Austin Farley paused. His long fingers idly traced the face of his watch, his expression unreadable.
Eva Sullivan blinked, her gaze drawn to his face as she waited for an answer. It was a dangerous habit—his features were so striking that one look often turned into a stare.
As if sensing her scrutiny, his lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible arc. His voice was flat, void of emotion. "You need not feel burdened, Miss Sullivan. This is merely a cooperation."
Eva froze. "Cooperation?"
She couldn't fathom what she possessed that was worth scheming for.
The Mason family business was stable, and she had navigated Seaview City's social circles well enough, but they were nothing compared to the Farleys. The Farleys were top-tier old money, a dynasty that rarely deigned to show its face in public. Next to them, the second-generation heirs she knew—the ones who spent their days chasing neon lights and nightlife—were irrelevant.
And Austin Farley, the head of that dynasty, was a figure who usually existed only in rumors.
What could a man like that possibly want from her?
Austin nodded, his pitch-black eyes calm and rippleless. "I require a wife."
Silence stretched between them.
Eva stared at him. That explains absolutely nothing.
In the lobby of the Civil Affairs Bureau, bright red slogans scrolled across the LED screens in an endless loop. Less than twenty minutes later, a fresh, warm marriage certificate was pressed into Eva's hands.
Outside, the sun blazed. Dappled shadows danced across the red booklet in her grip. For reasons she couldn't explain, the tension in her shoulders released.
It was strange. She felt safer with this stranger than she had in years.
Austin descended the stairs and stopped beside her. The noon sunlight softened the hard planes of his face, dyeing his dark eyes with a warm luster that momentarily neutralized his cold aura.
"My flight to Harbor City leaves at two. My return date is indefinite." He checked his watch. "My assistant will see you home."
Eva looked up at him blankly. For a split second, she had the illusion of a boyfriend checking in with his girlfriend.
"Okay."
She watched his tall, imposing figure disappear into a waiting car before lowering her gaze to the certificate. She flipped it open. Their photos sat side by side.
Handsome man, beautiful woman. On paper, they looked like a perfect match.
Before the irony could fully set in, a woman in professional attire approached. She adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses and offered a practiced smile.
"Hello, Ma'am. I'm Grace Simmons, Mr. Farley's assistant."
Grace had neat short hair and radiated capability. She had a disarming presence, the kind that made people lower their guard without realizing it.
Austin doesn't hire fools, Eva noted.
On the drive, Eva watched the scenery change. The streets were becoming increasingly unfamiliar.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
Austin had said his assistant would take her home, but this was definitely not the route to the Mason estate.
Grace kept her eyes on the road, her expression unruffled. "Mr. Farley has purchased the Harbor Villa on the Coastal Highway as your marital residence. We're heading there now."
Coastal Highway. Harbor Villa.
It was the most exclusive district in Seaview City, where every inch of land was worth a fortune. Even the air there seemed to come with a price tag.
As the massive iron gates slid open, Eva suddenly thought of Elliot.
Back then, he had tried to buy a property here. He had pulled every string he had, but couldn't even get past the screening process. She still remembered the look on his face when the agent told him his status didn't meet the requirements—furious, his ego bruised, yet forced to maintain a polite facade.
Interesting, she thought, cold satisfaction settling in her chest.
The car glided to a stop. Grace exited and opened the door for Eva, her tone businesslike.
"Mr. Farley set the door code as your birthday. Here's my card. If you need anything, feel free to call me anytime."
After the assistant left, Eva stood under the porch, staring at the high-end electronic lock.
Why is the password my birthday?
And how did Austin know my birthday?
She punched in the numbers. The lock clicked, and the door swung open.
Right. A man like Austin Farley wouldn't marry blindly. He probably had a file on her ancestry going back eighteen generations sitting in his office drawer.
The villa's interior was minimalist—cold but expensive. The kitchen and dining room were fully stocked. In the walk-in closet, men's and women's clothing hung in neat rows, all the latest seasonal styles.
Eva collapsed onto the large, soft bed. She had intended to nap, but the moment her eyes closed, her phone buzzed.
An unfamiliar number.
She hesitated, then declined the call.
A second later, the phone rang again, stubborn and demanding.
Eva frowned and swiped to answer.
"Where are you? We need to talk."
Even without a contact name, the voice was unmistakable. Elliot.
Without a word, she hung up.
She had decided to start a new life. That meant throwing the trash from her past far, far away. She rolled over, pulling the duvet up, but the phone dinged with a message.
You wouldn't want me to go find your uncle and aunt for a little chat, would you?
Eva's blood ran cold. Her fingers hovered over the screen as another message popped up: Answer the phone!
She dialed him back. Elliot answered immediately, his tone slightly less aggressive now that he had her attention.
"Where are you? I'll come pick you up."
"I thought I made myself clear last time," Eva said, her voice icy. "From now on, let's not contact each other. Okay?"
Silence on the other end. She could practically hear him suppressing his rage.
For eight years, Eva had been at his beck and call. She came when he whistled and left when he dismissed her. In his mind, he was giving her a chance, yet she dared to put on airs.
"Eva, are you serious?"
Eva's lips curled. "Do I sound like I'm joking?"
Elliot slammed the phone down.
Eva didn't hesitate. She added the number to her blacklist instantly.
She looked up. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, dark, heavy clouds were massing over the ocean. The water was turbulent, churning gray and black.
A storm was coming.
Eva took a deep breath, the weight of those absurd eight years pressing down on her. Eight years of being humble, of grinding her dignity into the dust for a man who didn't care.
She couldn't let Elliot poison her family. To stop him from harassing her uncle and aunt, she called a taxi and headed for the Mason residence.
Thirty minutes later, the taxi pulled up to the Mason villa. Muffled thunder rolled in the distance, and the sky opened up. Rain fell in sheets, bean-sized drops cracking against the car windows.
Eva's heart sank. Chaotic memories flashed through her mind, synchronized with the storm.
She paid the driver and pushed the door open.
The deluge drenched her instantly. She lowered her head and ran toward the villa gate. But before she could reach shelter, a hand clamped around her wrist like an iron shackle and yanked her violently into a hard embrace.
