Chapter 3
[Here we go! The classic contract marriage trope—marry first, fall hard later!]
[Marry first? Please, this man's been pining for her for years—this is just his way to lock her down. Secret crush activated, full force!]
[Say yes! Just say YES! 200 million for a one-year marriage? That's the deal of a lifetime—you'd be crazy to turn it down!]
Between the chaotic cheers from the Spectator Stream System and the staggering 200-million-dollar sum dangling in front of me, my head nodded on its own before my brain could process the decision.
Just like that, Henry Hawkins and I—two strangers from completely different worlds, who never should have crossed paths—signed the marriage papers and became a contract couple.
I moved into his sleek, lavish downtown penthouse, with a private bedroom and a fully equipped game studio workspace all to myself. It was more than I'd ever dared to dream of.
Our married life? Polite, distant, icy civility at all times—we treated each other with the formal respect of two business partners, nothing more.
Outside of that monthly, rigidly scheduled marital obligation, we barely exchanged more than a handful of words.
He left before dawn and returned late at night, buried in the work of his global empire; I threw myself into my game development, fighting tooth and nail to build my dream.
I'd always assumed he'd married me solely to silence his pushy family's constant nagging about settling down, or maybe it was just a whimsical, expensive distraction for a bored billionaire.
I'd convinced myself our entire relationship was nothing but cold, hard cash and a legally binding contract—no feelings, no attachment, nothing real.
That was, until today. Until I handed him those divorce papers and walked away from it all.
*****
With the end of the standoff, the air in the study was so thick with tension, it felt like it could shatter with a single breath.
Henry's question cut right through my half-baked lie, piercing my flimsy defenses like a knife.
"So... that boldness of yours tonight... was it all for him?"
His voice was quiet, almost fragile—but it hit me like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind right out of me.
My mouth fell open, but no words came out. My throat felt tight, clamped shut by a mix of guilt and shock, leaving me completely tongue-tied.
[Damn, this is the drama I signed up for! The messy, emotional showdown I've been waiting for!]
[Nora, hurry up and answer! Yes or no? This suspense is gonna kill me, I swear!]
[No way in hell! Girl, just tell him he's the only one—stop playing with his heart!]
[Mr. Hawkins looks absolutely crushed... his eyes are bloodshot, he's this close to breaking down. My heart's breaking for him.]
I met his gaze, and sure enough—those once-cold, unshakable eyes were now glassy and lost, like a deer in the headlights, raw and vulnerable in a way I'd never seen before.
Out of nowhere, a sharp, unexpected ache twisted in my chest—a twinge of guilt I hadn't seen coming.
"No... it's not like that," I blurted out, the denial slipping past my lips before I could stop it, my voice shaky and unconvincing.
He lunged forward like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline, his hand wrapping around my wrist with a strength that surprised me—firm, desperate, like he was afraid I'd slip away if he let go.
"Then what is it?" he pressed, his breath hot against my cheek, his voice thick with urgency. "Why do you want a divorce? What did I do wrong? Tell me—please."
His intensity was overwhelming, pushing me back step by step until my shoulders hit the cold, solid bookshelf behind me, the hard wood digging into my skin.
"You... you're perfect," I managed to stammer, the words catching in my throat. "It's me—I'm just not good enough for you. That's all."
"Not good enough?" He let out a bitter, humorless laugh, a sound that cut through the air like shards of glass, as if I'd just told the most ridiculous joke in the world.
"Nora, do you really think I'm that shallow? That I'd marry you for anything less than you?"
His hand slid from my wrist up to my face, his fingers cool against my skin as he gently but firmly tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes—eyes that were brimming with pain and confusion.
His fingertips were icy, but his palm, pressed against my cheek, was burning hot—a stark contrast that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Tell me the truth," Henry insisted, his voice trembling now, raw with unmasked desperation and humility. "Was it me? Did I hurt you... in any way?"