Carol frowned. "...Is it really that dramatic? Though, I gotta admit, the name Ethan does ring a bell."

"He's literally Riverton's business Grim Reaper, always popping up in finance news. Of course he sounds familiar!"

Sophia grabbed her wrist, clearly freaking out. "Stop, don't change the subject! How could you agree to marry him?! The doctors said he's got, what, two months left tops? Babe, even if you're hellbent on being a widow, this is way too reckless!"

Something clicked in Sophia's head and before Carol could respond, she turned pale, rolling up her sleeves like she was ready to throw down. "Don't tell me it was your dad and that awful stepmom of yours who made you do it? I'm going to have a little 'chat' with them!"

Carol quickly stopped her hot-headed bestie, gently shaking her head. "No one forced me. I said yes on my own."

She paused, her tone unusually calm, like it wasn't her life they were talking about. "Honestly, yeah, I was kinda impulsive when I found out Ryan cheated. But thinking about it now... it's not the worst outcome. Becoming a widow in the Mitchell family beats being stuck with a scumbag any day."

"You think being the rich widow of some elite family is that simple?" Sophia was practically pacing now, angry and anxious at once. "They're obviously marrying him off now just so he can leave an heir! Once you're in, there's no way out!"

Carol let out a chuckle, her grin looking carefree-too carefree. "What's so hard about it? I'll just steer clear of him. Two months in hiding, wait till he's gone, then boom-freedom."

Before she could finish her thought, two large men in black suits had silently appeared by their table. The one in front wore a poker face, his voice respectful but firm. "Ms. Bennett, please come with us. Mr. Mitchell would like to see you."

...

Carol got into the black Bentley, flanked by the two suited bodyguards as the car quietly sped toward the outskirts of Riverton. It eventually pulled up to an upscale, heavily guarded medical facility, surrounded by trees and silence.

She was led into a sleek, modern room that had a wide view and that distinct hospital-disinfectant smell hanging in the air.

The suited man knocked on the door. "Sir, Ms. Bennett has arrived."

"Let her in." A deep, slightly hoarse voice responded from inside. Though tinged with weakness, there was an undeniable air of authority.

Carol pushed the door open, her eyes immediately landing on the lounge chair by the window.

The man was half-reclining there, a light gray cashmere throw over him. One hand rested outside the blanket-long fingers, sharp knuckles, and a clean, elegant bone structure.

His skin was pale, like carved alabaster-strikingly beautiful, but cold, as if he might crack under a fingertip.

Yet that fragility didn't dull his good looks at all-in fact, it gave him a strange allure.

His features were sharp, with striking symmetry. High brow bones, a straight nose, strong jawline, and thin lips set into a hard line-his face looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine, the kind that made hearts race.

Even though his face was pale and his breathing uneven, he still carried a cold, distant vibe-as if he was some priceless artifact meant to be admired from afar, never touched.

Carol felt her heartbeat hitch for a second.

This man was way better looking than those trendy celeb guys.

The disgust that had been brewing ever since Ryan's betrayal actually eased a little just from seeing this face.

Ethan slowly looked up, his gaze falling on her with zero warmth-more like he was evaluating something he didn't really want. "I didn't agree to this marriage. It was arranged by my mother and your family."

His tone was quiet but firm, like he was talking business instead of his own life. "Tomorrow morning, Jack Thompson will take you to file for divorce. No strings attached."

The man in the suit, still by the door, nodded politely. "Yes, sir."

Carol blinked and took a couple of steps forward, her tone casual like chatting with an old friend, even carrying a hint of playfulness. "Honey, come on, why are we suddenly talking about divorce?"

The word "honey" instantly made Ethan frown, a flicker of clear disgust flashing in his eyes-like someone completely put off by something frivolous.

He glanced up at her, his gaze sharp enough to cut. "Ms. Bennett, do you always get this cosy with every guy you've never met before?"

He paused, voice going colder. "For a mere fifty grand, you'd throw away your pride. Was it worth it?"

Carol's heart skipped half a beat.

This whole deal had been arranged between his mom and her family, yet Ethan somehow knew she'd collected fifty thousand from the Bennetts.

That's what happens when you're rich-what most people spend years saving for, he just calls "a mere fifty grand." Rich people, huh.

Still, she kept smiling, looking all sincere and innocent. "Who said we haven't met? You saved my life-I truly wanted to marry you and grow old together. The money's just... icing on the cake."

"Saved your life?" Ethan gave a short, amused laugh, clearly not buying it. There was even the faintest smirk at the corner of his mouth. "Ms. Bennett, if you're going to make stuff up, at least try to be original. This kind of gold-digger move is ancient."

"You want to prove you're not after money? Fine. No need to divorce-" he gestured at Jack, who stepped forward holding a folder. Ethan's voice turned distant. "Sign this agreement. You'll waive any financial gain from this marriage. Even if I die, you won't see a dime."

"But if you choose to leave now, I'll hand you a blank check. You name the price."

He figured that'd be enough to unmask her real intentions.

Sure enough-

Carol nodded. "Sounds tempting."

"As long as you understand. Jack will-"

Before he could finish, Carol picked up the pen and scribbled her name at the bottom of the document without hesitating. Her writing was swift and clean.

Once done, she slid the paper across the table to him, her grin bright and breezy. "Told you, I'm doing this out of gratitude. The money's got nothing to do with it.

"I'm done signing, hubby. Your turn."

Ethan's frown deepened-his brow so tight it looked like it could crack a walnut.

He seriously couldn't figure this woman out.

Thought she was in it for the money? She gave up every perk that came with being his wife without blinking.

Thought maybe she was into him? He was dying, and she acted like that was no biggie.

He tried again to talk her out of it. "All of Riverton knows how sick I am. Being with me will only leave you with nothing but a widow title. Don't waste your time-"

But before he could finish, Carol cut him off, "Then you'd better hang in there. A psychic said I bring good luck to my man-maybe you won't die after all."

Ethan's tone turned icy. "Marriage takes two people. I don't even like you."

Carol just shrugged. "You're good-looking. That's enough for me."

She had a major thing for pretty faces. Honestly, with a face like Ethan's, she felt she could forgive anything.

Ethan looked even more disgusted. "Heard you just dumped your ex and ran straight into marriage with me. Your 'feelings' seem a bit cheap, Ms. Bennett."

Carol didn't even flinch. "I had poor taste. Cut my losses in time. Marrying you only proves you're the real match for me."

Ethan had officially lost his patience. His voice turned colder. "I'm not wasting any more time. Jack will take you to file the divorce paperwork tomorrow at 9 a.m."

Carol lied without batting an eye. "Might not happen. Your mom already called her lawyer. I'm just along for the ride at this point."

Ethan's handsome face instantly turned frigid.

He clearly didn't buy it. His eyes locked on Carol like he was trying to catch her slipping, but all he saw was calm composure.

"If you don't want a divorce, fine," he said coldly. "But this marriage stays under wraps. I'm not making it public, and you're not walking around pretending to be part of the Mitchell family.

"I don't think we need to see each other again either." He paused, then added with a warning edge, "Also, handle your own mess. Don't bring trouble to the Mitchells. I won't be your cleanup crew."

Carol nodded right away, smiling sweetly. "Sure, whatever you say."

Who said she didn't get a good deal out of this?

She got rid of a jerk and scored a ridiculously good-looking husband. That's a win in her book.

Ethan didn't want to see her again? Fine by her-less stress.

But she doubted Grace would let that slide.

Sure enough, the next morning her phone rang.

Grace's tone was gentle, but firm. "Carol, move into Ethan's villa."

Carol tried faint resistance. "Mrs. Mitchell, but Ethan might not-"

"I've already spoken to him. Jack will come pick you up soon."

So, Carol packed the essentials and hopped into the Bentley, heading toward Ethan's villa nestled on the hillside.

The decor was just like a private clinic-minimalist, icy tones, sharp lines. It looked expensive, massive even, but completely lifeless. Cold enough to send chills through her bones.

Ethan was at the dining table eating breakfast. He looked even paler than yesterday, but still sat straight, eating with that calm, aloof elegance only he could pull off.

When he saw Carol walk in, he let out a cold snort, eyes full of sarcastic amusement. "Wow, you really know how to get what you want. Went straight for my mom, huh?"

Carol had expected that reaction. She raised her hands helplessly. "You're blaming me? If even you can't say no to your mom, how was I supposed to?

"I swear, I'll keep to myself. I won't do anything crazy."

Though honestly-

What a waste, having this face around and not doing anything "crazy."

If Grace really wanted a grandkid, well, she wouldn't say no to that.

With genes like theirs? The baby would be a showstopper.

Too bad.

Almost like he'd read her mind, Ethan set down his fork and knife, shooting her a chilly look. "Crazy stuff? Keep dreaming."

"Ahem!" Carol cleared her throat, trying to change the subject. "So, where am I staying?"

Jack chimed in right on cue. "Ms. Bennett, the guest room's all ready. I'll show you."

The room was top quality, everything top-brand. Fresh sheets, even some well-fitted clothes in the closet.

But even with all that, it still felt cold. Like a luxe hotel suite-stylish but detached. Fancy, but soulless. No warmth whatsoever.

When Carol finished unpacking and walked out, Ethan was already gone.

Jack reminded her, "Mr. Mitchell doesn't like strangers at home. The helpers are all part-timers-clean up and leave. Hope you won't bring guests here either, Ms. Bennett."

Carol nodded obediently, silently thinking to herself: isn't she the biggest stranger here?

Since she was going to be living here for a while - maybe even become a widow - Carol figured she couldn't just let the place stay so gloomy. No way she was spending her days in this cold, lifeless house.

So, she took a day off from work and called her go-to interior team to give the villa a serious makeover.

By the end of the day, she'd been on her feet non-stop.

She swapped out the heavy dark curtains in the living room for light beige sheers to let the sunshine in, tossed some pastel pillows on the couch, and set fresh fruit and flowers on the coffee table. In the study, she replaced the blackout curtains with brighter ones and put a leafy pothos in the corner. Even the dining table got dressed up with a checkered tablecloth.

Looking at the refreshed space, Carol clapped her hands in satisfaction.

Now this felt a bit more like home.

Just as she finished arranging the last vase of flowers, the front door opened.

Ethan was back.

He walked into the living room, saw the changes, and instantly his face darkened. "What the hell is all this?"

Carol turned around, unfazed. "This place had bad vibes. Not great for your health. You've been sick so long, you need sunlight. Keeping the curtains shut all day just messes with your mood. I helped you fix that. No need to thank me."

Ethan's eyes flicked toward the cushions and fresh blooms, wary. "What are you trying to pull?"

Carol tilted her head, casually honest. "Nothing really. I just don't want you to drop dead too early."

Whatever lecture he was about to deliver got stuck in his throat. He stared at her, his expression suddenly hard to read.

Right then, the oven timer beeped - dinner was ready.

Carol walked toward the kitchen, throwing back, "I made extra food. Just homey stuff, nothing fancy like the meals Jack brings from those five-star joints. If you don't mind, you're welcome to join."

She thought he'd brush it off or ignore her completely. But when she came out carrying a dish, he was still standing there, silent.

His eyes scanned the room. He still looked stony-faced, but the sharp anger from earlier had dulled a bit.

Thinking maybe he still hated the changes, Carol added, "Sorry, occupational hazard. I'm a designer - it's kind of second nature. If you really can't stand it, I'll have someone undo it tomorrow."

Though in her head she was muttering, Don't be the guy who bites the hand that feeds you.

Ethan paused for a beat, then grumbled, "Busybody."

Carol shrugged like she didn't care.

She thought he'd head upstairs, but to her surprise, Ethan pulled out a chair at the dining table and sat down.

Even Jack was caught off guard, his eyes going wide as he rushed over to quietly remind Carol of Ethan's long list of food restrictions - no onions, garlic, spicy stuff, this allergy, that sensitivity.

As Carol listened, it hit her - wait a second, she'd only made dinner for herself and maybe added enough for one more. Why did it now feel like she was cooking just for him?

Then she remembered – his mom had promised her a decent "widow's payout" even if she didn't get pregnant within two months.

Given Ethan's attitude, there was no chance he was gonna touch her. So, getting pregnant? That train had left the station.

In that case, setting an extra place at the table? Not a big deal.

She'd take that compensation money with a clear conscience.

Thinking about it that way, Carol didn't feel so against Jack's long list of dietary restrictions anymore. She mentally jotted them all down.

When Ethan sat down at the table, Jack figured there was no need to order from Golden Hearth today, so he quietly stepped out to make a call and rearrange things.

The vibe at the table was... a bit awkward.

Carol broke the silence, reaching for the serving fork as she glanced at the roasted chicken and vegetables in the center of the table.

"Ginger glaze. Makes the skin really crisp. Might be a little strong, though."

She carved off a tender slice from the breast, avoiding the heavily glazed skin, and laid it gently on Ethan's plate.

"I know ginger's not really your thing. This one's milder."

Ethan looked down at the chicken, then at Carol's quiet focus. His eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful.

Carol didn't seem to notice or care about his reaction and just started eating on her own.

She never wasted food and believed in finishing every meal. She dug in and polished off her plate in no time. By the time she looked up, she noticed just how refined Ethan looked while eating-moving slowly, gracefully, not making a single sound. Everything about him screamed meticulous elegance.

She couldn't help but clear her throat awkwardly and sat up straighter.

Ethan glanced at her and said flatly, "Trying to act proper now? Don't you think it's a bit late?"

Carol wasn't embarrassed at all. She grinned and replied casually, "You don't get it-gotta look a little put-together in front of someone I like. Who knows, maybe if I fake it long enough, you'll end up falling for me."

Ethan's eyebrows twitched. Her bluntness caught him off guard, and he set down his fork.

Carol blinked at his barely-touched plate. "That's all you're eating? You're done already?"

Ethan shot her a look and said, with a hidden meaning, "No appetite." Then stood up and headed upstairs to the study without another word.

Carol looked at the half-finished plate of chicken she'd gone out of her way to ginger-proof.

She muttered under her breath, "...Seriously?"

What a prideful guy.

Just then, Jack came back from his call. His eyes landed on Ethan's plate-and stopped.

The slice of roasted chicken was clearly touched. A bite or two gone.

Jack blinked, almost double-checking.

He remembered every single time Ethan turned up his nose at anything with ginger.

"Too harsh," he'd say. "Gets in the way of the actual flavor."

And now?

Carol caught his look and smiled. "All done with your call? Want to eat something with me?"

Jack quickly put on his usual blank expression and declined politely, "No thank you, Mrs. Mitchell."

"Pfft-"

Carol had just taken a sip of water and almost spit it out, coughing a bit after choking on it. She waved her hand awkwardly. "Whoa, first time I've heard someone call me 'Mrs. Mitchell,' not used to it at all."

Jack stayed stone-faced, tone neutral. "You'll get used to it, ma'am."

Carol just chuckled and started tidying up the table. Jack, standing off to the side, reminded her, "Mr. Mitchell doesn't eat leftovers."

So picky...

Carol rolled her eyes inwardly but smiled on the outside. "Relax. I'm keeping it for the stray cats and dogs, not for him."

Seriously, guy doesn't cook and still complains? Just be glad there's food at all.

Jack watched her move efficiently and hesitated for a second before speaking. "Ma'am, there's something I still don't quite understand. Mind if I ask?"

Carol, without looking up, kept tidying and replied casually, "You wanna know why I agreed to marry someone who's basically one foot in the grave, right?"

That bluntness almost bordered on rude, and Jack instinctively glanced upstairs, displeasure flickering in his eyes.

Carol straightened up, meeting his gaze with calm eyes. "I already said-it's to repay a favor. If it were for money-"

She pointed at her own striking face with a smirk. "Come on, with this level of beauty, you think I couldn't land myself in any rich guy's bed in Riverton? Why would I stick around a man who might, well, drop dead at any minute?"

Jack couldn't help casting a couple more glances her way.

The evening sun poured through the window, spilling soft light over Carol. Her skin was porcelain fair, her features delicate-yeah, she did have that unforgettable kind of charm.

Honestly, she wasn't totally exaggerating.

But still, looking at all the rich men in Riverton, who could beat the Mitchell family in wealth?

Then Jack remembered that document Carol had signed-waiving all rights to marital assets. She'd walked away from every possible benefit this marriage could bring her.

So what was she really after?

None of it made sense. Jack set the thought aside, offered a polite nod, and stepped out quietly.

At the stairwell, Ethan frowned slightly, his gaze falling away from the figure in the dining room below.

Repaying a favor?

Only kids would fall for that kind of fairy tale.

He'd already had Jack dig into their past-there was nothing. No connection, no life-saving heroics. Nothing.

...

Carol hated doing dishes, so she didn't bother. Anyway, the cleaner came by regularly. She married into this house to be a lady of leisure, not Ethan's personal maid.

With nothing else to do, she went back to her room, pulled out her drawing tablet, and got to work on a design project.

She was technically on leave, but the grind never stopped.

That upcoming bid deadline in two weeks? All riding on this proposal.

In the middle of sketching, her phone lit up with a flood of messages from Sophia.

[Babe!! How's it going? That scary demon man treating you okay?]

[Are you alive?? Say something or I'm calling the cops!!]

[*buff guy smile meme* Here, feast your eyes! Recharge with hotness!]

Carol let out a laugh and typed back:

[Alive and kicking. The villa's pretty nice. I cooked. He ate it. So far, so good.]

Sophia responded in a flash:

[!!! He actually ate your cooking?? Wasn't he supposed to be all twisted and cold-blooded? What happened to scaring off every poor blind date?? Carol, you're acting weird. He's acting even weirder!]

Carol: [I'm 87% sure he's been body-snatched. Or maybe I'm dreaming.]

Sophia: [Now that's more like it.]

They bantered a bit more before Carol finally put her phone down and returned to her drawing.

She was used to pulling all-nighters for work. By the time she looked up again, it was already late.

Stretching with a yawn, she climbed into bed, ready to knock out-when a faint cough cut through the silence from the room next door. It didn't stop, just kept going-soft, rasping, shaking, like someone was really trying to hold it in but couldn't.

One cough. Another. Like something caught deep in the throat, dragging itself out with painful persistence, ripping through quiet air.

Carol froze, eyes wide open.

Ethan.

She held her breath, straining to listen.

The coughing didn't let up. It was getting worse, more urgent.

She thought back to dinner earlier-how his face had that odd flush against an otherwise sickly pallor, his occasional gesture toward his chest.

"I'm not cleaning up your mess," he'd said coldly, sparing no kindness.

He'd made it clear he didn't want her around, didn't want her in his space.

The smart move now would be to pretend she heard nothing. Just go to sleep.

This was Ethan-he had doctors on speed dial, a world-class medical team. If anything serious happened, he'd press a button, and Jack or some surgeon would show up instantly. Didn't concern her, really.

Right. Pretend nothing happened.

Carol turned over and pulled the blanket over her head.

But the coughing-grating and unrelenting-clawed at her ears, hooked into her gut.

She remembered his pale, almost colorless hands, remembered how he sat back in that lounge chair earlier, sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, making him look fragile and distant, like something breakable behind glass.

"Ugh." With a grumble, Carol pushed herself up and ruffled her hair in frustration.

She slid on her slippers, quietly got out of bed, and padded toward the door.