jessica woke the next morning with her head buried under a pillow, groaning at the memory of last night.

"What was I thinking?" she mumbled into the sheets. "Chicken feet? Horror dolls? Another date with a hotter guy?!"

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling of her tiny studio apartment. The sound of traffic buzzed outside, mingling with the faint smell of fried chicken wafting up from the restaurant below.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Sophia.

Sophia: How did it go? Did you scare him off?

Jessica groaned louder. "I don't even know! He didn't storm out. He laughed at me. Laughed!"

Jessica: Your plan failed. He's... weird.

A reply came almost instantly.

Sophia: Weird how?

Jessica sat up, fingers flying across the screen.

Jessica: He didn't get mad when I was rude. He actually smiled. I think he liked it.

There was a long pause before Sophia replied.

Sophia: Uh oh.

"Uh oh? What do you mean, 'uh oh'?!" Jessica shouted at her phone.

But before she could demand clarification, her alarm blared, reminding her she had to rush to work. At Go Food. At the company where she was a researcher.

The company whose brand-new CEO she had just mocked, insulted, and abandoned at a hotel lobby.

Of course, she didn't know that. Yet.

The Go Food headquarters buzzed with tension that morning. Employees whispered in corners, straightened their ties, and adjusted their blouses as though preparing for judgment day.

"The new CEO is here," someone whispered near Jessica's desk. "He's in his office right now."

"I heard he studied abroad in the U.S.," another said. "And he's young. Ruthless, too."

Jessica tried to focus on her research reports, but her nerves buzzed. She had stayed out late, drunk too much wine, and now her head pounded. The last thing she needed was a demanding new boss breathing down her neck.

Then the elevator chimed.

All heads turned.

Ethan Maverick stepped out, tall and sharp in a tailored suit, exuding authority with every stride. His assistant, Rian Johnson, followed close behind, holding a stack of files.

Jessica 's pen froze in her hand. Her stomach plummeted.

It was him.

The blind date. The man she'd tried to scare off.

She nearly choked on her own breath, ducking her head behind her monitor. No way. No, no, no way. This is a nightmare.

"Good morning, everyone," Jessica said, his voice calm but commanding. "I'll be meeting each department this week. I expect efficiency."

His gaze swept the room like a searchlight. Jessica shrank lower in her chair, praying he wouldn't notice her.

But his eyes didn't linger. He passed by without a flicker of recognition.

Jessica let out a shaky sigh of relief. Maybe-just maybe-he hadn't recognized her under the harsh office lighting.

But then, as Ethan disappeared into his office, his lips curled into the faintest smirk.

He had recognized her. And he wasn't going to let her off so easily.

Inside his office, Ethan stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking out at the skyline. Rian placed a folder on his desk.

"You really intend to go through with this?" Rian asked carefully.

"Yes," Ethan said without hesitation. "I'm going to marry her."

Rian blinked. "Miss Sophia Wilson?"

Ethan's jaw tightened slightly. "That's who she claims to be. Regardless, she's the one."

Rian frowned. "You've only met her once. And you've already decided to marry?"

"I don't have time to waste," Ethan replied curtly. "My grandfather won't stop arranging blind dates until I settle down. If I marry her, the problem is solved. She's unpredictable, different from the others. She won't bore me."

Rian studied his boss quietly. "You seemed... entertained by her."

A faint smile touched Ethan's lips. "Exactly. She's the first woman who hasn't tried to impress me. In fact, she did the opposite. That alone makes her useful."

"Useful," Rian repeated with a sigh. "Does she know about this plan?"

"She will."

Ethan turned back to the window, eyes glinting with resolve. He had made up his mind. And when Ethan Maverick made a decision, nothing stopped him.

Later that afternoon, Jessica was in the cafeteria with her coworkers, poking at her lunch tray nervously. She kept her head down, praying she wouldn't run into Ethan again.

"Have you seen him up close?" one colleague whispered. "He's so handsome it's scary."

"Handsome? He's terrifying! He doesn't even blink!"

Jessica forced a laugh, though her stomach was still in knots. If anyone found out what she had done last night, she'd be doomed.

"Excuse me."

The cafeteria fell silent.

Jessica froze. That voice. That unmistakable deep, commanding voice.

She looked up slowly, dreading what she'd see.

Ethan stood there, perfectly composed, his gaze locked on her. Around them, coworkers gawked, whispering furiously.

"You," he said simply.

Her chopsticks slipped from her fingers, clattering onto her tray. "M-me?"

"Yes." He didn't break eye contact. "Let's talk."

He walked away, not waiting to see if she followed. The entire cafeteria stared at her in stunned silence.

Heart pounding, legs trembling, Jessica forced herself to stand and follow him out.

They ended up in a quiet corridor. Jessica turned, expression unreadable.

"Miss Sophia Wilson," he said smoothly, though his eyes gleamed with hidden amusement, "I'll be direct. Let's get married."

The world tilted. Jessica's mouth fell open.

"M-married?!" she squeaked.

Ethan's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Yes. You'll be my wife."

Jessica's vision swam. Her plan to scare him off had backfired spectacularly.

And thus began the disaster of her life.

Jessica's brain is completely short-circuited. Married? He said married. To her. The same girl who had pretended to be her best friend, the same girl who had made a fool of herself babbling about horror dolls and chicken feet.

She forced a laugh, waving her hands. "M-marriage? Oh, that's... that's hilarious! You're joking, right? Because who proposes after one date? Nobody does that!"

Ethan Maverick expression didn't shift an inch. His jawline looked carved from stone, his eyes sharp as blades. "I'm not joking."

Her laughter died in her throat. She stared at him, wide-eyed, while he continued with deadly seriousness.

"My grandfather is relentless. He's been forcing blind dates on me for years. You are different. You don't simper, you don't flatter, and you don't bore me. That's why you're perfect."

Perfect? Jessica felt her knees weaken. This was not part of the plan.

"Mr. Ethan, I think you're making a mistake-"

"I don't make mistakes," he cut her off smoothly. "And I don't waste time. I'll have my assistant prepare the necessary paperwork."

Paperwork. Of course, the man saw marriage as a contract to be signed, like a business deal.

Jessica gaped at him. "You're insane."

"Efficient," he corrected calmly.

She pressed her palms against her face, suppressing a groan. How was she supposed to get out of this without ruining her life-or revealing her real identity?

The moment Ha-ri escaped the office corridor, she sprinted to the bathroom, locking herself into a stall before dialing Sophia's number with trembling fingers.

Her best friend picked up cheerfully. "So? Crisis averted?"

"Crisis?!" Jessica screeched, her voice echoing in the tiled room. "He asked me to marry him!"

There was a stunned silence, followed by a shriek so loud Jessica yanked the phone away from her ear.

"What?! You're kidding!"

"I'm not! He's serious! He said I'm perfect and he'll have his assistant draft paperwork. Paperwork Sophia! Who even does that?!"

Sophia groaned. "Oh my god, Jessica. This is worse than I imagined. My father will kill me if he finds out. And if Ethan discovers you're not me-"

"He'll fire me. Or sue me. Or both!" Ha-ri moaned, clutching her head.

They sat in silence for a beat, the weight of the disaster sinking in.

Finally, Sophia muttered, "You have to reject him."

"I already tried! He doesn't listen!"

"Then we'll come up with a plan. Just stall him for now. Whatever you do, don't sign anything!"

Jessica slumped against the stall wall, muttering, "Easy for you to say..."

That evening, Ethan Maverick visited his grandfather, Chairman Maverick, in the sprawling family mansion. The elder Maverick was a man of imposing presence despite his age, with a booming laugh that filled the grand hall.

"You've finally chosen someone?" the chairman said, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Yes," Ethan answered simply.

"Tell me about her."

"She's unlike anyone else. Bold. Unpredictable."

The chairman chuckled. "Sounds like she already has you hooked."

Ethan frowned faintly. "Hooked? No. I'm simply making the most efficient decision. She won't waste my time."

Chairman Maverick clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Arrange a family dinner immediately. I must meet this young lady who finally captured my grandson's attention."

For the first time, a flicker of unease crossed Ethan's face. He had no idea just how complicated this was about to become.

The next day at work, Jessica tried her best to avoid Ethan, ducking behind filing cabinets and faking errands to other floors. But it was impossible to escape forever.

Just before lunch, Rian appeared at her desk, his expression unreadable. "Miss Jessica Robert. The president requests your presence."

Her coworkers' heads whipped around in unison, eyes wide with shock and curiosity.

Jessica's heart pounded. She stood shakily, following Rian to the CEO's office.

Inside, Jessica sat behind his massive desk, reviewing documents as though the fate of nations rested on his pen strokes. He looked up when she entered, his gaze pinning her in place.

"I've spoken with my grandfather," he said evenly. "He wishes to meet you. Tonight."

Jessica's jaw dropped. "T-tonight?!"

"Yes. I'll pick you up at seven."

Her stomach plummeted. Meeting the chairman was a death sentence. If the lie unraveled, her career-and her family's fried chicken shop-would go up in flames.

She plastered on a shaky smile. "Mr. Ethan, don't you think we're... rushing things?"

Ethan's lips curved in a faint, dangerous smile. "On the contrary. I hate wasting time."

Jessica wanted to scream.

And so, against her will, the stage was set for disaster number two: dinner with the chairman.

Jessica's apartment looked like a clothing store had exploded inside it. Blouses dangled from lampshades, skirts were draped across chairs, and one of her sneakers had somehow ended up in the fruit basket on the kitchen counter.

"I'm dead. I'm so, so dead," she muttered, throwing another rejected dress onto the growing mountain on her bed. She stood in front of the mirror, hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing mismatched socks and a t-shirt that said I Hate Mondays. "This is the end of me. Jessica Robert, daughter of a fried chicken shop owner, dies not from stress, but from fashion suicide."

Her best friend, Sophia, was sprawled lazily on the bed amidst the chaos, sipping an iced Americano as though nothing was wrong. She wore yoga pants, an oversized hoodie, and an expression of irritating calm.

"You're overreacting," Sophia said, waving her straw casually. "Just pick one of my dresses. You'll look fine."

"Fine?" Jessica spun around, wild-eyed. "I'm about to meet the chairman of Go Food, Sophia! Ethan Maverick's grandfather! The man who could fire me-or worse-if he figures out I'm a fraud pretending to be you! Fine won't cut it! I need to look like I belong in his world!"

Sophia shrugged. "You belong just fine if you act like you do. Confidence is everything. Clothes are just decoration."

Jessica let out a strangled groan and collapsed onto the floor, hugging a sequin dress to her chest. "I can't do this. He'll see through me in five seconds. He'll ask about investments, or wine, or golf courses. What if he asks about my family?!"

"Then lie." sophia took another sip, utterly unbothered.

Jessica rolled her eyes so hard they almost stuck. "Easy for you to say, rich girl. I don't even know how to use half the cutlery they serve in chaebol mansions. Forks should be one size. Knives should be one size. Why do they need six?!"

Sophia sat up finally, setting her coffee aside. Her expression softened. "jessica, listen. You're smart. You're funny. And you're not boring. Trust me, Ethan Maverick's grandfather will love you."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of!" Jessica cried, tossing the sequin dress at her.

With a sigh, Sophia marched over to her wardrobe, pulled out a simple but elegant ivory dress with soft lace trim, and shoved it into Jessica's arms. "Wear this. It's classy but not over the top. Pair it with nude heels and that little clutch I bought in Paris. You'll look like money, but approachable money."

Jessica held the dress up doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now put it on before I lose patience and go myself."

Jessica's shoulders slumped. "Sometimes I think you enjoy torturing me."

Sophia smirked. "Sometimes? Sweetie, always."

At exactly seven o'clock sharp, a sleek black sedan rolled to a stop in front of Jessica's modest apartment building. The polished chrome gleamed under the streetlamps, and even the neighbors paused on the sidewalk to gawk at the car that looked like it belonged in a CEO's driveway.

Jessica ,standing just inside the front door, felt her knees wobble. She clutched the borrowed clutch to her chest like a lifeline. Her ivory dress fit like a dream, her hair fell in soft waves, and her makeup had taken nearly an hour to get just right. On the outside, she might have looked elegant. On the inside, she was a roiling storm of panic.

The back door of the sedan opened, and out stepped Ethan Maverick.

He was impossibly tall, his suit a perfect charcoal tailored so precisely it must have cost more than her yearly rent. His hair was styled immaculately, his features sharp enough to cut glass. He moved with a kind of quiet authority that made the whole street seem to hush in his presence.

When his eyes landed on her, they narrowed slightly.

"You're late," he said in that smooth, clipped tone that brooked no argument.

Jessica blinked. "What? It's exactly seven!" She whipped out her phone, as if time itself would defend her.

He glanced at the device, then back at her, lips curving faintly. "I don't like waiting. Even for a minute."

Heat crept up her neck. Who complained about a single minute? She bit back a retort, instead forcing a polite smile. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I?"

Jessica didn't answer. Instead, he stepped forward and opened the car door with a gentlemanly gesture that somehow felt more like a command.

"After you," he said.

She hesitated only a second before sliding into the leather interior, which smelled faintly of cedar and money. The moment she sat down, her nerves tightened like a coil.

This wasn't a date anymore. This was war.

The Maverick family mansion was less a house and more a palace. Marble columns stretched toward the high ceilings, crystal chandeliers glittered like captured starlight, and oil paintings of solemn-looking ancestors stared down at her from gilded frames.

Jessica felt like a burglar caught trespassing.

Ethan guided her into the grand dining hall, where a long table stretched across the polished floor. At the head sat Chairman Maverick ,a man whose presence dominated the room despite his age. His silver hair gleamed under the lights, and his eyes twinkled with an intelligence that missed nothing.

"So this is the young lady," the chairman boomed, rising to greet her. His voice echoed warmly, like thunder in the distance.

Jessica bowed deeply. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

"Come, sit," he said, motioning her to a chair beside him. "Let us eat."

The first course was served, each dish delicate and artful, accompanied by an array of silverware that looked like an exam waiting to be failed. Jessica stared at the place setting, silently panicking over which fork to use first.

"Miss Wilson," Chairman Maverick began, his eyes sharp but kind. "Tell me about yourself."

Her mind went blank. All the lies Sophia had fed her vanished. The silence stretched unbearably until, in a moment of blind desperation, she blurted, "I... love horror dolls. And chicken feet."

The table went dead silent. Even Ethan froze, his pen poised over a glass of wine as if he'd misheard.

Jessica wanted to crawl under the table and die.

But then the chairman's booming laugh filled the room. "Horror dolls and chicken feet! Ha! What a pair of hobbies. No wonder my grandson is intrigued."

Jessica let out a shaky laugh, pretending confidence while Ethan's eyes bored into her with silent fury. She could practically hear his thoughts: What nonsense are you spewing?

Still, she pressed on, determined to play her role. "Yes, well... I believe a person's interests should be... diverse."

Chairman Maverick chuckled again, clearly amused. "Excellent answer! You are refreshingly unusual, Miss Wilson."

Jessica sipped her wine to hide her trembling hands, praying the ground would swallow her whole.

As the meal progressed, something unexpected happened.

Chairman Maverick leaned closer, his tone softening. "You remind me of my late wife. She had the same spark in her eyes, the same way of speaking her mind no matter what others thought. It drove me mad sometimes, but it also kept me alive."

Jessica blinked, touched by the sincerity in his gaze. For a fleeting moment, the weight of her lie lifted. She wasn't pretending to be someone else; she was just being herself-awkward, impulsive, and oddly endearing.

"Thank you, sir," she murmured, her smile trembling but genuine. "That... means more than you know."

Chairman Maverick patted her hand warmly. "You'll bring life back into this cold house. I can see it already."

Across the table, Ethan's jaw tightened. He was unused to seeing his grandfather so open, so charmed. And the fact that it was her who drew out that reaction unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

He didn't believe in coincidences. Something about this woman felt... suspicious. And yet, he couldn't deny the effect she had, not only on his grandfather but on him as well.

Just when Jessica thought she might survive the evening, disaster struck.

A servant entered the dining hall, carrying a tray. "Chairman, here are the fried chicken feet you requested."

Jessica's blood froze.

On the tray was a plate of glistening chicken feet, seasoned exactly the way her family's shop prepared them. Her heart stopped. What if the chairman recognized the recipe? What if Ethan connected the dots?

The chairman beamed. "I had the kitchen prepare these especially for you, my dear! You must try them."

Jessica's lips stretched into a brittle smile. "W-wow, how... thoughtful."

Her hands trembled as she picked up a pair of chopsticks. She couldn't refuse. That would look suspicious. She couldn't admit familiarity. That would expose her.

So she did the only thing she could: she shoved one into her mouth with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Mmm!" she exclaimed, chewing furiously despite her throat threatening to close. "Delicious! Absolutely... delightful!"

The chairman roared with laughter, clapping the table. "Ha! I knew you'd love them!"

Jessica forced herself to swallow, praying she wouldn't choke. Across the table, Ethan's eyes never left her, sharp and assessing.

She could feel his suspicion tightening around her like a noose.

The dinner finally ended, and Jessica escaped into the cool night air, nearly collapsing from relief. She leaned against the car, clutching her clutch like a shield.

She'd survived. Barely.

Ethan joined her moments later, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. He stood close enough that she caught the faint scent of his cologne-something crisp and expensive that made her pulse jump.

"You handled my grandfather well," he said finally.

Jessica gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, well... I just tried to be myself."

His gaze sharpened, piercing. "Did you?"

Her breath caught. For one terrifying moment, she thought he'd seen through everything.

But then he leaned back slightly, slipping his hands into his pockets, his voice low and steady. "Don't think you've convinced me yet. This marriage will happen, Miss Wilson. It's only a matter of time."

Her stomach dropped. Her carefully constructed world tilted. She was trapped.

The car door opened with a soft click. Ethan gestured for her to step inside, his eyes never leaving hers.

And as she slid into the leather seat, one thought echoed relentlessly in her mind:

I'm doomed.