Married To The Billionaire At First Sight

October in Toronto was supposed to be cool.

Instead, the heat pressed down like a bad mood that refused to leave-only retreating briefly at dawn and after nightfall.

Chloe Bishop woke before sunrise.

She cooked breakfast for three people, picked up toys scattered like landmines across the living room, and mopped the floors until they gleamed. When everything was done, she grabbed two steamed buns, slipped her household registration booklet into her bag, and quietly closed the door behind her.

She left without waking anyone.

Because last night's argument still rang in her ears.

"We're splitting everything fifty-fifty from now on! Living expenses, mortgage, car loan-all of it! And your sister lives here, so she pays half too! Two thousand dollars a month? That's basically freeloading!"

Her brother-in-law's voice had been sharp. Cutting.

Chloe had stood outside the bedroom, frozen, listening.

She understood then-if she stayed, her sister's marriage would crack.

So she had to leave.

But leaving wasn't enough. If she moved out alone, her sister would worry. Feel guilty. Keep trying to help.

There was only one clean solution.

Marriage.

Absurd, maybe. Desperate, definitely.

She didn't even have a boyfriend.

But as Chloe stepped onto the bus heading toward the Civil Affairs Bureau, she remembered Grandma Jones.

And the proposal that had sounded ridiculous at the time.

Marry my eldest grandson.

The bus doors shut with a hiss.

Twenty minutes later, Chloe stepped onto the sidewalk.

The Civil Affairs Bureau stood quietly ahead.

"Chloe!"

She turned.

Grandma Jones waved enthusiastically, standing beside a tall man with a cold, intimidating presence. His posture was straight, his expression sharp, his aura screaming keep your distance.

So this was him.

David Jones.

Chloe blinked.

This... was not what she had imagined.

According to Grandma Jones, her grandson was thirty, hopelessly single, and socially awkward enough to scare women away. An executive with money-but no wife.

Chloe had assumed he was ugly.

Painfully ugly.

Because if a rich man couldn't find a girlfriend, there were usually only two reasons: extreme pickiness... or an unbearable face.

She had bet on the face.

She lost.

David Jones was strikingly handsome-cold eyes, defined features, the kind of man who made people straighten their backs unconsciously. Standing there in silence, he looked untouchable.

And dangerous-for her peace of mind.

A black BMW was parked nearby.

Seeing the familiar, modest logo, Chloe relaxed slightly. At least he wasn't absurdly rich. The gap between them wouldn't be terrifying.

She wasn't poor, either.

Living with her sister wasn't about money-it was about family.

She co-owned a bookstore near Toronto Middle School, a massive institution with nearly ten thousand students. The profits were steady, competitive, and generous. Add her online sales of handmade crafts, and Chloe earned over twenty thousand dollars a month.

More than enough.

Her brother-in-law didn't know that.

He thought her business barely survived.

He didn't know the five thousand dollars she handed over every month more than covered her stay. Or that she secretly asked her sister to save half of it.

"Chloe," Grandma Jones said happily, tugging her back to the present. "This is my eldest grandson, David. Thirty years old. A leftover man-but reliable! Cold face, warm heart. I wouldn't dare sell you a faulty product."

David didn't react.

Clearly immune.

Chloe smiled politely, cheeks warming. "Hello, Grandma Jones."

Then she turned and extended her hand. "Mr. Jones. I'm Chloe."

David's gaze swept over her-calm, assessing, distant.

Only after his grandmother coughed pointedly did he shake her hand.

Brief. Firm.

"David," he said.

Then, checking his watch, he added flatly, "I'm short on time. Let's keep this efficient."

"...Okay."

"Go, go!" Grandma Jones urged. "Register first. I'll wait here."

"It's hot," David said, already guiding her toward the car. "Wait inside."

The old woman grumbled but obeyed.

Chloe watched him open the door for her, careful, precise.

Cold-but considerate, she thought.

Good enough.

This wasn't about romance.

It was about solving problems.

A house with no mortgage. A legal marriage. Separate lives under one roof.

Roommates-for life.

David returned. "Let's go."

Inside the Civil Affairs Bureau, the air was cool and sterile.

At the counter, David suddenly stopped.

"Miss Bishop," he said, looking at her seriously, "you can still walk away. Ignore my grandmother. Marriage isn't something to joke about."

He hoped-irrationally-that she would say no.

He didn't want this.

Not with a stranger.

Not like this.

Chloe met his gaze without hesitation.

"I've thought it through," she said calmly. "Once I decide something, I don't regret it."

Her words landed quietly.

But there was no turning back now.