The cursor blinked on my screen, mocking my hesitation. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, paralyzed.
Five years ago, Jonathan Gilbert was a nobody living in a damp basement, surviving on instant noodles. But his eyes—God, his eyes—had burned with such intensity.
"I'm going to make it, Joanna. I have to."
I had loved that fire. Believed in the future he painted for us.
But my father had shaken his head, unimpressed. "When he looks at you, daughter, he sees a stepping stone, not a soulmate. That is ambition, not love."
I refused to listen. Proud. Arrogant in my devotion. "You don't know him. I can judge a man's character on my own."
My father had remained silent for a long time before laying down the gauntlet.
"Then let's make a wager. You will hide your identity and stay by his side for five years as he builds his empire. If, after five years, he still treats you with sincerity and honor, I will not only bless the union but fully fund his global expansion."
"And if he changes?"
"Then you come home. You inherit the family business, and you never lose your head over a man again."
I had agreed instantly.
Five years seemed like plenty of time for passion to settle into deep, unshakeable trust.
I never expected that time wouldn't verify his sincerity—it would only prove that hearts are fickle things.
Finally, I typed a single line.
*After the gala tonight, I'll give you my answer.*
My father's reply was instantaneous.
*Whatever the answer, Dad is here.*
A sudden sting pricked my eyes. I rubbed them harshly, composing myself before heading toward the administrative wing.
There was still a mountain of details to finalize for the gala.
Jonathan wouldn't touch this grunt work. His role was to stand in the spotlight, deliver the visionary speech, and accept the adulation.
The chaotic reality behind the applause had always been my burden to bear.
Hushed voices drifted out as I passed the pantry.
"Did you hear? There's a massive special year-end bonus this time!"
"It has to be for Director Kaufman, right? She's worked herself to the bone for this company..."
"I wouldn't bet on it. Yesterday, I saw Mr. Gilbert escorting Anna Pruitt into a high-end jewelry store."
"What? But Anna's only been here three months!"
"Her uncle is the lead investor. Do the math..."
The gossip died the instant I pushed the door open.
Three junior assistants jumped, their faces draining of color. "Director Kaufman..."
"Is the inventory checklist complete?" My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as I walked to the machine and brewed a black coffee.
"Not... not yet."
"Then you have time to gossip?" I turned, pinning them with a cold stare.
"I want the confirmation email for all materials and the rehearsal sign-offs in my inbox before 7:00 PM. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Director!"
They scrambled out like frightened mice.
Clutching the warm mug, I stood by the window, watching the stream of traffic below.
Five years ago, this district was a wasteland.
Jonathan and I had huddled in that basement, sharing a single cup of noodles because we couldn't afford two.
I remembered the night he fashioned a ring out of a soda can pull-tab. He had slid it onto my finger with trembling hands.
"When we go public," he had whispered, the dim bulb reflecting in his fervent eyes, "I'll replace this with the real thing. A diamond. The biggest one money can buy."
I had smiled and nodded, but truthfully, I loved that jagged piece of aluminum.
Because back then, I was the only thing in his universe.
My phone buzzed, shattering the memory.
Jonathan: *Dinner with investors tonight. Go home without me. Don't wait up.*
I stared at the text until my coffee turned ice cold.
*Okay.*
The night of the gala, the banquet hall was a kaleidoscope of crystal and light.
I stood near the entrance, clipboard in hand, running the final security sweep.
Then the doors opened.
Anna Pruitt glided in wearing a custom silver haute couture gown that clung to her like liquid moonlight. She walked straight toward Jonathan, who was holding court in the center of the room.
"Jonathan." Her voice was a bell, clear and bright, drawing every eye in the room. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting."
Jonathan's face lit up—a genuine spark I hadn't seen in months. "Right on time."
He offered his arm.
Anna looped hers through it, and they stood there, shoulder to shoulder.
A perfect, golden couple.
