The Barnett family had stood as a pillar of the city of Oranbu for more than a century, and Jared Barnett guarded their reputation as though it were sacred scripture. His only son, Leo, was the pride of that legacy, so every detail of his wedding was arranged with extravagant obsessiveness—nothing less than the most dazzling spectacle the city could offer.

Corrine had thrown herself into overseeing it all, stalking through banquet halls and designer showrooms. Yet the bride she had pictured beside Leo had always been Elsie—the impeccably raised daughter of the Norris family, polished to perfection and bred for society's grand stage. In Corrine's imagination, Leo and Elsie formed an ideal pair.

Jared's stubborn devotion to settling Leo's life debt to Khloe shattered those dreams. He had ordered Leo to wed Khloe instead, and from that moment, Corrine's resentment had taken root.

To Corrine, Khloe was nothing but an opportunistic outsider—an interloper who had materialized from nowhere and derailed the future she had so carefully mapped out.

A sharp voice cut through the silence. "Hard to believe that's supposed to be a wedding dress for tomorrow. That shade of pink is ridiculous—more like something a bridesmaid would get stuck wearing. Honestly, is Mrs. Barnett trying to embarrass the bride on purpose?"

"The poor girl can't even see—how would she ever realize they didn't even give her a real wedding dress? She'll likely show up in that thing tomorrow and end up making a fool of herself in front of the whole crowd."

The household staff's voices dropped to whispers, convinced their gossip was tucked safely out of reach.

Yet every word sliced clearly through the air. Khloe caught all of it. Her hearing, already sharp since childhood, had turned unnervingly precise after the darkness claimed her vision.

She trailed her fingertips across the smooth fabric, feeling every seam and bead, and a cold, humorless smile curved at the edge of her mouth.

Footsteps thudded softly along the wooden stairs, carrying two silhouettes into view—Leo with his shirt hanging open and his bare chest exposed, and Elsie with her hair in a wild, tangled mess, draped in nothing more than a thin silk slip.

A beat of silence followed. Leo clearly hadn't expected Khloe to return so early; irritation flickered across his otherwise polished features before he masked it.

Corrine picked up on the scene instantly. With a sharp snap of her fingers, she dismissed the household staff in the hall, then shot Leo a pointed look, urging him to get Elsie out of sight before the situation could spiral.

Leo slid an arm around Elsie's waist and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. Leaning close, he murmured in a low, indulgent whisper, "Tomorrow, I'm all yours. Be a good girl and head home now."

Elsie lifted herself onto her toes, then darted down the remaining steps and vanished through the back door.

A faint, unreadable smile curving her lips as Khloe dipped her head.

Even without sight, she tracked every movement with uncanny accuracy—she knew Leo's stride by heart and could map the room by sound alone, counting each presence as easily as breathing.

What a shame she couldn't witness their guilt firsthand or catch the panic surely twisting across their faces as they scrambled to hide the evidence.

With the dress delivered, Corrine rattled off a few quick instructions and took her leave.

Left alone, Khloe settled onto the sofa with her usual serene composure. She looked silent and agreeable, a woman who seemed incapable of anger.

Across the room, Leo exhaled in quiet relief. From her expression, she clearly hadn't caught on.

He smoothed his wrinkled shirt, forcing an easy charm back onto his face before taking a seat beside her. When he reached for her chilled hand, his tone tried to sound casual. "Did you get the wine?"

Khloe slipped her fingers free with delicate ease. "I did. I brought it back… but I got thirsty and drank some."

At a slow glance toward the table, Leo spotted the bottle already half gone and the glass left behind. For a blink, something sharp crossed his expression, then he tucked it away with practiced ease. "No problem. If it makes you feel good, have as much as you like."

Khloe angled her face toward him, offering a small, airy smile. "You're really… so 'good' to me, Leo."

A warm laugh rolled out of him as he slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Don't be silly. You're about to be my wife. Who else would I treat well?"

Against his chest, a heavy wave of Elsie's perfume clung to him—sweet, cloying, unmistakably intimate. The stench curled into her senses and twisted her stomach.

Three slow seconds passed before Khloe eased out of his hold, her palm drifting across his arm as she pushed him back.

She felt disgusted.

That fleeting embrace?

For her, it already marked the end.

"We'll go file the marriage paperwork first thing tomorrow," Leo announced, tone light and certain.

Khloe lifted the corner of her mouth and dipped her head in a soft, obliging nod. "Alright."

His hand skimmed over her silky hair in a practiced pat. Then he got up, and the warmth on his face vanished in an instant. The mask snapped back into place—cold, sharp, utterly detached.

He had no doubt she would obey. She always did. She'd step right where he wanted her—an easy pawn sliding neatly into his plan.

He couldn't wait to cut her out of his life for good. Her bland, lifeless demeanor left him irritated to his core—there was simply nothing there.

By the next morning, the City Hall building buzzed beneath a sky weighed down by heavy gray clouds.

The corridor outside the clerk's office overflowed with couples pressing shoulder-to-shoulder, waiting for their numbers to be called.

On a narrow bench near the wall, Khloe sat with her hands folded neatly over the skirt of her plain white dress.

A short distance away, Leo queued at the counter, impatiently tapping his heel while securing a number slip.

When the clerk finally began verifying their IDs and skimming through the forms, they casually asked a few routine questions, barely glancing up from the papers.

Propped lazily against the edge, Leo answered in an easy, almost charming drawl.

Khloe tipped her head, straining for every word. She barely caught his voice as he explained, "The groom isn't me. His name is James Elliott. The bride is Khloe Norris. I'm her brother—I'm only here to help her with the paperwork since she's blind…"

The rest slipped away behind the surrounding noise.

Khloe's grip slowly cinched around her cane, knuckles whitening.

Her thoughts raced, pulling up every scrap of gossip she'd ever heard about that name—James Elliott.

Rumor painted him as the notorious only son of the Elliott family. His father was a long-stationed military commander, barely playing a role in raising him. Therefore, he had grown up rough-edged and untamed after losing his mother, a wild streak carved deep into him—violent temper, reckless habits, a reputation for crossing every line without hesitation. In Oranbu, his name carried a kind of dangerous infamy.

And yet, some whispered his face was too striking to belong to this world, as if heaven misplaced one of its favorites.

What mattered even more was the power behind him. His family held Oranbu's economic lifeline in their grip, a city celebrated across the world for its perfume empire. James even ran a perfumery of his own, rumored to be both lucrative and exclusive.

Khloe figured that maybe the things she had searched for endlessly in the Barnett household might finally exist within the Elliott family's walls.

As that fragile thought flickered through her mind, a low rumble echoed from outside the building.

Down the road, a parade of high-end sports cars swept in like a glossy, snarling tide. At the center, a silver Koenigsegg glided forward and swung to a stop at the gate with icy, pinpoint precision, sealing off the entrance as if claiming the entire building for itself.

The display oozed audacity—loud, showy, and outrageously opulent.

Doors swung open in perfect unison. A crowd of men in sharp black suits filed out, lining up in two flawless rows, rigid as a living barricade.

From the Koenigsegg, the gull-wing door lifted. A pair of long legs descended first, fitted neatly into tailored black trousers. Sleek leather shoes kissed the pavement with a muted tap.

A tall silhouette rose from the car, unfolding into view with slow, effortless dominance.

Black silk clung to his frame, the shirt tailored to perfection, its top buttons undone just enough to reveal the hard lines of his chest—reckless, unrestrained, and deliberately provocative.

Sunlight slid across the sculpted angles of his pretty face, catching on the faint smirk playing at his mouth as he sauntered in with an easy, unhurried sway. Each step carried a quiet command, his presence flooding the space with effortless dominance. That seamless mix of arrogance and polished danger clung to him like a second skin, challenging anyone bold enough to stand in his path.

He didn't resemble a man arriving for the marriage registration. He looked like someone ready to tear the building down brick by brick.

James's assistant hustled after him, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Hold up a second! Do you even know which woman you're supposed to marry? What if you grab the wrong one?"

A few strides into the corridor, James came to an abrupt stop, his jaw set as his attention drifted across the crowded room.

His gaze eventually hooked onto a young woman perched on a bench, a slim cane resting against her knee. A waterfall of glossy hair framed her face, and her plain white dress only made her look softer, almost fragile. She sat with quiet composure—gentle, obedient… and strikingly lovely. Everything he wasn't—wild, volatile, impossible to rein in.

Only a few steps separated them.

James lingered there, studying her with a faint, crooked smirk tugging at his mouth.

Poor thing—completely blind, and still clueless that her fiancé had dumped her off like some unwanted junk.

Leo, rattled by the spectacle James had just unleashed, seized his arm and hauled him toward a quieter corner. "Who told you to pull this stunt? One wrong move and you'll blow everything."

James let out a low, careless chuckle, rolling his shoulders as if none of this concerned him. "Chaos is kind of my signature. I'm tying the knot today—what's a parade of fancy cars to celebrate it? If you're that offended, we can call the whole deal off."

The threat made Leo's face drain. Losing James now would ruin everything. "Alright, alright," he blurted out, lowering his voice. "Just keep your mouth shut once we're inside. Don't say a word while we sign."

The Barnett and Elliott families practically carved up Oranbu between them, ruling nearly eighty percent of the city's economy—and despising each other while doing it.

James had never played by Elliott rules anyway. At twenty-eight, the pressure to settle down had become suffocating, and nothing delighted him more than the idea of bringing home a blind bride just to spite his iron-fisted father.

Leo, on the other hand, saw a way to discard Khloe and humiliate the Elliott family in one beautifully cruel maneuver. It made their partnership disgustingly convenient.

So the agreement had snapped into place with hardly any effort at all.

Khloe settled quietly on the bench, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling around her. When Leo approached, he slipped a hand under her elbow with practiced gentleness, murmuring, "We're the next—let's go."

After leading her forward, he eased her into a chair. A moment later, another figure lowered himself into the seat beside her. Broad shoulders brushed the air above her, and a clean, woody fragrance drifted toward her—strange, unfamiliar.

A faint smile touched her lips.

Whoever this was, it wasn't Leo. The scent didn't match his.

James let his gaze drift toward the petite woman beside him, a crooked smirk forming as he took her in. When that soft smile returned and two small dimples appeared, the unexpected sweetness threw him for a beat.

He lost focus—just a flicker—before catching himself and exhaling a dry, amused breath.

How pathetic! Sold off like nothing, yet she kept right on smiling.

Soon after, they drifted toward the clerk's desk to finish the marriage paperwork.

The three of them settled into the chairs, an odd little trio.

The clerk paused, eyebrows lifting—people didn't usually drag in an extra companion for their marriage registration.

He collected their IDs, tapped the details into his computer, and ran off a stack of forms. A moment later, he slid the papers across the counter for the bride and groom to sign.

Leo guided Khloe's hand to the page, his palm heavy over her knuckles as he eased her fingers toward the signature line. "Right here. And over on this line too," he murmured.

A quiet breath fluttered out of her as Khloe tightened her hold on the pen.

There was no turning back.

Once her name landed on that paper, she would have nothing to do with Leo.

From this moment on, they were essentially strangers walking opposite paths.

James finished scrawling his signature with broad, confident strokes, then flicked the pen onto the desk with a lazy snap of his wrist. He angled a look toward the pair beside him, a faint spark of amusement sliding through his eyes.

Marrying his rival's fiancée? The satisfaction was downright intoxicating.

Worried Khloe might falter, Leo eased her hand downward again, his voice soft but insistent. "Go on and sign. Once this is done, we're good. I'll bring you home."

Khloe released a small, almost weightless laugh, her tension dissolving at last.

As if accepting everything in one quiet breath, she guided the pen with steady, deliberate strokes, placing her name exactly where it needed to be.

When the clerk passed over the freshly certified document, Leo snatched it up with eager hands and slid it into the inner pocket of his blazer. "I'll keep this safe. Stay here—I'll bring the car around."

James lingered a few steps away, one hand buried in his pocket as he watched Leo jog off in excitement.

A sudden, dry chuckle burst out of him, edged with disbelief.

Was he for real? It was nothing more than a sheet of paper, yet he acted like he'd just snagged first place in a lottery.

His attention shifted back to the petite woman at his side.

She stood still with her cane resting against her palm, her composed expression carrying a faint, lonely quiet that tugged at something he didn't like to acknowledge.

For a man who prided himself on being hard and unsentimental, the reaction annoyed him.

Yet staring at this blind, unsuspecting woman, a thin thread of sympathy slipped through anyway.

He was supposed to keep his mouth shut for twenty-four hours—Leo's one condition—just until the wedding ceremony ended tonight.

But honestly? This was him. An unruly heir had never been good at following rules, much less honoring promises he didn't care about.

With a soft clear of his throat, he leaned subtly her way.

"Hey there," he inquired, voice dropping into an easy drawl. "Any idea who I am?"

Khloe answered with an even, unhurried tone, "Yeah, I know you."

A quiet beat stretched. "So who am I, then?" James murmured, leaning in just enough to test her.

"My husband."

When those two soft words left her mouth, something in James's face jolted. A startled twitch tugged at his lips, cracking his usual swagger. "You… you know?" he muttered, baffled.

He hadn't spoken a word during the entire registration process. How on earth could she possibly tell? Was she not blind after all?

To test her, he shot a hand forward, knuckles tightening as he threw a sudden feint toward her cheek—quick and sharp, like he wanted to watch her flinch.

Khloe didn't so much as sway. Not a blink, not a twitch.

He drew his hand back slowly, a deep crease cutting across his brow. She genuinely couldn't see a thing—she didn't give the slightest response.

Khloe lifted her white cane and eased forward, her steps deliberate and calm.

A moment later, the tip of her cane hit something unyielding—a broad hand stopping it mid-air, followed by the solid press of a hard chest blocking her path like a wall. "You figured it out," James noted, his voice low. "And you still signed anyway?"

Khloe's lips curved, the meek, pliant softness she'd worn all morning dissolving in an instant. A cool, distant elegance settled over her, shifting her entire presence as if she'd slipped into another skin.

"Because I'm blind."

The corner of James's mouth twitched, a faint pull of disbelief. Was she teasing him… or cursing her own fate?

With steady steps, Khloe slipped around James and carried on down the path.

She made it only a few paces before slowing to a stop. With a subtle turn of her head, she looked back, offering him a sweet, serene smile.

The expression unfurled like a sudden blossom—so bright and soft that James froze, caught off guard by the unexpected warmth of it.

"I'd like to extend a warm invitation to my wedding," she said, her tone almost breezy.

His breath caught as the meaning clicked into place. She was referring to the Barnett family's grand ceremony—her so-called wedding to Leo. Was she out of her mind?

He stood there, absorbing the audacity of it—this blind, delicate-looking woman inviting her own husband to watch her marry someone else?

When his gaze swept over her, he caught the quiet depth in her unfocused eyes, a darkness as calm and vast as open water.

"Are you coming or not?" Khloe pressed, her head tilted just slightly, as if she could sense his hesitation.

A slow, crooked grin tugged at his mouth. "Yeah," he murmured, voice low with amusement. "Count me in."

——

Khloe slipped out of the car beside Leo, her heels clicking softly as they crossed into the Barnetts' estate.

Inside the reception hall, waves of chatter rolled through a space already swollen with guests—nearly every influential figure in Oranbu had made an appearance.

The moment Khloe crossed the threshold, Paula Norris, her stepmother, swept forward first, smile stretched wide, with Elsie gliding in right beside her.

"Ah, Khloe, there you are. So? Did you and Leo get all the forms done?" Paula posed the question with an overly sunny smile, her silk dress swaying around her.

No one in that room wanted the wedding to collapse more desperately than Paula.

Back when Khloe was only five, her father, Benny Norris, had carried her through the front door like a secret finally exposed. Paula pretended to welcome the illegitimate child with gracious smiles, but once the guests were gone and the lights dimmed, she unleashed her fury—slaps, insults, and cold neglect behind every closed door.

Meals were a luxury Khloe rarely tasted in that house. Most days, she went hungry, bruises blooming along her thin arms as she slept on a dusty cot in the attic.

Elsie, meanwhile, lived an entirely different life. Paula groomed her daughter to become the perfect young socialite.

Khloe survived only three years under that roof before Benny died unexpectedly. Paula declared the little Khloe a curse and dumped her in an isolated rural orphanage, leaving her to fend for herself without a backward glance.

With Benny gone, the Norris family business spiraled downhill. Desperate to regain status, Paula threw all her ambition into marrying Elsie into the powerful Barnett family.

But fate turned cruel—at least for Paula—when Khloe suddenly reappeared and stole that coveted spot right out from under Elsie. It was a humiliation Paula could never swallow.

So now, when Paula pressed her with that pointed question, Khloe didn't falter. She lifted her chin and replied, "It's done."

Elsie lunged forward, fingers eager and trembling. "Do let me see!"

"No problem." Khloe slipped the clerk's copy from her bag and offered it to them with calm, unhurried hands.

Paula and Elsie bent over the page, their eyes darting straight to the names—Khloe paired with the notorious James. A ripple of smug delight lit their faces.

"Congratulations. Looks like luck's definitely on your side," Paula murmured, giving her shoulder a light, almost performative pat before passing the document back.

Neither one of them bothered masking the glee twisting at their lips. Why would they? Khloe couldn't see any of it anyway.

Khloe folded the paper neatly and tucked it away. "Elsie, grab my wedding dress for me. I'd rather not keep the ceremony waiting."

"Sure thing. I'll bring it over right now." Still intoxicated by the fantasy of becoming Leo's wife in a matter of hours, Elsie hurried off, blissfully unaware that the victory she savored was never going to be hers.

A moment later, Jared and Corrine came over.

"Kiki, how come you're not dressed yet? Leo already headed off to get ready," Jared urged gently, his tone warm as always. He'd never hidden the soft spot he had for Khloe.

"My sister went to grab the dress for me. I'll change in a moment," Khloe answered with quiet courtesy.

Inside the dressing room, Elsie located the garment bag. When she unzipped it, her breath stalled. Gone was the soft pink bridesmaid dress she'd seen last night. In its place hung a lavish white wedding gown—intricate beading, sweeping fabric, and unmistakably bridal weight.

Color drained from her cheeks. Why was it a white wedding gown? Corrine had definitely prepared a pink one for Khloe yesterday. Still… who cared? No matter how elegant her wedding dress was, Khloe would never got to be Leo's bride in it. That role, in Elsie's mind, was hers to claim.