Chapter 2
Let's rewind six months.
"Mr. Hawkins, this is the pitch deck for our team's brand-new immersive action-fantasy game, Blades of Destiny.
"We've built a one-of-a-kind Living Realm System—every NPC has their own ambitions, rivalries, and unique life arcs, and every single choice a player makes ripples across the entire game world with real, irreversible butterfly effects..."
Inside the top-floor executive office of Hawkins Corporation, I poured every ounce of passion into the most critical pitch of my life, staring across a massive, solid walnut executive desk at the man who held my startup's fate in his hands—Henry Hawkins.
That day, he wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, gold-rimmed glasses framing eyes that were calm yet piercing—sharp as a hawk zeroing in on its target.
He didn't say a word, just watched me quietly, flipping slowly through the thick proposal in his long, graceful fingers.
The office was dead silent, so still that only my shaky voice and the soft rustle of paper cut through the heavy air.
My palms were soaked with sweat, my back sticking to my blouse from nervous dampness. I could barely breathe under the weight of his unwavering gaze.
[Ahhh, the iconic first meeting! Nora was so awkward and wide-eyed back then, total newbie energy!]
[Look at Mr. Hawkins! He's acting all calm and collected on the surface, but his leg's bouncing a mile a minute under that desk—total dead giveaway! LMAO!]
[His glasses! He's adjusted the frames, like, twenty times already! That's classic nervous tension and hidden obsession, I'd bet my entire wallet on it!]
[Forget the game pitch—he's not even looking at the papers! His eyes are glued to her, like he's been waiting for this moment his whole life!]
I couldn't see a single one of those chat messages, trapped in my own panicked headspace.
All I could register was Henry's overwhelming presence—thick, suffocating, impossible to ignore.
Finally, I wrapped up my pitch, my throat dry, holding my breath as I waited for his judgment, my future hanging in the balance.
He closed the proposal with a soft snap, his long fingers tapping a slow, steady rhythm against the desk—each tap echoing in the silence, thudding against my racing heart like a drum.
"Your game concept is surprisingly innovative," he said at last, his voice cold and smooth, devoid of warmth. "But the development budget is astronomical—far too risky for a fledgling studio."
My heart plummeted to my stomach, all hope draining away in an instant.
"Mr. Hawkins, if we secure the seed funding, we're confident we can hit profitability within twelve months—" I rambled desperately, scrambling to save my life's work.
"Why should I take that risk on you?" he cut me off sharply, leaning forward slightly. His dominant, unyielding aura crashed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me frozen.
"Because..." I gritted my teeth, throwing all caution to the wind, speaking from the heart. "This game isn't just a project to me—it's my entire dream. I'll pour everything I have into making it work."
He held my gaze, and for a split second, a flicker of something unreadable flashed across his icy features—soft, almost tender, gone before I could be sure I'd seen it.
After a long, torturous pause, he did something I never expected. He smiled.
It was the first time I'd ever seen him smile—faint, subtle, like the first faint crack of sunlight through winter frost, but so breathtakingly beautiful that everything else in the room faded to a blur.
[He smiled! He actually smiled! Our girl's raw honesty broke through his cold exterior!]
[Broke through? Please, this was never a wall—he's been plotting this since the second she walked in. Rookie, you just walked right into his trap.]
[Total long-game move, no doubt about it!]
"How much is that dream of yours worth?" he asked, the faint smile still playing at the corner of his mouth, his tone low and deliberate.
"Two hundred million dollars," I blurted out, the number slipping out before I could second-guess it.
His smile widened, sharp and knowing, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Very well. I'll fund you."
I froze completely, convinced I'd misheard him, my brain short-circuiting from shock. This couldn't be real.
"But I have one non-negotiable condition," he added instantly, his tone dropping, the faint warmth vanishing in an instant, back to his usual cold composure.
"What is it?" I asked breathlessly, clinging to the lifeline he'd thrown me.
"Marry me." He paused, his dark eyes pinning me in place. "For one year."
I stood there, utterly dumbfounded, my mind going completely blank.
Marry him?
What kind of insane, out-of-left-field twist was this?
I stared at his impassive, serious face, scanning for any hint of a joke, any flicker of teasing—but there was nothing.
No smile, no sarcasm, nothing to suggest he wasn't deadly serious.