"Marriage is not a game. I never treat my own marriage as something fake," Rob Stark said indifferently. His tone was as casual as if he were simply remarking that the weather was nice.

Chloe Bishop felt that if the situation weren't so serious, she might have laughed out loud. Hearing the words "marriage is not a game" come out of Rob Stark's mouth made the whole situation feel like an absolute joke.

How many times had they actually met? Chloe counted on her fingers—she didn't even need one hand. From the first time she met him when she was seven until now, they had met exactly three times in eighteen years. Aside from their names, they knew nothing about each other. You want to marry a stranger and claim marriage isn't a game? Are you sure you're not kidding?

"Rob Stark, did you take your medicine today?" Chloe blurted out before she could stop herself.

Rob Stark: "..."

He pressed a finger to his temple to soothe a mounting headache. With a rare display of patience, he said, "You need a backer. Marrying me is much safer than a fake engagement. If we marry, you become my wife. In New York, you can walk with your head held high, and no one will dare touch you."

"Why would I want to walk like that? I’m not a bully," Chloe shot back, her mouth once again moving faster than her brain.

Rob Stark: "..."

This time, his temple visibly twitched. He couldn't quite keep his composure.

Of course, the moment the words left her mouth, Chloe regretted them. She bit her lip, desperately wanting to slap herself. Why can't you just keep your mouth shut!

Seeing Rob's face darken, Chloe felt even worse. Just as she was trying to think of a way to salvage the conversation, a knock came from the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

The three soft raps felt like they were pounding against Chloe’s heart, making her jump.

"Come in," Rob said, his face still grim.

An assistant twisted the handle and entered. Before even stepping fully into the room, he felt the icy tension in the air. He stole a glance at Mr. Stark, noticed his dark expression, and immediately became more cautious.

"Mr. Stark," he reminded him carefully, "the car is ready. You need to head to the airport now."

Rob gave a low grunt of affirmation. He stood up, scribbled a string of numbers on a sticky note, tore it off, and walked toward Chloe.

As he approached, Chloe realized just how tall he truly was. Standing at nearly 6'1", his physical presence felt like a heavy weight pressing down on her. His perfectly tailored suit accentuated his physique; he looked like a walking mannequin.

"Take this," Rob said, pausing beside her. As he moved his hand, the diamond cufflink at his wrist caught the light, making Chloe squint. "I’ll be on a business trip for a week. Give me a call when you’ve made up your mind."

Chloe took the note as if possessed, clutching it tightly in her hand.

________________________________________

When Jake Tully dragged his exhausted body home from the law firm, he found Chloe Bishop snuggled comfortably on the sofa. Between her slender fingers, she held one of his brand-new crystal wine glasses, filled with the vintage red wine he had been saving for a special occasion. The bottle on the table was already half empty.

Jake’s heart ached at the sight of his lost treasure.

"Chloe Bishop, you better have a good reason for drinking my wine. If this isn't for a celebration, I’m throwing you off the balcony," Jake yelled, hands on his hips.

Chloe looked up. Her pale face now had a soft, rosy flush from the alcohol, making her look much healthier. The sight instantly drained half of Jake’s anger. Sigh. It’s really hard to stay mad at a face that pretty.

Jake sat down defeatedly and snatched the remaining half-bottle, pouring himself a glass. "So? Did Rob Stark agree to the fake engagement?"

Chloe shook her head like a rattle.

Jake let out a very unladylike curse. "And here I thought you were celebrating. You’re just drinking your sorrows away. Chloe, get a grip! So you got rejected—I never thought he’d agree anyway."

"Actually," Chloe said solemnly, nodding her small head, "he said marriage isn't a game and shouldn't be used as a bargaining chip. So, after 'careful consideration,' he said we should just get married."

Pfft!

The wine Jake had just sipped sprayed right back out.

"Cough... cough!" Jake sputtered and choked for a good while before managed to gasp out, "Chloe... you’re not drunk, are you?"

"You know my tolerance better than anyone," Chloe Bishop countered.

Jake Tully raised a hand in surrender. "Fine, half a bottle won’t get you drunk. But does that mean Rob Stark is the one who's crazy? Before today, he probably didn't even remember who Chloe Bishop was. And he says marriage isn't a game? Marrying a literal stranger is the definition of playing games."

"Hmm..." Chloe thought for a moment. "Based on my years of observing psychiatric patients, Rob Stark doesn't seem like his brain is malfunctioning. Besides, it really felt like he made the proposal after careful consideration. Let me think... he was silent for about ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Jake rolled his eyes. "Well, for a CEO whose time is worth millions every minute, spending ten minutes to contemplate marriage is practically an eternity. That’s 'careful consideration' for him, I guess."

Chloe felt the same way; otherwise, she wouldn't have used the word "serious" to describe those ten minutes of silence.

"So, what about you? Did you agree?" Jake calmed down and took another sip of wine.

"I don't know if I should. From a practical standpoint, marrying him is the choice that maximizes my interests," Chloe admitted.

As her best friend for over twenty years, Jake didn't need her to say the rest. Having witnessed the suffering and torment Chloe had endured over the past five years, Jake knew that marrying Rob Stark was, logically, her best option.

"Whatever choice you make, I’ll support you," Jake said, pulling his friend into a hug. "This time, Chloe, I promise I will help you overturn your case. I will wash away every drop of dirty water they ever threw on you."

Chloe’s eyelashes fluttered for just a second before her expression returned to normal. In that brief moment, her resolve hardened. She downed the rest of her wine in one go and, with a voice laced with the scent of alcohol, said, "Jake, help me prepare two more agreements."

________________________________________

The next day, Chloe Bishop slept until the sun was high in the sky. After waking up, she got ready and took the agreements Jake Tully had rushed to draft overnight. She hailed a taxi to the famous Lakeside Villa District on the outskirts of New York.

Though she hadn't been here in five years, she had lived here for ten. As she walked down the familiar path to a specific villa, she couldn't help but marvel at how sharp her memory remained.

She rang the doorbell, and a maid quickly came to answer. The woman was a stranger and didn't recognize Chloe. She looked Chloe up and down, seemingly trying to judge her status based on her clothes.

However, Chloe was a disappointment to her. Today, she was wearing an outfit she had made herself five years ago—it was worlds away from the style of a wealthy socialite.

"Can I help you? Who are you looking for?" Judging that Chloe wasn't anyone important, the maid’s attitude turned dismissive, carrying a hint of condescension.

"David Bishop," Chloe stated. "I’m looking for David Bishop."

"You’re looking for the Lord?" The maid was surprised. "Do you have an appointment? The Lord doesn't just see anyone who wanders by." Hearing that the girl wanted to see the man of the house, the maid grew suspicious.

Chloe let out a cold laugh. Losing the patience to argue, she pushed past the maid and stepped into the villa.

The maid froze for a second before reacting with a loud shout. "Hey! How can you be so rude? You can’t just barge into someone’s home! Get out of here right now, or I’ll have the bodyguards throw you out!"

The maid’s shouting attracted the other staff members and the security detail. Almost as soon as she finished her sentence, several bodyguards in black suits blocked Chloe’s path.

"Miss, please leave," one bodyguard said. He was relatively polite, but his tone carried a clear warning.

Chloe looked at the gathered staff with an expressionless face. Not a single face was familiar. It seemed that over the last five years, the Bishop Family’s old staff had been systematically replaced. In this house, there was no longer anyone who knew that Chloe Bishop was the rightful eldest daughter of the home.

"What’s all this noise? Don't you know the Lord is in a video conference?" Amidst the standoff, a scolding female voice drifted down from the staircase.

The maid who had opened the door, fearing she would be scolded for the intrusion, was quick to tattle. "Madam, this woman forced her way in despite my best efforts to stop her. She insists on seeing the Lord."

"What wom—" Lyana Stark’s sentence cut off halfway. The moment she saw Chloe Bishop, her pupils constricted in sheer shock as if she had seen a ghost. The tray in her hands slipped from her grasp.

Crash!

The sound of teacups shattering against the floor pierced the air. Chloe turned a cold, elegant gaze toward Lyana, looking exactly as she had fifteen years ago—back when Lyana first married into the Bishop Family.

"You..." It took Lyana a long moment to find her voice. "When did you get out? How did you get out? Who gave you permission to leave?"

"Heh..." A cold smirk played on Chloe’s lips, her eyes filled with a calm, taunting amusement. "When you're cured, you can leave. Isn't that what you all said when you dragged me there in the first place?"

Lyana’s eyes widened. Yes, those were their words, but how could Chloe Bishop possibly be cured? Wasn't she supposed to stay in that place forever, branded a mental patient for the rest of her life? Why was she out, and why had no one notified the Bishop Family?

"What’s going on? What is all this noise?" Amidst Lyana’s daze, her husband’s voice rang out. Her heart skipped a beat out of sudden, inexplicable guilt.

Chloe let out a dry laugh, her voice dripping with irony. "Director Bishop, you seem even busier than you were five years ago. Getting an audience with you is like trying to reach the heavens."

David Bishop froze mid-stride. He hurried forward, and when he saw Chloe’s small face, his pupils constricted just as Lyana’s had. His first words were almost instinctive: "How did you get out?"

The same question. Coming from Lyana Stark, it felt insulting and gave Chloe a flicker of vengeful satisfaction. But hearing it from her own biological father made her chest feel tight, accompanied by a dull, throbbing ache.

Realizing he had misspoken, David Bishop quickly tried to backtrack. "What I meant was... if you were recovered, why didn't the doctors notify me? I would have come to pick you up and bring you home."

At those words, the maids in the room gasped in unison.

Father?

They all turned their eyes toward Chloe, their gazes shifting instantly. This girl, who looked to be in her mid-twenties, was actually their Lord’s daughter? They had worked as maids for the Bishop Family for five years, yet they had never heard a whisper about another daughter.

"Do I even have a father? I suppose the doctors forgot," Chloe thought with a cold internal laugh. If they had known she was leaving, would she have ever made it out? Every single one of them wished she would just rot in that hospital.

Looking at his daughter’s face—a face that felt more like a stranger’s than it had five years ago—David Bishop took a deep breath to steady his emotions. "As long as you're well, that's what matters. You’re home now. I’ll have your Aunt Lyana redecorate your room for you."

Lyana Stark’s eyelid twitched. She forced a stiff smile. "Yes, Chloe. Your father has been looking forward to your return. I’ll have the maids tidy up a room for you right away. You’ve been away for so many years, and the house was fully renovated two years ago. Your old room hasn't been set up yet."

Whether it "hadn't been set up" or simply didn't exist anymore, Chloe knew the truth. Renovating the house out of the blue was just a convenient excuse to throw out all her belongings. The old staff must have been replaced then too—otherwise, how could no one know the Bishop Family had a daughter?

"Lyana Stark, you really don't need to guard against me like I’m a thief, and you certainly don't need to put on this fake act for Director Bishop. I have no intention of moving back. I’m here to talk business with the Director—assuming a busy man like him can spare a moment for a 'nobody' like me."

Chloe’s tone was biting. She didn't just expose Lyana’s hypocrisy; she aimed a sharp barb at David Bishop as well.

Being called out so directly made Lyana’s face turn pale instantly. "You!"

"I don't have time for your games. Save your sweet-talking for Director Bishop; he’s the one who falls for it," Chloe said with a thin smile, feeling a sharp sense of relief.