CHARLOTTE'S POV

I wasn't sure what I expected when I walked into that room.

Maybe someone arrogant and cold. The type who saw women as part of a checklist. A name, a ring, and a legacy.

But Aiden Kingston wasn't what I imagined, he was worse.

He was calm.

And not the "let's talk this out" kind of calm. The dangerous kind. The kind that said I've seen things you wouldn't survive.

He didn't argue or smile. He didn't try to charm me like most men would when told they'd be marrying a stranger.

Instead, he just looked at me like I was another detail in a long, exhausting list of duties.

Which pissed me off even more.

I wasn't a detail.

And I wasn't his.

Back home, I slammed the door to my room and stared at the ceiling, unsure whether I wanted to scream or cry.

I chose both

A few angry tears slipped down my cheeks, but I wiped them away before they could fully fall.

Weakness wasn't allowed here. Not in Barry's house. Not under Dianne's shadow.

And for what?

A dying company?

A reputation she already ruined years ago?

The betrayal stung more than the deal itself.

Barry, I could understand. He was always about power. Always looking for the next hand to play.

But Mom?

She looked at me like she had already mourned me. Like the version of me she loved had been buried with my father. Maybe it had.

Maybe I died the day she moved on with his brother.

I rolled onto my side, grabbing my phone, instinctively opening my notes app, the only place where my voice still mattered.

> Title: The Deal.

Opening Line: She never imagined her signature would cost her soul.

Mood: Betrayed, trapped, angry.>

I stopped typing.

Because this wasn't fiction anymore.

This was my life.

The next morning, I was summoned again. No "good morning," no "how are you feeling?" Just a cold knock and a clipped voice from Barry's assistant.

"The Kingstons would like you to attend a dinner at their estate tonight at seven sharp. It's a formal dinner.

Like I was some prized puppy being trained for show.

I didn't respond. I just closed the door and stared at my closet.

Formal.

I hated that word. It usually meant stuffing myself into a dress that wasn't made for comfort and pretending I wasn't silently screaming on the inside.

But I picked a dress anyway. A navy blue, off-shoulder, sleek and subtle. Not flashy, not soft. Just enough to remind them I wasn't easy to break.

The Kingston estate was something out of a rich person's fever dream.

Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, glass walls that reflected your thoughts before you even had them. Everything screamed money, but it was too clean. Too curated like a museum that was scared of feeling real.

Aiden was waiting when I walked in, dressed in black. Of course, he probably slept in suits.

He didn't say much, just nodded at me like we were business partners about to sign a merger.

I wanted to stab him with my heel.

Instead, I smiled.

Fake, Poised, and Perfect.

We were led into the dining room, where his father and mother waited, looking like they had stepped straight out of a royal family portrait.

"Charlotte," Adam Kingston said smoothly, rising to greet me. "You look stunning."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Adam. We're family now."

The word made my stomach twist.

Dinner was a blur of silverware, small talk, and veiled warnings disguised as compliments.

"So, Charlotte," his mother said, dabbing her lips with a linen napkin, "What are your views on privacy? Especially once you are married?"

I blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I mean," she continued, eyes sharp and polite, "Do you believe secrets should stay between husband and wife? Or do you think honesty is always best, no matter the cost?"

Ah, there it was.

I glanced at Aiden, He was expressionless, staring at his plate like it held answers to questions no one dared to ask.

"I think," I said carefully, "that honesty is useless if the person listening is already committed to lying."

There was a pause.

Then Adam laughed. "She's smart. I like that."

Aiden still didn't speak.

When dinner ended, Aiden walked me to the car. The silence between us was thick, buzzing with everything we didn't say.

Just before I stepped in, I turned to him.

"I'm not your puppet," I said.

"I know."

"And I'm not staying quiet. If I find out what this really is ---"

"You will," he cut in, his voice low.

"Eventually."

His eyes met mine, and for a second, I saw something flicker behind them. Pain? Regret? Maybe even a warning.

But then it was gone.

And he stepped back.

"Goodnight Charlotte."

The door closed.

That night, I didn't write anything, I didn't cry, I didn't pace.

I just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how many lies it would take to break a person completely.

Because something told me this marriage wasn't the beginning of a story.

It was the unraveling of one.

And I was stuck inside it.

CHARLOTTE'S POV

It's strange how quickly life can pivot. One day, you are arguing with your mother about a future you don't want, and the next, you are standing before a mirror in a wedding gown that doesn't feel like yours, yet somehow it oddly fits.

I always thought I'd run away if forced into something like this. But here I was, not running, screaming, or fighting.

Just.... accepting.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Or the way Aiden had looked at me the night we signed the marriage agreement. His eyes were quiet, guarded but not cruel. Maybe it was because deep down, I knew there was no going back.

My father's legacy was gone. My mother had made her bed and I was the final pawn left on the board.

So I surrendered, but on my terms.

I would walk into this with my head high, even if my heart dragged behind me.

The morning of the wedding was calm. Too calm. No last-minute protests or soap opera-style objections. Just makeup artists, photographers, and my mother pretending this was every girl's dream.

"You look beautiful," she said, adjusting the veil on my head.

I glanced at her reflection beside mine in the mirror. "Do I look like someone marrying for love?"

She paused, hands frozen. "You look like someone who's ready."

Ready? For what exactly? I didn't even bother to ask.

The ceremony was held at the Kingston estate's garden. Grand and luxurious. The kind of wedding fairy tales had been ghostwritten by a board of directors and filled with silent stares instead of sweet nothings.

Aiden looked sharp, as always. Perfect suit, perfect posture. But his eyes..... they weren't perfect. They were distant, like he was somewhere else.

Still, when he took my hand, there was a spark. A flicker of something real.

"Ready?" he asked under his breath.

I nodded. "Let's do it."

The vows were read, rings exchanged. A kiss that was more political than passionate and then just like that, I was Mrs Charlotte Kingston.

The honeymoon was a blur. Not because it wasn't memorable, but because it felt like someone else was living it. We flew to Santorini. Aiden's choice because I didn't have a say. It was heartbreaking. Not having to get your dream wedding or honeymoon.

We had separate rooms in a villa overlooking the sea. He never imposed, never assumed. Every moment we shared was polite.... careful.

But on the third night, something shifted.

We were sitting on the terrace after dinner, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky with a hundred shades of fire.

"You are not what I expected." He said suddenly.

I turned to him. "What did you expect?"

"A spoiled heiress, a reluctant bride. Someone bitter and angry."

I chuckled. "Oh, I am bitter and angry. But I'm learning to keep it stylish."

He smiled. A real one for the first time since I met him. It changed his entire face. It made his face lit and his eyes pop.

"You surprise me too," I said.

"You are less arrogant than I imagined."

He raised a brow. "Is that a compliment?"

"Quite hard to believe it myself, but yes, it's a compliment." I giggled.

The silence between us grew comfortable. We sat and just enjoyed each other's company. And for the first time, I let myself look at him not as my husband on paper, but as a man. A complicated and guarded man with secrets behind those dark eyes. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't the villain I portrayed him to be.

That night, we didn't kiss, nor did we cross any lines. It wasn't the usual honeymoon night where couples spend the night in each other's arms or consummating their wedding.

But when I fell asleep, I dreamed of him.

Moving into Aiden's mansion was a bit scary. Adjusting to a new environment was different for me.

When we got out of the car and entered the mansion, it was as if all the staff knew what to do. They rushed into the living room and arranged.

Aiden clears his throat slightly, his voice calm but distant.

"This is Charlotte."

He paused and continued. "My wife,"

"She will be staying here permanently. Whatever she needs, you give it to her with no questions asked or any delay.

I glanced at him but he didn't look at me.

Elsie, Cheryl, you will make sure her rooms are always in order. If she wants to change anything in the east wing, let her.

The house was too big and quiet. Aiden gave me the east wing of the mansion and said I could decorate it however I wanted.

There were two maids, Elsie and Cheryl, a middle-aged woman, Petra, who is the chef, and coordinates the house. And also lots of securities.

Elsie and Cheryl took my bags and took me to the east wing, and Aiden stayed back to give more instructions to the other staff.

Aiden stayed in the west wing. Most mornings or evenings, we ate together.

I started to notice some things about him. He always drank coffee at 6 a.m. and went to his private gym at 4 a.m. He always stopped at a particular window before leaving the house, like he was trying to remember something.

Sometimes we stare at each other and other times our hands brush over each other.

We weren't in love but I guess we were trying to make it all work. I had hope.

One evening, after a long walk in the garden, I returned to my room to find a gift box on my bed wrapped in a deep green ribbon.

I opened the box and I saw a book. "The Secret Garden." A book I had always loved since I was a child. And inside the box I found a note.

"I remembered you mentioned this once.

Not everything about this has to be a duty.

- Aiden.

My heart gave a small flutter. It was the gift he had given to me. Not a jewelry or perfume. It was a book.

That night, I stood in front of his door for full five minutes before I knocked. He opened the door. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his hair slightly tousled. He looked.... softer.

"I wanted to say thank you," I said.

He nodded. "You are welcome."

There was a long pause. I didn't walk back to my room to avoid the weird silence. Instead, I waited and then I asked.

"Do you ever think we could make this work?"

He didn't answer, he just smiled.

I just walked back to my room smiling. I didn't fall in love with Aiden Kingston that night but I think it's safe to assume that the door to love might be opened a little.

I hope he thinks so too.

AIDEN'S POV

I messed up.

Not because I said too much, but because I allowed her to see something I buried a long time ago. That moment on the stairs, the book in her hands, the softness in her eyes, it cracked something inside me.

And cracks? They are dangerous.

Because when people find the cracks, they start digging.

I have lived most of my life behind stone walls. And I built them for a reason.

The next morning, I didn't wait for breakfast.

I left early.

Charlotte had this look on her face last night like she thought something had changed between us that we were finally becoming something.

We weren't.

We couldn't.

By the third day of me successfully avoiding Charlotte, she finally confronted me.

I was in the study, hunched over reports I brought home from the office. I was deep inside my work when she walked in.

"Aiden." Her voice was gentle. "Can we talk?"

I didn't even look up. "I'm busy."

"You have been busy for days."

I sighed. "It's called work, Charlotte. You should try it sometime."

She flinched, but she kept standing there. "Did I do something wrong?"

I set my pen down slowly. "No."

"Then why are you acting as if we are strangers living together?"

"I'm not acting, Charlotte." My voice sounded so cold. "This is who I am."

Her lips parted, but no words came out of her mouth. I could see the hurt forming but she tried to hide it behind her pride.

"She stepped closer to my desk. "You do not get to pull me in and then shut down without an explanation. I'm not a child."

"I never pulled you in," I snapped raising my voice a bit.

"Don't mistake one act of kindness for something deeper. It is not as deep as you might think."

"You gave me a book from your childhood," she said, her voice tight.

"That's not nothing."

"It was a moment of weakness. One I will make sure not to repeat ever again."

She stared at me, her eyes were sparkling like a glass of tears and it made me uncomfortable. Guilt doesn't suit me.

"I thought there was hope for us," she whispered.

"Oh, come on Charlotte, don't tell me you think this is some love fairy tale story that the man and woman fall in love and they live happily ever after. Let me make this clear, There's no hope for us, so stop trying to find it." I said flatly.

Charlotte blinked rapidly, trying to prevent the tears from falling. Then she turned and walked out without saying another word to me. Not that I was expecting one.

I left the house like I was a thief because deep down I couldn't face Charlotte after the encounter we had in my office. Why did I even decide to work from home?

I need a distraction.

I need a fix. I picked up my phone and called my friend at the club I usually visit.

"Hey man, how's it going?"

"Aiden, my boss, I'm good, it's been a while. Congratulations on your wedding. Too bad I wasn't invited."

"Sorry bro." I didn't know what to say to him because I wanted to brush him off.

"I need you to send a girl over to the usual spot."

"Okay, boss." He knew better than to question me and I'm certain he wanted to ask questions.

At the bar, I didn't drink much. I just had a few glasses and I left the bar with my distraction. I got home in the evening.

Honestly, I didn't want her. I just needed to prove something to myself, and maybe to Charlotte, too.

The second we walked in, I saw Charlotte curled up on the couch in the living room with a blanket. She was reading a book peacefully. Until she saw us.

She looked at the girl holding my arm, then back at me.

She stood slowly. "I see," she said softly. "So this is how it's going to be."

I didn't answer. She turned to the maid, Elsie, who I didn't notice was standing in the hallway.

"Please make sure she gets whatever she needs," Charlotte said calmly. "She's a guest after all."

She didn't wait for a response. She grabbed her book and the blanket and walked up the stairs.

Later that night, the girl passed out drunk in the guest room. I didn't even touch her. I wanted to but I just couldn't do it.

All I could think of was Charlotte's silence.

I stepped out of my room and I met Petra, the chef, trying to lock the side doors.

She glanced at me. "Having a long night, sir?"

I raised my eyebrow. "Any problem?"

"No, sir." She paused. "Just wondering if you are planning to keep hurting her, or if this is a one-time thing."

I stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"She ate dinner alone, again and she barely touched her food."

"I don't care, and by the way, I am not paying you to put your mouth into matters that don't concern you." She nodded and left.

The next morning, I ran into Charlotte. She was coming out of her room, holding sets of dirty bed sheets.

"You don't have to do that," I said.

"I live here, so I might as well clean up too," she replied calmly.

I winced. "She's just....."

"You don't have to explain," she cut in, her eyes were free of any emotion. "I've gotten the message loud and care, I won't expect anything from you."

"Charlotte......"

She looked at me. "You know the worst part? It's not the fling, it's the fact that I let myself believe you were different."

"I told you not to," I said with my voice low and deep.

"You gave me hope, that's crueler than ten flings, Aiden," she said, pressing the sheets to her chest.

She walked past me, brushing my shoulder, and it lingered.

I decided not to go to the office. I stayed in my study from morning till night. The book I gave her was still on her nightstand. I saw it earlier when she left the door slightly open.

She still keeps it till now. Even after everything.

Elsie knocked lightly and peeked in.

"Would you like tea, sir?"

I shook my head."No."

"Miss Charlotte asked for something calming. I thought maybe..."

"She's not sleeping?"

She shook her head. "She hasn't been eating much either."

I rubbed my face. "Thanks."

She looked happy that day, sir. The day you gave her the book."

I stayed silent.

"She thought you were opening up."

I looked away. "That was a mistake."

"Then why does it look like you are the one hurting now?"

Before I could answer, she turned and left me alone.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn't want to be.