Right before heading out, Carol stared at herself in the mirror, steeled her nerves, and pinched her neck hard, intentionally leaving a visible red mark.

Ethan frowned at her.

She winced and said, "It's for your mom. She'll ask questions."

Ethan didn't say a word, just gave her a long, unreadable look before turning around and heading downstairs.

Sure enough, when Carol followed after him, Grace spotted the mark on her neck and instantly lit up with satisfaction. She handed Carol a bank card right then and there and gleefully encouraged her, "Keep it up! If you hit the jackpot in one go, I will be extra generous with the next gift."

Carol held the card and forcefully smiled.

When the ceremony wrapped, the two left the old house. Jack drove her to work and dropped her off at the company entrance.

She had barely stepped out of the car when a sharp-eyed coworker called out, "Whoa, is that a Rolls-Royce? Carol, don't tell me that's the rich boyfriend of yours!"

Carol shook her head.

Even thinking about Ryan made her cringe-cheating scumbag. Disgusting.

The coworker clearly didn't care about her denial. Carol always looked stunning, so changing boyfriends daily wouldn't even surprise anyone.

She leaned closer, trying to peek inside. Though the windows were tinted, the crack in the front one was just enough to make out a sharp-featured profile. She gasped. "Damn, Carol, your new husband is hot!"

Carol's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly covered her friend's mouth. "Shh! Keep it low-key, alright? This is top-secret!"

The girl nodded seriously.

But by noon, it felt like the entire design department had the scoop-Carol had not only married rich, but the guy also looked like he walked straight out of a drama.

One coworker messaged her privately: "Wait what?! Carol, you're really married? That's one hell of a secret.

"But what about Philip Walker? He's been into you since your first day. This might crush him."

Carol replied without hesitation, "I was never into him. If this makes him move on, then good."

No sooner had she sent it than Philip messaged her directly.

[You really got married?]

[Yeah.]

[Not Ryan?]

[Nope.]

[You've known how I feel for all these years. Even after you broke up, you still didn't give me a shot? Does this guy even love you?]

Carol sighed.

[Philip, you can't force love. We won't work out as a couple, but we can still be friends or coworkers.]

His answer came fast.

[No. Love doesn't work like that. From the moment I fell for you, being 'just friends' stopped being an option. You're just using this marriage excuse to turn me down, aren't you? I don't believe you're married.]

Carol could only reply, [It all happened kinda suddenly. Otherwise, I'd have sent you an invite...]

After that, Philip didn't say anything else.

Carol finally relaxed a bit, but she couldn't help thinking about Ethan.

Love shouldn't be forced.

One-sided feelings never lead to mutual happiness.

But here she was, married to a man she didn't care for-and who didn't care for her either.

It sounded crazy when she really thought about it.

And Ryan, the one she used to think loved her most, turned out to be nothing but trash.

She figured things with Philip were done and dusted, but that evening, her co-workers decided to throw a dinner party and insisted she bring her "plus one."

Carol felt a little stuck. Ethan had already said from the start he wasn't interested in being public-just the fact that he hadn't blocked her was grace enough. How could she possibly convince him to show up?

So she made an excuse: "He's super swamped at work. Maybe next time."

Philip, who had been quiet till now, suddenly spoke up with a hint of disbelief, "You sure he even exists?"

The coworker who'd seen the side profile earlier immediately argued back, "No way! I saw it with my own eyes this morning..."

Philip Walker jumped in, staring at Carol. "Then let him pick you up after dinner. The weather app says there's gonna be a storm. It's not safe for you to go home alone. Don't tell me your husband wouldn't even come get you?"

Sensing the awkward vibe in the room, the others picked up on Philip's frustration and quickly tried to change the topic.

But when the dinner ended, the rain somehow got even worse.

Philip brought it up again, and this time someone else chimed in, "Carol, just call your husband. He should come pick you up."

"Yeah, seriously. It's pouring out there. Just have him come get you," one added before lowering their voice, "Might finally make Philip give up too."

Carol glanced at the buckets of rain coming down and hesitated. Not expecting anything from it, she sent Ethan a message: [Dinner just ended. It's raining hard and cabs are impossible to get. Could you ask Jack to swing by and pick me up? The address is... ]

She didn't expect a reply-just another message lost to the void.

She was just about to hail a ride herself when her phone lit up. To her surprise, Ethan's name popped across the screen.

Startled, she answered immediately.

His voice came through calm and low, hard to read: "Come out. I'm outside."

Stunned, Carol peeked out at the restaurant entrance. Sure enough, a sleek black Bentley sat waiting beyond the rain curtain.

As everyone stepped out, Jack was already hurrying over with an umbrella.

One of the coworkers tugged Carol's sleeve, whispering excitedly, "Is that your husband? He's got serious presence! So good-looking!"

Carol shook her head. "No, not him..."

Just then, Jack reached them, gave the group a mild smile, and turned the umbrella fully toward Carol with respectful ease. "Ma'am, Mr. Mitchell has been waiting for you."

"Guess I'm heading off," Carol said, nodding goodbye to her coworkers before walking toward the car under Jack's shield.

A trail of envious and curious stares followed in her wake.

Once inside, she finally saw the man beside her in his crisp suit and blinked. "You're actually here?"

She thought Jack was just putting on a show earlier. Didn't expect Ethan himself to show.

Ethan kept his eyes ahead, side profile sharp and unreadable. "Just passing by."

Carol looked at him, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, really? Riverton's massive. Mitchell Group's in the east, I work all the way west, and tonight's dinner was in the south. Some coincidence, huh?"

Ethan's gaze briefly flicked to her face-so full of mischief, eyes sparkling like stars. His heart gave a little jolt, but his tone stayed flat. "You caused a scene this morning. Own it."

Carol leaned in a bit, eyes twinkling. "Wow, you really are a plan-ahead kind of guy. Were you, perhaps, waiting here for me? Sounds like you care."

Ethan turned his head away, dodging her gaze. "Keep dreaming."

As she opened her mouth to fire back, a notification popped up-her phone buzzed.

It was a message from Philip: [Carol, truth be told, one of the main reasons I joined this company was for you. Now... I'm applying for a transfer. I really do hope you're happy.]

Ethan didn't even glance over, but clearly heard the buzz. He said evenly, "Sort your personal stuff out. I don't want to wake up one day and see headlines about the Mitchell Group's daughter-in-law flirting around and stirring gossip."

Carol shrugged, slipping her phone away like it was no big deal. "You're blaming me for being too charming. It's not my fault people get drawn to me."

She tilted her head, that sly smile back on her face. "Only question is, when will I charm you too?"

Ethan's Adam's apple moved slightly. He didn't respond, just stared harder out at the rain blurring the city.

The next day, Carol had just wrapped up a meeting with a client when the receptionist called her over.

Thinking it might be another client, she paused, recalling who she had appointments with. "Is it Mr. Lee?"

The receptionist shook her head. "Said his last name is Morgan. Dude's got a real attitude too. He's downstairs waiting-kinda looks like trouble."

Ryan?

Carol's gaze cooled. "I'm not meeting him."

After work, she deliberately lingered a bit before heading out, but the moment she stepped outside the building, there he was-Ryan, leaning against his attention-seeking sports car, moody as ever.

As soon as he saw her, he stormed up. His words came out like he was doing her a favor, laced with blame. "Carol, haven't you caused enough drama? Yeah, I messed up, did what all guys do! But was a flash marriage really necessary? This whole thing's just to get back at me, right?"

Carol stared at him blankly. He reached out, trying to take her hand, speaking softer this time. "Look, I'm here to make peace, Carol. Let's stop this. Let's get back together and do it right. I swear, no more drama from other women again..."

That made Carol chuckle.

She yanked her hand away like she'd touched something filthy, her eyes practically dripping with disgust. "Ryan, seriously? You don't understand plain English? We're done."

"And don't go projecting your sleazy standards onto every guy out there. Spare me the ego trip. My marriage had nothing to do with you. I just needed to clean house-you were the mess."

Her words and the sheer contempt in her expression hit him hard, his face twitching between rage and embarrassment. The stares from passersby only frustrated him more.

He jabbed a finger in her face and started shouting, his tone vicious. "Carol, quit acting all high and mighty! You think you're some kind of queen now, huh? Landed a rich guy? That sickly loser won't satisfy you forever. One day when he's gone, what then? You'll be back on the streets-"

"Smack!"

Her hand landed across his face, loud and crisp, shutting him right up.

Carol's hand tingled from the hit, her eyes icy. "Watch your mouth."

Ryan stood there stunned, his cheek red, struggling to process what just happened. Then he snapped. "You bitch! You just hit me?"

He swung his hand back, aiming at her face.

Carol flinched instinctively, waiting for impact... but it never came.

Instead, a muffled thud rang out, followed by Ryan's pained grunt.

She opened her eyes to see Ryan sprawled on the ground, clutching his side in pain. A firm arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a faintly medicated, sterile-smelling embrace.

Ethan had shown up out of nowhere-still looking pale and lean, but the chill radiating from him was enough to make anyone freeze. He didn't say a word, just stood there, expression stone-cold, eyes flicking to Ryan like he was something no one wanted to step in.

Right then, sirens approached, getting louder. The police Carol had preemptively called arrived, quickly pinning down the flailing, cursing Ryan.

Ethan didn't spare him another glance. He simply turned to Jack and said coolly, "Take care of it."

Jack nodded, walked over to the officers, and murmured, "Officer, Ms. Bennett has stated she doesn't wish to engage. Please handle it however you see fit."

Ethan had his arm around Carol as they headed toward the Bentley parked nearby. Once they were in the car, with the world shut out, he quietly let go.

Carol turned to look at his sculpted profile, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Mr. Mitchell, fancy seeing you here. Passing by again?"

Ethan didn't bother denying the sarcasm. Eyes locked on the road ahead, he remarked flatly, "Not the smartest way to handle that."

Carol raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "He didn't land a hit, did he? You were there... keeping me safe." She deliberately softened her voice on the word "safe."

Finally, Ethan looked at her, gaze deep and unwavering. His tone was calm, but there was weight behind it. "People like him need to learn that putting hands on you comes with a price they can't afford."

Carol froze for a beat.

Was he schooling her on self-protection? Or... was that him standing up for her?

She quickly smiled again, bright and cheery. "Got it. Thanks for the life lesson, Mr. Mitchell."

Ethan frowned, clearly unimpressed with her breezy attitude, but he didn't argue. Just then, Jack got in after wrapping things up and started the engine.

Back at the villa, as they stepped inside, Carol noticed Ethan's steps halt ever so slightly. Without turning, he said, "Just this once."

Sounded more like a warning, but not quite harsh.

Carol responded easily, "Loud and clear~ I'll get dinner started~"

Only when Ethan went upstairs did her smile fade. She rubbed her cheeks, sore from keeping up appearances too long.

Carol had expected him to use this mess as an excuse to bring up divorce again.

But he didn't.

And it hit her-this man, distant as he might seem, handled things sharply, decisively, and with a power that got real results.

He once said he wouldn't clean up her messes. Yet here he was, throwing the Mitchell family's weight behind silencing Ryan.

Sure, maybe it was more about protecting the family name, not letting it get dragged through tabloid trash. But still, it didn't change the fact that she was shielded by it.

The feeling was unfamiliar.

Back when she was with Ryan, she always faced problems solo. Never once did she think someone out there might stand behind her like this.

Now though... awkward as it was, and despite their whole "arrangement," she couldn't deny the sense of security that clung to her.

It didn't feel half bad.

She went to her room and picked up her digital tablet, ready to sketch. But her thoughts kept drifting, her pen hovering motionless over the screen for a long time.

Again and again, Ethan's voice echoed in her mind-

"People like him need to learn that putting hands on you comes with a price they can't afford."

Her heart skipped. No warning, just stumbled over itself.

When she finally blinked out of her daze, she was startled to see a rough sketch of Ethan's profile taking shape on the screen. Just a few strokes, but it captured that cold elegance behind his frail exterior.

Panic flickered through her. She hit delete in a snap, clearing the screen instantly.

Then she pressed a hand to her chest, face slightly burning, and flung herself onto the bed, burying her head in the soft pillow.

Carol, snap out of it.

It was the weekend, so no alarms, no meetings.

Carol slept in without a care, then dragged herself to the couch with her sketchpad, turned on the TV just for some background noise, and started drawing.

As she flipped through the channels absentmindedly, her finger hovered as a familiar face popped up-it was a business talk show featuring Ethan.

She paused mid-motion.

He was dressed in a tailored dark suit. Even though his skin still looked a bit pale, the way he sat, back straight and eyes sharp, gave off a strong, unshakable presence. Every answer he gave to the host was delivered calmly and clearly-composed, confident, in control.

Then the host switched gears and got bold: "Mr. Mitchell, there's been a lot of buzz lately about your health. Some investors are worried-will that impact your control over Mitchell Group and its future direction?"

Even Carol thought that was out of line. She lifted her coffee but forgot to drink, eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for his response.

Ethan didn't even blink. His tone stayed cool and even as he replied, "I'm fully aware of my health, and it doesn't affect my judgment. More importantly, Mitchell Group has a sound decision-making system. It doesn't rely on one person."

He was calm and matter-of-fact, effectively turning a crisis into nothing at all.

Carol just stared blankly at the screen, watching that powerful man speak like he had the whole world under control.

She didn't know why, but her chest felt like it trembled a little.

Monday morning's meeting came fast.

The design department head added a last-minute update: "...Apparently two major partners just pulled out of several of Ryan's real estate projects under the Morgan Group. And some of the luxury brand collabs are on hold too. Looks like our payments for the model home work might get delayed, so everyone, double-check your parts and stay on top of it."

He lowered his voice, sounding half serious, half gossipy: "Word is, they've pissed off someone big..."

Carol suddenly pictured Ethan's expressionless but chilling face from the other day.

"People like him need to learn that putting hands on you comes with a price they can't afford."

That line echoed in her head out of nowhere.

Could it really be him?

In the break room, the coffee chat was already in full swing.

Someone brought up Ryan's scandalous video. Some coworkers praised whoever exposed it as a sort of vigilante hero, others thought it crossed a line and messed with people's privacy.

One girl leaned in, lowering her voice for effect. "A friend of mine in IT said some hacker group is digging into the uploader. Heard they're close to figuring it out..."

Someone blinked. "Why go after the uploader?"

"Probably bored and nosy. Said they want the uploader to have a taste of their own medicine."

Carol didn't bother to stick around. She grabbed her coffee and walked straight out.

But the moment she sat back at her desk, her phone rang.

It was Donald Bennett.

As soon as the call connected, Donald Bennett's voice came rushing in with his usual fake concern and urgency. "Carol, the Morgans reached out. They want you to take down that original video ASAP. No need to show your face, just post a statement saying the video was AI-generated and Ryan's being framed..."

Carol cut him off. "Not happening."

His tone turned sharp immediately. "Carol! Can't you be a bit more sensible? The Bennetts and Morgans do business together! Have you thought about what this means for the family?"

She let out a cold laugh, each word hitting like a slap. "The family? Donald Bennett, where was that sense of family when you cheated on Mom and brought that mistress home while she was still sick?"

Donald snapped, fury breaking through. "I'm your father!"

"I don't have a father. Mine died a long time ago."

Carol inhaled sharply, choking back the lump in her throat. "Take care of yourself."

And with that, she hung up, casually dragging his number into her blocklist.

That afternoon, a message from Sophia popped up with a link.

"Girl! Look at this! Someone seems to have dug up something on the video poster! The comments are full of trolls foaming at the mouth, yelling about doxing them and giving 'em a taste of their own medicine!"

Then a voice message followed, her voice full of worry. "Carol, I know you didn't do anything wrong. But if those lunatics start targeting you, it's still a huge headache!

"Plus, if the Mitchell family gets caught up in this mess... maybe it's time to just divorce him? Save yourself."

Carol frowned and opened the link, staring at the hostile comments on the screen. A twinge of unease crept into her chest.

It's not like she was scared-she had nothing to lose.

But what if Sophia was right? What if things escalated and the Mitchells got dragged in?

Ethan hated drama. Especially anything personal from her side.

She clenched her phone a little tighter, fingertips cold.

He'd warned her before: "Don't bring trouble to the Mitchells."

If her info really got leaked, staining the Mitchells' name... Would he just drop her like that? No hesitation?

Weirdly, deep down, she did feel... a tiny flicker of regret?

They hadn't even gotten out of the so-called "honeymoon phase" yet.

Meanwhile, over in the Mitchell Group CEO's office-

Jack finished delivering the latest update on the Morgans' project crashing, then added, "Boss, one more thing. The online buzz around that video? Someone's steering attention toward the original poster. Feels like the Morgans are behind it. Mrs. Mitchell... might be at risk of getting doxed."

Ethan had been going through documents the whole time, but hearing "Mrs. Mitchell," his pen paused mid-air.

Jack caught the slight change in his boss's expression and felt a chill run down his spine. That look usually meant someone was seriously screwed.

But then, Ethan's voice came calm and unreadable as always: "Shut it down."

Jack looked up, visibly startled, but the moment his eyes met Ethan's calm and unreadable gaze, he quickly straightened up and nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll handle it right away."

As he stepped out of the office, Jack couldn't help but think: Sure, the boss keeps saying he won't clean up after his wife, but isn't that exactly what he's been doing all along - just less obvious about it?

At this rate, Ms. Bennett might as well officially become Mrs. Mitchell for real.

*

When Carol got off work and clicked on that link again, the page had completely vanished. Not only was the post gone, but the topic had also been majorly suppressed. It felt like someone wiped the entire thing off the internet - no trace left at all.

She stared blankly at her screen. Honestly, who else besides Ethan could pull off something like this?

That uneasiness in her chest was quietly replaced by something more complicated.

Just then, her phone rang - it was Jack.

"Mrs. Mitchell, the boss instructed me to drive you to and from work for the time being," he informed her.

Carol immediately connected the dots. "So you're the one who handled the post, right? Thanks..."

Jack glanced into the rearview mirror at the man in the backseat, who had his eyes closed like he was resting. "Ma'am, Mr. Mitchell is also in the car. I'm afraid I'm not the one to pass on your thanks."

As soon as he said that, Ethan opened his eyes and shot him a glare.

"Didn't know you had this much to say lately."

Jack just smiled to himself. After working with Ethan for so long, he'd never once seen the man so openly concerned about someone.

As Carol exited the building, her eyes instantly landed on the Bentley parked by the curb. She climbed in and leaned closer to the chilly man beside her, arching a playful brow. "Thanks, hubby~"

Up front, Jack had kind of developed a tolerance for Carol's playful antics by now. He just kept his eyes on the road, pretending not to hear.

Ethan didn't even blink. "Not necessary."

But Carol didn't get discouraged. She just shot him a mischievous wink. "But you didn't object to the 'hubby' though~"

Ethan: "..."

Back home, Ethan barely said a word before heading straight to the living room and switching on his laptop.

Carol didn't bother him, just slipped into the kitchen.

As night fell, the gentle gurgle of the stew pot and the warm scent of food slowly filled the quiet house, softening the cold, sterile vibe of the space.

Ethan finally shut his laptop with a sigh and leaned back a bit, exhausted. But his eyes drifted - almost involuntarily - toward the kitchen where warm light poured out.

This kind of homey vibe... it'd been a long time since he felt it.

He closed his eyes, the scent lingering at the tip of his nose, and somewhere deep in his chest, that usually cold and guarded spot... seemed to melt just a bit.