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.

The silence inside Ethan Maverick sedan was the kind that could suffocate. It pressed down on Jessica Robert chest until every shallow breath felt like a betrayal, as though even the sound of her lungs working might provoke him further. The leather seats were buttery soft, the ambient lights muted and elegant-yet she felt as though she were locked inside a prison carriage headed straight for her execution.

Her reflection in the tinted window looked pale, fragile. Streetlights streaked past, stretching her image into warped lines, like some cruel caricature of herself. Her heart hadn't slowed since dinner. Every thud in her chest replayed the scene in the chairman's dining hall: Ethan's voice, calm and deliberate, declaring her as his future wife; the chairman's delighted laughter; her own desperate, fake smile that had felt glued onto her face.

She wanted to laugh now, hysterically, at the absurdity of it all. She was an ordinary employee at a food company-barely managing rent, dodging blind date setups, sneaking through life with little lies here and there. How had she ended up seated next to Ethan Maverick, the notorious workaholic CEO, as he treated her like a criminal awaiting judgment?

Ethan's posture was perfect, almost regal. His suit hadn't creased despite the hours he'd spent in it. His hands rested lightly on his knees, not clenched, not fidgeting-controlled, like everything about him. But the set of his jaw, the slight twitch of muscle near his temple, betrayed the storm simmering beneath the calm.

Finally, his voice cut through the suffocating quiet. Low, even-but sharpened to a knife's edge.

"Do you enjoy lying this much?"

The words hit Jessica like a slap. Her head whipped toward him, eyes wide, her mouth opening before her mind had caught up. "Lying? I-no, I don't-" She faltered, scrambling. "I wasn't trying to-"

"Don't insult me with excuses." His gaze slid to her like a scalpel, cold and precise. "From the moment you opened your mouth at the restaurant, I knew something was wrong. Your words were rehearsed, your expressions forced. But to drag me in front of my grandfather and carry this charade into my family's home..." He exhaled slowly, deliberately. "Do you know how dangerous that was?"

Jessica's stomach sank. Dangerous? As if I wanted this!

"I didn't mean for it to go that far," she whispered, her voice shaking. "It was supposed to be just one date. Just dinner. That's all! I was helping a friend-"

The moment she said it, she knew it was a mistake.

His eyes sharpened like a hawk locking onto prey. "Helping a friend," he repeated. His tone was velvet over steel. "So you weren't even supposed to be there."

Her shoulders curled inward, the weight of his disdain pressing her down. "I... I thought you'd just reject me. That it would end there."

Ethan gave a mirthless smile, thin and cutting. "And instead, you've entangled yourself with me and my grandfather. Brilliant strategy."

She wanted to defend herself, to shout that none of this was her fault, that Sophia had begged her, that she'd only gone along to protect her friend from another suffocating marriage arrangement. But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. If she betrayed Sophia now, the fallout would be catastrophic.

So she sat in silence, clenching her fists in her lap until her nails dug crescents into her palms.

---

The car turned into quieter streets, leaving behind the glitter of Gangnam's neon. Convenience stores gave way to shuttered shops, and the noise of the city softened to the hush of late-night residential life. Jessica's neighborhood was close, familiar-yet she had never felt farther from safety.

The sedan rolled to a stop in front of her block. Relief surged in her chest, only to die instantly when Ethan finally spoke again.

"You're not getting away from this."

Her hand froze on the door handle. Slowly, she turned toward him, wide-eyed. "W-what?"

He stepped out of the car first, movements graceful, deliberate. The cool night air rushed in as he leaned back, one hand resting on the roof. His shadow loomed against the dim streetlamp.

"You'll stay in this role until I say otherwise."

Her heartbeat faltered. "Role?"

His expression was unreadable, but his voice was sharp with certainty. "My girlfriend." Then, with the faintest pause that made her blood run cold: "And soon, my fiancée."

The words landed like a thunderclap.

---

Jessica stumbled out of the car, nearly tripping over the curb. "You can't be serious!" Her voice cracked, too high-pitched, tinged with panic. "I-I have a job, a life! I can't just-just pretend to be-"

"Think of it as a contract." Ethan's interruption was smooth, final, a gavel slamming down. He adjusted his cufflinks, his every gesture meticulous. "You'll play the role I assign. You don't have a choice."

Her laugh came out hollow, incredulous. "No choice?!" She gestured wildly, frustration spilling over. "I didn't ask for this! You're the one who-"

"You lied," he cut in, voice sharp as glass. For the first time, real anger flickered across his face, raw and unfiltered. "You deceived me, deceived my grandfather, wasted my time. You don't get to walk away clean."

Jessica froze. The words sank into her like stones.

"I..." She faltered. The truth clawed at her throat. She could tell him it was Jessica's fault, that she was just the stand-in. One confession, and maybe she'd be free.

But then she saw the chairman's delighted smile again, his eyes shining with approval. If she destroyed that illusion, if she confessed, Chairman Maverick's fury would crash down not only on her but on Ethan as well.

No. She couldn't.

So she bit her lip until it stung, tasted iron, and stayed silent.

---

Ethan studied her silence, his eyes narrowing slightly. Inside, he was already calculating. He hated blind dates, hated his grandfather's nagging, hated this entire circus. But this woman-this liar who had stumbled into his life-had created an opportunity. If she played the role, his grandfather would be satisfied, and he could focus entirely on work again. No more wasted evenings, no more setups, no more meddling.

Yes. He would use her.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, then tucked it back into his pocket.

When he looked at her again, his expression was composed, calm. Only the faint curve of his lips hinted at something cruel. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we'll discuss the details."

"Details?" she echoed weakly, as though the word itself was poisonous.

"The terms of our relationship," he said simply. "You'll find I'm very thorough."

Her mouth opened in disbelief, but before she could muster another protest, he slipped back into the car. The door shut with quiet finality, and moments later, the sedan's taillights glowed red as it pulled away into the night.

---

Jessica remained on the sidewalk, frozen. The stillness of her neighborhood pressed in. A stray cat darted across the street. Somewhere nearby, a television murmured faintly from an open window. Ordinary sounds of ordinary life. Yet she felt like she had stepped into another universe.

Her legs buckled, and she sank onto the curb, clutching her bag like a shield. The streetlamp above her flickered, throwing her shadow in broken fragments across the asphalt.

"Fake boyfriend... fake fiancée?!" she whispered, her voice wobbling between laughter and tears. "what should I do ....how did I end up in this mess?"

The night offered no answer. Only the rustle of leaves in the breeze, as though mocking her.

For the first time in years, Jessica Robert felt her carefully balanced, ordinary life tip completely out of her control. And deep down, she knew there was no turning back.