Adrian's Pov

"Keep your head up."

That's what Soren said right before we stepped out of the car and into a sea of flashing lights.

The noise hit me first, shutters clicking, voices shouting my name, questions flying like bullets. I froze for half a second before his hand brushed against mine. It wasn't a touch, not really, just a small, grounding reminder that I wasn't walking into this alone.

Except... I was.

Because this was Soren Knight's world, not mine. The marble steps, the cameras, the expensive suits, it all belonged to him. I was just the headline that wouldn't go away.

He walked ahead, straight-backed and calm, his face carved from stone. I followed half a step behind, doing my best to look like I belonged beside him.

We reached the podium. A dozen microphones waited, red lights blinking like warning signs. The room fell into a heavy silence.

Soren adjusted his tie, then leaned forward. "Good afternoon," he began, his voice smooth and cold, every syllable controlled. "I know there's been speculation about my marriage and about my relationship with Celeste Moreau. I'll make this clear once...."

"Did you cheat on her?" a reporter yelled. "Was this marriage to Adrian Vega part of a cover-up?"

Soren didn't even blink. "No. My marriage to Adrian Vega was impulsive, yes. But it's real. And it's private."

Real. The word hit me like a slap.

Everyone turned their cameras toward me. I felt the heat of a hundred stares. Some curious, some cruel.

"Mr. Vega," another reporter said sharply, "what do you say to accusations that you targeted Mr. Knight for his money?"

I swallowed hard. "I didn't......."

"Did he pay you?" another shouted. "Are you in this for the publicity?"

The room buzzed louder, questions blurring together. I opened my mouth again, but Soren's hand rested on my arm, stopping me.

"That's enough," he said firmly. His voice carried authority, the kind that silenced a room.

But it didn't stop what came next.

The doors at the back opened. I didn't need to turn to know who it was. The sharp click of heels was enough.

Celeste Moreau.

She moved like she owned the air. Her white suit was pristine, her hair gleaming under the lights, her expression heartbreak carved into perfection.

"I'm sorry for the interruption," she said sweetly, though her eyes were knives. "But the public deserves the truth."

Soren's shoulders stiffened. "Celeste, this isn't your platform......"

"Oh, but it is." She turned to the cameras, voice trembling just enough. "I loved Soren Knight. We were engaged. Until I discovered his affair with Adrian Vega."

Gasps rippled through the room.

I felt my chest tighten. "That's a lie."

Celeste's lips curved. "Really? Then maybe you'd like to explain this."

She pulled out a sleek tablet and lifted it so everyone could see the video playing. My stomach dropped.

It was footage from the Vegas chapel, me and Soren laughing, slurring, stumbling toward the altar. My voice rang out, loud and drunk: "Come on, Mr. Knight. Scared to marry me?"

The crowd erupted. Cameras flashed like lightning.

I couldn't breathe.

Celeste's voice cut through the chaos. "He trapped Soren into this marriage for money. For fame. And now he's ruining everything Soren's father built."

The reporters shouted again, all at once. "Mr. Vega! Did you seduce him for his money?" "Mr. Knight, are you being blackmailed?"

Soren's face was unreadable, his jaw tight, his hand still gripping the podium.

I wanted to speak. I wanted to scream that it wasn't true. That none of it was planned. But the words stuck in my throat.

"Enough!" Soren's voice thundered through the room, silencing everything. "This press conference is over."

He turned sharply, grabbing my wrist. "We're leaving."

He pulled me through the crowd, ignoring the flashes, the shouting, the chaos. I stumbled after him, blinking against the lights. My heart felt like it was being crushed in my chest.

By the time we reached the car, my pulse was a drum.

He didn't speak. Neither did I. The car door slammed shut, trapping us in heavy silence.

"Adrian," he said finally, voice low. "Don't believe a word she said."

I laughed bitterly. "You think anyone else won't?"

His jaw twitched. "This is what she does. She manipulates, she twists....."

"She showed proof, Soren! Video proof! Do you realize how that looks?"

He turned to me, eyes burning. "I don't care how it looks."

"Well, I do!" I snapped. "Because it's my name being dragged through hell. My mom's crying herself sick. Everyone thinks I used you. Do you even care about that?"

His silence was answer enough.

I stared at him. "You don't, do you? You just care about control. About winning."

"That's not true."

"Then tell me what this is," I said quietly. "Tell me what I am to you."

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

I shook my head. "You can't even say it."

I turned toward the window, my chest tight, my throat burning. The city blurred by in streaks of light.

When we reached the penthouse, I got out before he could open his door. I didn't look back as I slammed it shut behind me.

The elevator ride felt endless. When the doors opened, the quiet of the apartment almost hurt.

I walked straight to my room, but stopped halfway. My phone was buzzing. Dozens of missed calls. Dozens of messages.

And one new text. From an unknown number.

He's lying to you, Adrian. Meet me if you want the truth.

Below it was an address.

My stomach twisted. I knew that tone. That manipulation. It had to be Nathan Cross, the man who'd smirked through every scandal and smiled like a vulture.

I should've deleted it. I should've ignored it. But I needed answers.

Because Soren wouldn't give me any.

The place was an abandoned restaurant near downtown, windows covered, lights dim. I stepped inside slowly.

Nathan was already waiting, sitting at a table like he owned the shadows.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his smile sharp. "But I'm glad you came."

"What do you want?" I asked.

He gestured to the chair opposite him. "I want to help you. You deserve to know who you married."

"I already know," I said.

He laughed softly. "Do you?"

He slid a thin folder across the table. I stared at it, hesitant.

"Inside," he said smoothly, "are contracts, emails, payments-proof that Soren's marriage to you wasn't just a scandal. It was his strategy. He used you to sabotage Celeste's deal, to provoke Victor, and to secure full control of his shares. You were never his mistake, Adrian. You were his weapon."

I froze. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" He leaned forward. "You think a man like Soren does anything without purpose? You were convenient. Disposable. And now you're the perfect scapegoat for his downfall."

The words cut deeper than I wanted them to.

Nathan saw it. He smiled wider. "He'll destroy you, Adrian. Just like he destroys everything he touches. You could walk away now... or you could help me end him before he ends you."

I pushed back from the table, shaking my head. "You're lying."

"Am I?" His voice dropped. "Ask him about Project Helix. Ask him why your name is listed in his private files. Then decide who's lying."

I turned and walked out, his voice echoing behind me.

"Careful, Adrian. You're playing with a man who doesn't know how to lose."

By the time I got back, the penthouse was dark except for the city lights spilling through the windows. Soren was there-waiting, sitting on the couch, his sleeves rolled up, his eyes shadowed.

"Where were you?" His voice was calm, but the edge was sharp.

"I needed air."

"Don't lie to me."

I clenched my jaw. "Why? You lie all the time."

He stood, slow and dangerous. "What did he tell you?"

I met his gaze. "He told me about Project Helix."

The change in his expression was instant, a flicker of surprise, then cold steel.

I stepped closer, my heart pounding. "Tell me, Soren. Is that why you married me? Was I part of your deal? Your plan?"

He didn't answer.

That silence was louder than any confession.

My throat tightened. "Say something!"

He moved closer until we were inches apart, his eyes burning into mine.

"You wouldn't understand," he said finally.

SOREN'S Pov

"I said I don't want the press near the building," I snapped, my voice echoing through the glass conference room. "If they try again, have them removed. No exceptions."

Nathan nodded, tapping on his tablet, but his tone was sharper than usual. "They're not backing down. Your sudden disappearance after the wedding scandal has made the situation worse. People are wondering if you've... gone soft."

I gave him a look. "Soft?"

"You've been avoiding meetings, missing events, and hiding in your penthouse with your new husband," he said carefully. "The board is starting to notice."

My grip tightened on the edge of the table. "Watch your tone."

Nathan met my eyes, unflinching. "I'm your assistant, not your enemy. But you can't ignore the fact that your father's already moving. Victor's been calling everyone he can. He wants the company back under his control."

That was what truly irritated me, not the press, not the gossip, but the thought of Victor Knight circling like a vulture, waiting for my next mistake.

"Let him try," I muttered, straightening my tie. "He won't get it."

"Then stop acting like you're already defeated," Nathan said. "If you're going to stay married to Adrian Vega, at least make it look intentional."

The name hit me like a quiet jolt. Adrian.

He'd been asleep when I left this morning, curled on his side with the blanket tangled around his waist. There was something strange about seeing someone like him in my space, too bright for the sharp edges of my world. Every time I told myself I'd send him away, I didn't.

Maybe because he didn't treat me like everyone else.

He didn't flatter or fear me. He challenged. He annoyed me. He made me feel, something I hadn't in years.

But that was a weakness.

"I'll deal with it," I said.

Nathan sighed, but he knew better than to push further. "Fine. You have a meeting with the investors at noon. I'll handle the press."

He left the room, and I was finally alone with my thoughts, not that I wanted to be. Silence never stayed quiet long enough around me. It always brought ghosts.

When I looked out the window, I saw the reflection of a man who'd built an empire on control, and suddenly, I didn't feel like that man anymore.

*********************

By the time I got home that night, the penthouse lights were dim, and the faint sound of a movie played from the living room. I stepped inside, and the smell of something warm, pasta, maybe, hit me.

Adrian sat cross-legged on the couch, a plate balanced on his knee. He looked up, surprised, as if he didn't expect me to actually come home.

"You're back early," he said.

"It's past eight."

"For you, that's early," he said with a small grin.

He wasn't wrong. Normally, I didn't come home at all.

My gaze flicked to the kitchen counter, where two plates were set. "You cooked?"

"I was hungry," he said. "And you didn't leave anything edible here. You seriously live on black coffee and nothing else?"

I ignored his tone and loosened my tie. "I don't have time to cook."

He shrugged, turning back to the TV. "Then it's a good thing one of us knows how."

I didn't reply. I should've walked past him, gone straight to my study, buried myself in work. But my feet didn't move.

"Are you going to stand there, or are you actually going to sit?" he asked without looking up.

I hesitated, then walked over and sat down beside him. The couch dipped slightly between us. The movie, some old comedy, played softly, laughter filling the quiet space.

I didn't care for it, but I found myself watching anyway.

After a few minutes, he spoke again. "You look tired."

"I'm not."

"You lie like you breathe."

My head turned sharply. "Careful."

He smirked faintly. "There it is, the CEO tone. I was starting to miss it."

"Adrian......"

"I'm just saying, you don't have to keep acting like everything's fine." His voice softened. "You got humiliated on live television, your father's trying to destroy you, and you're stuck with a stranger as your husband. Anyone else would've cracked by now."

I didn't answer. I didn't know how to.

Instead, I looked at him. Really looked. He wasn't dressed like someone trying to fit into my world, just a plain shirt, soft hair falling into his eyes, a faint bruise near his jaw from where a camera had hit him during the chaos last week.

He'd been thrown into my life by mistake, but somehow, he fit here better than I wanted to admit.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"That you talk too much."

He laughed, low and easy. "You're welcome for dinner, by the way."

"I didn't thank you."

"You should."

The faintest curve tugged at the corner of my lips before I caught myself.

He noticed. "Was that almost a smile?"

"Don't push it."

He chuckled and went back to eating, but the quiet between us wasn't heavy this time. It was... strange. Comfortable.

And that was dangerous.

Later that night, after he fell asleep on the couch, I stood by the window with a glass of whiskey in hand. The city stretched beneath me, bright, endless, demanding.

Nathan's words echoed again: Make it look intentional.

If I wanted to protect what I'd built, I needed to turn this accident into strategy.

An idea began forming, reckless but possible. If I made this marriage look real enough, long enough, I could control the narrative. Turn scandal into opportunity.

But to do that, I'd have to keep Adrian close. Too close.

I looked back at him. He shifted in his sleep, the blanket sliding down his shoulder. The soft light caught on his skin, the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Something twisted in my chest, something I didn't like.

I wasn't supposed to feel anything. Not for him.

I finished the whiskey, setting the glass down quietly. Tomorrow, I'd fix everything. I'd meet the board, silence Victor, and make the world believe this marriage was my choice.

Because the moment I started believing it myself, I'd lose.

Still, I couldn't tear my eyes away from him.

Maybe Nathan was right. Maybe I was going soft.

The thought made me scoff under my breath.

And yet, when Adrian murmured my name in his sleep, just once, quiet and unguarded, I froze.

For a long second, I couldn't move. Couldn't even breathe.

I told myself it was nothing. Just a dream. Just noise.

But it didn't sound like nothing. It sounded like danger.

Because if he could say my name like that without meaning to...

Then what would happen when he did mean it?

I turned away, forcing my voice back to its usual steel.

"This changes nothing," I muttered to the empty room. "Absolutely nothing."

But the city outside didn't believe me. And deep down, neither did I.

He shifted again, mumbling softly before going still.

I should've left him there, but I didn't. I reached down, pulled the blanket over his shoulder, and stood there for a second longer than I should have.

Then I whispered something I couldn't take back....

"You're going to ruin me, Vega."

ADRIAN'S Pov

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was sunlight spilling through the curtains and the faint smell of coffee drifting through the air.

For a moment, I forgot where I was. The couch beneath me felt too soft, the blanket too heavy, the air too cold and clean to be home. Then it hit me, this wasn't my apartment. This was his penthouse.

Soren Knight's.

And I was still married to him.

I groaned quietly, pressing a hand to my forehead. My body ached from sleeping on the couch, and my mind ached from trying to make sense of this entire mess. I hadn't meant to fall asleep here, but he'd been quiet last night, distant, like he always was, and somehow the silence felt safer than my thoughts.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The TV was still on, low volume, looping the credits of some old comedy. There was a glass of water on the table beside me, and beside it... a folded blanket.

He'd covered me.

That realization shouldn't have made my chest tighten, but it did.

"Morning," a voice said from behind me.

I turned quickly to find Soren standing by the counter, already dressed in his sharp suit, tie perfectly aligned, not a single hair out of place. He was holding a mug of coffee like it was part of his hand.

"Didn't mean to wake you," he said.

"You didn't." I stretched, wincing a little. "You look like you've been awake for hours."

"I was," he replied, setting the mug down. "There's a meeting with the board in an hour. I needed to prepare."

Of course. Even after being humiliated on national television, Soren Knight still woke up before sunrise to prepare for a meeting.

I tried to laugh it off, but it came out more like a sigh. "You really don't stop, do you?"

He gave me a small look. "Not everyone can afford to."

The words hit a little too close to home, and for a second, I didn't know how to respond. He wasn't wrong. I couldn't afford to stop either, between hospital bills, debts, and trying not to drown in someone else's world.

I forced a smile. "Right. Mr. Knight and his empire."

He frowned slightly, like he wasn't sure whether I was teasing him or insulting him. "You can have breakfast if you want. The chef left something in the kitchen."

"You have a chef?"

"I have staff," he corrected. "Most of them know better than to speak."

"Wow," I muttered. "Sounds like a fun house."

He ignored that and went back to looking at his tablet, scrolling through whatever business reports ran his life. The silence that followed was thick, awkward, and cold, just like everything else about him.

But I'd gotten used to that silence.

I stood and walked toward the counter, grabbing an apple from a bowl that looked too perfect to actually be eaten. "So... what happens now?"

He didn't look up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're married. The whole world knows it. Your father's furious. The press won't stop calling. So what's the plan, Soren?"

He finally met my gaze. "We make it believable."

"Believable?"

He nodded. "Nathan was right. If we pretend this was intentional-if we act like this was a choice, it'll calm the media and keep investors from running."

I blinked. "You want us to pretend to be a couple?"

"That's exactly what we'll do."

I set the apple down slowly. "You realize how insane that sounds, right?"

"Insane or not, it's necessary," he said coolly. "If I lose control of this company, Victor wins. I'm not letting that happen."

"And what do I get from this?" I asked, crossing my arms.

He hesitated, which meant he hadn't thought that far ahead. "You'll be taken care of. Financially."

I raised a brow. "So I'm just your paid husband now?"

He didn't flinch. "If that's what it takes."

The calmness in his tone irritated me more than the words. I wanted to shake him, to make him realize how ridiculous it sounded.

"I didn't marry you for money," I said sharply. "It was an accident. A stupid night that got out of control."

"And now it's a contract," he said simply. "One that can save both of us."

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped. Because somewhere deep down, I knew he wasn't wrong.

If pretending to be his husband could solve his corporate disaster and keep me from drowning in hospital bills... maybe it wasn't the worst deal in the world.

But it still hurt to hear him talk about it like a transaction. Like I was just another number in his perfectly organized life.

"Fine," I muttered, grabbing the apple again. "I'll play along. For now."

He studied me carefully, his blue eyes unreadable. "You have no idea what you're getting into."

"Neither do you," I shot back. "You think you can control everything, but people aren't business deals, Soren. You can't schedule feelings."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he'd say something cutting. But he didn't. He just turned away, straightening his cuffs like he was trying to fix the one thing he could control.

"Be ready by noon," he said. "Nathan will brief you on what to say."

I frowned. "Say for what?"

"The press conference."

My stomach dropped. "Press conference?"

He finally looked at me again. "The world wants to see us. We'll give them what they want."

********************

Two hours later, I was standing beside him in front of dozens of flashing cameras.

Soren looked completely in his element, calm, sharp, untouchable. I, on the other hand, was trying not to squint at the lights or sweat through the suit Nathan had chosen for me.

The press whispered like a wave before one of them called out, "Mr. Knight, is this marriage legitimate?"

Soren's voice was steady when he answered, "Yes. Adrian and I are married. It may not have been planned, but it is real."

I blinked, glancing up at him. Real?

He placed a hand on my back, light but firm, enough to make the cameras explode with flashes. His smile was smooth, convincing, almost gentle.

For the first time, I saw him not as the cold CEO, but as someone who could make the whole world believe a lie.

And I was part of it.

The questions came faster after that. How we met. Why Vegas. Whether it was love or strategy. Soren answered every one with precision, and I followed his lead, trying not to say the wrong thing.

By the time it ended, my heart was pounding.

He leaned close as we walked offstage, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "You did well."

"Don't sound so surprised," I muttered.

"Don't sound so proud," he replied.

I glared at him, but he was already walking away, surrounded by reporters and assistants.

And somehow, I felt invisible again, just like the night this all began.

When we finally got back to the penthouse, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the couch. My phone buzzed with notifications, articles, photos, social media posts. Every single one with our names in the headline.

Soren Knight and Adrian Vega: The Billionaire and the Nobody.

I stared at the screen until my chest ached.

This wasn't supposed to be my life.

I'd just wanted to pay for my mother's treatment, to keep her safe. And now, I was trapped in a world where every move, every breath, every touch was part of a performance.

I heard footsteps behind me.

"You handled yourself well today," Soren said quietly.

I turned to him. "You keep saying that like this is some kind of job interview."

"In a way, it is," he said, voice calm as ever.

Something inside me snapped a little. "Do you ever stop being like this?"

"Like what?"

"Cold. Detached. Acting like nothing touches you."

He didn't answer right away. His eyes softened, just for a second, and I saw a flicker of something human beneath the armor.

Then it was gone.

"This is who I am," he said.

"No," I said quietly, standing to face him. "It's who you pretend to be."

He froze, eyes darkening slightly, but before he could speak, I walked past him toward the hallway.

I didn't want to see the look on his face.

I didn't want to admit that part of me cared.

But just before I turned the corner, I heard him say my name, softly, almost like a confession.

"Adrian..."

I stopped but didn't turn around.

His voice was lower now. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

I swallowed, forcing myself to keep walking even though my heart was pounding.

"Too late for that," I whispered.