractual husband—punctual and precise enough to rival a military chronograph—was about to show up to fulfill his monthly marital duty.

I sighed, kicked off my fuzzy house slippers, and slipped back under the covers, striking what I hoped came across as an alluring pose.

Sure enough, the bedroom door creaked open softly.

Henry stepped inside, clad in a luxurious silk robe expensive enough to drain a small fortune. Even in the dim lamplight, his chiseled features were magazine-cover-perfect—yet his expression was icy, distant, like he was a world away from the moment unfolding between us.

This was Henry Hawkins, the undisputed top dog of Capaville, heading a vast business empire and dubbed the "human cash machine"—and my husband in name, and nothing more.

[Ahhh it's finally here! The monthly premium live show is starting!]

[Girls, stay calm! Don't freak out, Nora! But FR with that face, that physique, and that icy brooding vibe, I'd pay good money just to watch Mr. Hawkins walk into a room!]

[Just walk in? Girl, you're way too naive! Haven't you noticed? Every time he steps inside, his Adam's apple won't stop bobbing! That's not composure—that's nerves! He's barely holding it together!]

[FR! Look how tight he's tying his robe, like he's marching off to face a firing squad. You just know there's a storm raging beneath that stoic exterior!]

I watched the live chat flood across my field of vision, barely holding back an eye twitch.

This Spectator Stream System—visible only to me—was something I'd stumbled upon six months prior. It was linked to an alternate world, where viewers watched my every move as all-knowing spectators and spouted real-time, nonstop commentary.

They lived for tuning in whenever tension flared between Henry and me.

Henry walked to the edge of the bed, towering over my reclined figure. His eyes were deep and unfathomable, giving nothing away of his inner thoughts.

"Ready?" His tone was as frosty as ever, like perpetual snow resting atop a mountain peak.

I nodded, then shocked even myself by reaching out to him.

He froze for a split second, clearly caught off guard by my sudden boldness tonight. The live chat blew up instantly.

[Whoa! Nora's taking charge tonight—straight up making the first move!]

[Mr. Hawkins is shook! He's definitely over here thinking 'Wait, did she catch feelings? Why's she being so forward all of a sudden? How do I play this without looking desperate?']

[LMAO sis, are you reading his mind word for word?]

Henry's gaze lingered on my outstretched hand—long, slender, pale with delicate bone structure, easily the most graceful hand I'd ever seen. He stayed silent for two long seconds before leaning down to me.

No soft kisses, no slow buildup.

It all unfolded like a rigid prearranged ritual—clinical, efficient, completely devoid of warmth or tenderness.

His scorching-hot body pressed against mine, and his signature crisp cedar cologne wrapped around me in an instant. I could feel the raw coiled power in his muscles beneath the robe—taut, burning, every inch radiating unbridled masculine heat.

Yet his demeanor remained every bit as cold and stoic as always.

[The contrast is insane! I'm screaming! His face is all quiet and monk-like but his body's acting like a wild man!]

[Girls, look close! Mr. Hawkins' ears are flushed bright red!]

[And his hands! He's gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles are white! He's fighting tooth and nail to keep his composure, holding himself back so he doesn't lose control!]

[Ugh, he's so head over heels for her and she has zero clue...]

Truth be told, I really had no idea.

To me, this was just another scheduled, contractual tryst—nothing more, nothing less.

Henry needed a wife to fend off his meddling family, and I, the founder of a teetering game studio on the brink of bankruptcy, needed his financial backing. We struck a deal and signed a one-year marriage contract; it was that simple.

The fine print required that we play the perfect loving couple in public—and that included being intimate once a month.

I'd never understood why he'd insisted on such an odd clause, but I'd endured it all to save my game company.

*****

I lost track of time entirely, but eventually, the monthly "obligation" came to an end.

Henry pulled away from me, adjusting his robe back into place with calm precision—like he hadn't been breathing raggedly against my ear mere moments before.

He turned his back and headed straight for the bathroom, tossing out a flat line. "Get some rest."

The bathroom door clicked shut, and the sound of running water filled the room.

I collapsed back onto the bed, drained and worn out like a wrung-out towel.

[Wait, that's it? That's all we get?! Come on, Mr. Hawkins! I was fully invested for this anticlimax?]

[You all don't get it! This is peak self-restraint! He's holding back like crazy just so he doesn't overwhelm Nora!]

[Poor guy, always has to take cold showers to calm down after. He's seriously down bad for her.]

[Nora's so oblivious! How can she not see his feelings are screaming loud and clear?]

I rolled my eyes at the chat, running a hand messily through my hair.

Love?

Please.

Henry lived high above the clouds, untouchable and out of reach. He'd never fall for someone as ordinary and money-driven as me.

I'd had more than enough of this ridiculous contract marriage.

My game studio was finally back on its feet now, with fresh funding secured. I no longer needed to rely on him for anything.

It was time to end this for good.

I climbed out of bed, threw on some casual clothes, walked to the study, and printed out the divorce papers I'd prepared ages ago.

When Henry stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung over his shoulder, I held the papers out to him.

"I want a divorce."

He froze on the spot, towel still slung over his shoulder. When he lifted his head, his eyes still hazy from the steam looked darker, more mysterious than ever.

"Why?" he asked, his voice low.

"Because I've fallen for someone else," I lied, keeping my tone perfectly neutral. "I've been seeing another man for a long time. There's no point dragging this marriage on any longer."

I'd expected him to fly off the handle, sneer at me, or pull those classic ruthless CEO stunts—shoving a stack of cash in my face and throwing me out without a second thought.

But he did none of that.

He just stared at me, and something raw and fragile inside his heart shattered little by little. The air grew thick and suffocating, leaving me barely able to breathe.

After what felt like an eternity, Henry finally spoke—his voice rough, broken and almost unrecognizable.

"All that boldness from you tonight... was it all for him?"