Emily Parker had officially decided: humans were inefficient. Especially men. Dating was exhausting. Love was optional. Emotional labor was forbidden. And yet, the universe insisted that she marry within three months. Her aunt's ultimatum was a looming specter she could not ignore.

After surviving five disastrous blind dates in one week, Emily realized something crucial: if she wanted a husband without the inconvenience of love, courtship, or human interaction, she needed a shortcut.

A shortcut that didn't exist-at least, not in polite society.

That evening, Emily curled up on her couch with her laptop and a large tub of ice cream. She opened a private browser window and typed: "contract marriage agencies" into the search bar. The results were... surprisingly plentiful.

Some promised temporary marriages for inheritance purposes. Some for citizenship. Some explicitly for convenience and mutual benefit. One even claimed: "Marriages with zero emotional entanglement, maximum discretion, and guaranteed legal coverage."

Emily nearly spat out her ice cream. Zero emotional entanglement. That was her dream, printed in bold on a webpage with tasteful colors and minimal frills. She clicked in eagerly.

The website was sleek, almost intimidatingly professional. Photos of luxurious homes, elegantly dressed couples, and anonymous smiling faces filled the screen. Each section promised discreet handling, fully customizable contracts, and a staff of "consultants" who would pair clients with perfect, mutually beneficial partners.

Emily scrolled slowly, savoring each paragraph as though it were a delicacy. She had officially found the solution.

Step one: contact the agency.

---

The next morning, Emily called the number on the website. A calm, professional voice answered.

"Contract Marriage Agency, how may I assist you?"

Emily cleared her throat. "Yes. I... am interested in a marriage. Temporary. No love. No... complications."

The voice paused, then a faint smile could be heard through the phone. "Of course. We specialize in mutually beneficial arrangements. May I have your name?"

"Emily Parker," she said, adding quickly, "but I write under a pen name."

"E.P. Vale?" the consultant asked smoothly.

Emily blinked. "Uh... yes. That's me."

"Very well," the consultant said. "We'll need some details about your preferences, lifestyle, and goals."

Emily listed them carefully:

Must not require love, emotional investment, or significant household responsibilities. Check.

Must be wealthy. Check.

Must be disposable afterward. Check.

Must respect privacy. Check.

The consultant nodded silently on the other end, as though taking notes with clinical precision. "We have several potential candidates. You may review their profiles, but in-person meetings are optional if you prefer discretion."

Emily felt her heartbeat slow. She didn't like human interaction. She didn't like surprises. She did like efficiency. This was perfect.

---

That afternoon, Emily received a secure email from the agency. Inside were profiles of men available for contract marriages. Each profile included photos, a summary of wealth, lifestyle, and personal boundaries. There were ratings for "commitment expectation," "emotional demand," and "disposability."

Emily scanned the profiles like a scientist reviewing experimental subjects. Some were boringly perfect-handsome, rich, polite, but utterly uninspiring. Others were risky-eccentric billionaires, aloof artists, mysterious tycoons. A few names sounded vaguely familiar.

One in particular made her pause.

Adrian Vale.

The name rang a bell she couldn't place. Not because it was her pen name exactly, but because the surname felt... familiar. Emily shook her head. No time for nostalgia. She would decide logically, not sentimentally.

The profile read:

Age: 32

Occupation: CEO of a global conglomerate

Wealth: Billion-dollar empire

Emotional demand: Extremely low

Privacy: Absolute discretion guaranteed

Emily paused, fingers hovering over the mouse. Wealth: check. Privacy: check. Emotional demand: check.

She clicked "request match."

---

The agency replied within minutes.

"Candidate Adrian Vale is available. Signing the contract will confirm your arrangement. All terms are negotiable before finalization."

Emily skimmed the contract template. Legal jargon sprawled across the page like an incomprehensible labyrinth. She squinted at terms: duration, responsibilities, living arrangements, financial settlements. It was dense, but one line caught her eye:

"The client agrees to marry the designated partner under mutually agreed contractual terms, with provisions for dissolution."

Emily sighed in relief. Dissolution. Divorce. Check. Safety net intact.

Without reading too carefully, she clicked "Sign."

A pop-up confirmed: Contract finalized. Partner assigned: Adrian Vale.

She leaned back in her chair, sighing deeply in relief. Her life was finally back to normal.

And somewhere else-far away, in a penthouse she had never seen-Adrian Vale looked at his phone and smiled.

He had been waiting for this moment for years.

---

Emily spent the rest of the day researching the agency's other clients, double-checking terms, and mentally preparing for the eventual divorce. She tried to imagine what Adrian Vale looked like in person. Towering? Serious? Possibly terrifying? Perfectly fine, most likely. Disposable, absolutely.

She ordered dinner, scrolled her phone, and then stared at the ceiling.

This was it. The first step in her plan: marry, survive, divorce, live lazily ever after.

She had no idea she had just stepped onto a path that would make all her previous calculations laughably inadequate.

Emily Parker smiled.

The contract marriage agency had delivered efficiency, discretion, and legal protection. And in her mind, that was all that mattered.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans.

Emily Parker had done it. She had successfully executed the first step of her master plan: secure a husband without love, emotional labor, or excessive inconvenience. She leaned back on her couch, a smug smile tugging at her lips, ready to congratulate herself with another bowl of ice cream.

Then she remembered.

Adrian Vale.

The name wasn't just on the contract-it was written in bold on the confirmation email she had mindlessly skimmed and clicked "accept." Her stomach twisted slightly as the reality hit. She was married. Legally, and to a man she had never met in person. And not just any man, but a reclusive CEO of a global billion-dollars empire. The kind of man who probably ate stock certificates for breakfast and casually owned entire city blocks.

Emily blinked at her laptop screen. This had to be a joke. Surely the agency had made a clerical error. She refreshed the page, thinking the words would vanish. They didn't.

She swallowed. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no. I didn't plan for this."

Emily Parker's life had officially gone from comfortably lazy to terrifyingly complicated in the span of thirty seconds.

---

The next morning, Emily woke up late, as usual, but with a growing sense of dread gnawing at her. Her apartment felt smaller, her room darker, the air heavier. She tried to shake it off. After all, she had plans, spreadsheets, and a legally binding contract. What could go wrong?

Her phone buzzed with a new notification. It was from the contract agency.

Agency: Your partner, Mr. Adrian Vale, will contact you to discuss preliminary arrangements. Please respond at your earliest convenience.

Emily stared at the message. Her first instinct was to ignore it. Her second instinct was to delete her email account entirely. But rational Emily, the one who thrived on planning, reminded herself: you can't run from a contract.

Taking a deep breath, she tapped the reply button.

Understood.

No exclamation points. No smiley faces. No indication of panic. Just one word.

---

Hours later, a call came through. Emily's phone screen lit up: Adrian Vale.

Her heart skipped. Not from romance. From sheer terror.

"Hello?" she said, voice unsteady despite her best efforts.

"Good afternoon, Emily Parker," a calm, deep voice said on the other end. Perfectly modulated, slightly amused. "I trust you have received the contract?"

"Yes," Emily said, fidgeting with her hoodie strings. "I... I signed."

"Excellent," Adrian replied. There was a pause, then he added, casually, "I look forward to meeting you in person."

Emily's stomach flipped. "In person? Uh... sure. Yes. Of course."

She hung up immediately after, breathing heavily. Her apartment felt unbearably small again, suffocating her with the reality of what she had just done. She needed ice cream. Again.

---

Over the next few days, Emily oscillated between panic, denial, and frantic planning. She calculated every possible scenario: a fake meeting, a staged disagreement, a public scandal. All designed to ensure the divorce went smoothly and efficiently.

She drafted plans, contingency plans, and backup plans. She considered moving out temporarily, changing her phone number, even renting a separate apartment under a pseudonym. All logical, all meticulously detailed.

---

The agency contacted her again, arranging the first meeting. Emily had spent hours researching Adrian Vale online, combing through news articles, interviews, and vague social media mentions. Every piece of information confirmed one terrifying fact: he was powerful, wealthy, and utterly inscrutable.

She dressed carefully for the meeting, not out of romance or vanity, but strategy. She chose neutral colors, minimal jewelry, and practical shoes. Her hair was pulled back efficiently. She rehearsed her tone: polite, detached, noncommittal.

When she arrived at the luxurious office building, the doorman gave her a knowing glance. She passed through security, heart pounding, until she reached a glass elevator that ascended silently to the top floor.

---

Adrian Vale was waiting. Calm. Composed. Exuding the kind of presence that made the world feel smaller around him. Emily's mouth went dry as she stepped into the office.

"Emily Parker," he said, standing as she approached. His handshake was firm, confident, and strangely warm. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Emily forced a polite smile. "Likewise."

They sat across from each other at a sleek, glass conference table. Adrian spoke minimally, asking questions about her expectations, boundaries, and lifestyle. Emily answered with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. Every word calculated, every gesture measured.

She left nothing to chance.

---

And yet... something about Adrian unsettled her. Not his wealth. Not his power. Something else. A familiarity she couldn't place. A sense that this was not the first time they had crossed paths.

But Emily didn't dwell on it. Emotional speculation was dangerous. Her plan was simple: marry, survive, divorce, live freely. Adrian Vale would be a name on a contract, nothing more.

After the meeting, Emily returned to her apartment, exhausted but triumphant. She had navigated the first encounter without compromising her principles. She poured herself a glass of wine, sat down, and opened her laptop.

Her eyes caught on her pen name: E.P. Vale.

A strange thought flickered. Vale... Why did that name feel... familiar?

She shook her head. Dismissing it. No time for reflection. She had plans to execute, spreadsheets to finalize, ice cream to finish.

And somewhere, far away, Adrian Vale smiled at his own screen, silently noting every detail of their meeting, every word she had spoken, and every flicker of emotion she had tried to hide.

For him, this was no contract. This was the beginning of a pursuit that had started long ago.

Emily Parker had no idea.

And that, of course, was exactly how he wanted it.

Emily Parker decided that lying was a skill.

And like all skills, it required confidence.

She sat on her couch with her phone balanced against her knee, scrolling aimlessly while rehearsing her tone in her head. Calm. Casual. Slightly smug. The tone of someone whose life was definitely not on the verge of implosion.

Her aunt would be calling any minute now.

As if summoned by thought alone, Emily's phone rang.

Aunt Lin.

Emily answered on the third ring. Not too eager. Not too distant.

"Hello, Auntie," she said lightly.

"I heard nothing from you after I left," Aunt Lin said without greeting. "Have you thought about what I said?"

"Yes," Emily replied smoothly. "And you don't need to worry anymore."

A pause.

"Oh?" Aunt Lin said. "Why is that?"

Emily smiled.

"Because I'm engaged."

Silence.

Not the shocked kind. Not the excited kind.

The dangerous kind.

"You're what?" Aunt Lin asked slowly.

"Engaged," Emily repeated, unfazed. "I told you I had a plan."

Another pause. Emily could practically hear the mental abacus clicking on the other end of the line.

"To whom?" Aunt Lin asked.

Emily didn't hesitate. "His name is Adrian."

She had practiced this.

"Adrian what?"

"...Vale."

The name tasted strange in her mouth. Too heavy. Too real.

Aunt Lin said nothing for a long moment.

Emily leaned back against the couch, crossing her legs, projecting ease she didn't entirely feel.

"He works in finance," Emily continued casually. "We met through... connections."

"What kind of connections?"

"Adult ones," Emily said without thinking.

Silence again.

Emily winced. "I mean-professional. Networking."

"I see," Aunt Lin said flatly. "How old is he?"

"Early thirties."

"Family background?"

"Good."

"Job stability?"

"Extremely stable."

Aunt Lin exhaled sharply. "You expect me to believe this appeared overnight?"

Emily shrugged, though her aunt couldn't see it. "Sometimes things move fast."

"Marriage is not fast," Aunt Lin said. "Marriage is serious."

Emily resisted the urge to laugh.

"Yes," she said solemnly. "Very serious."

"Then prove it."

Emily's smile froze.

"Prove... what?"

"That you're engaged," Aunt Lin said. "I want proof."

Emily's brain went into overdrive.

Proof.

Rings. Photos. Parents. Documents.

She had planned for none of these.

"What kind of proof?" Emily asked carefully.

"I want to meet him," Aunt Lin said. "And I want to see registration papers."

Emily's heart skipped.

"Registration papers?"

"Yes," Aunt Lin replied impatiently. "An engagement registered properly leads to marriage. If you're serious, there should be paperwork."

Emily laughed lightly, hoping humor would save her. "Auntie, you're jumping ahead. There's no registration for engagement. Only marriage "

"Exactly" Aunt Lin said. "I'm asking you to register your marriage"

The line went dead.

Emily stared at her phone.

"...Shit."

---

Emily spent the next hour pacing her apartment.

She rehearsed lies.

She imagined fake documents.

She even Googled "marriage registration" and quickly regretted it.

Too many steps. Too much verification. Too much effort.

"This is fine," she muttered, pacing. "I'll just... delay."

Her phone buzzed again.

Aunt Lin: I will come with you to register next week.

Emily stopped pacing.

Register.

With her.

Her gaze drifted slowly to her laptop.

To her email.

To the folder she had deliberately ignored since signing the contract.

A bad feeling settled in her stomach.

"No," she whispered.

She opened the agency's email.

Scrolled.

Scrolled more.

Her eyes caught on a line she had skimmed past before:

"Legal marriage registration has been completed in accordance with national regulations."

Emily blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"What?"

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled further down.

Attached was a document.

A marriage certificate.

Emily's vision blurred.

"No," she said faintly. "No, no, no-this was a clerical mistake."

She opened the document.

Names.

Dates.

Stamps.

Her name.

Emily Parker.

Spouse:

Adrian Vale.

Legally married.

Already.

Her knees gave out. She collapsed onto the couch, staring at the screen like it might rearrange itself out of pity.

"This wasn't supposed to be real," she whispered.

She remembered the contract.

The dense clauses.

The phrase "binding upon execution."

Her laughter bubbled up, sharp and hysterical.

"I'm married," she said out loud. "I'm actually married."

To a billionaire.

Without a wedding.

Without meeting his parents.

Without telling her aunt.

Her phone rang again.

Aunt Lin.

Emily answered weakly.

"Well?" Aunt Lin demanded. "When are we going?"

Emily swallowed.

"There's... no need," she said slowly.

"Why?"

"Because," Emily said, staring at the certificate, "I'm already married."

Silence.

"What did you say?"

Emily exhaled. "I signed the papers already. Legally."

Another long pause.

"You registered... without telling me?" Aunt Lin asked, incredulous.

Emily winced. "It happened quickly."

"Where?"

"In the city."

"To whom?"

"...Adrian Vale."

This time, the silence stretched so long Emily thought the call had dropped.

Finally, Aunt Lin spoke.

"Bring the documents," she said. "I want to see them. And come with your supposed husband "

The call ended.

Emily dropped the phone onto the couch.

Her chest felt tight.

This wasn't a lie she could undo.

This wasn't an engagement she could fabricate.

This was real.

Binding.

Permanent-at least for now.

She buried her face in her hands.

"This was supposed to be easy," she muttered.

Her phone buzzed again.

A new message.

Adrian Vale: Would it be convenient for you to visit my family with me during the weekend?

Emily stared at the screen.

Slowly.

Her blood ran cold.

Family?

Why was she meeting family?

Aunt Lin, Adrian Vale, her perfect life was crumbling down.

Emily Parker lifted her head, dread settling deep in her bones.

This wasn't a clerical mistake.

This wasn't temporary convenience.

She wasn't engaged.

She was already a wife.

And her aunt was about to find out.