Chapter Two: The contract

The next morning came faster than Mirable expected. She had barely slept in the big, fancy room that didn’t feel like hers. The bed was soft, the sheets smelled like lavender, and everything was perfect—but it wasn’t home. She missed the creaky wooden floor of her farmhouse, the sound of roosters, and her dad’s voice calling her for breakfast.

Instead, there was a knock at the door.

“Miss Walt, Mr. Mendy is waiting for you in the study,” a maid said politely.

Mirable got up, changed into a plain blouse and jeans—she didn’t care about the expensive dresses hanging in the closet—and followed the maid through the wide halls. Every room they passed looked like it belonged in a magazine, filled with golden frames, glass tables, and marble floors. But there was no warmth.

She found James sitting behind a large oak desk, flipping through a folder. He looked up when she entered and stood, always so proper.

“Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not really,” she said, crossing her arms.

He didn’t react. “Let’s go over the terms of our arrangement.”

Of course. No small talk. Straight to business.

He handed her a printed agreement. The title read: Temporary Marriage Contract – One Year Term

Her hands trembled slightly as she took it.

“I had this drawn up by our legal team,” he said. “It protects both of us. You’ll see the important points are clearly stated.”

Mirable read each part slowly.

1. The marriage will last exactly one year.

2. Both parties will live under the same roof.

3. Public appearances as a couple are required twice a month.

4. No romantic expectations.

5. No interference in each other’s personal matters.

6. At the end of one year, both parties will sign the divorce papers. The Walt family’s debt will be considered paid in full.

“That’s it?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “Just follow the script, and we both walk away?”

James nodded. “Yes. In return, your family keeps the farm, and I satisfy my father’s last condition.”

“What condition?”

He hesitated for the first time. “My father believed in legacy and loyalty. He wanted me to marry someone with roots. A woman who came from something real. I didn’t agree with it, but the promise was made long ago. This arrangement checks the box.”

Mirable stared at him. “So I’m just a box to tick?”

He met her eyes calmly. “You’re more than that. You’re doing something brave. You’re saving your family. That deserves respect.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. It was the first time he’d said anything that sounded remotely human.

He handed her a pen. “Sign when you’re ready. We’ll have the ceremony in two days. Quiet, just a few witnesses.”

She stared at the contract for a long second.

Then signed her name.

It felt like signing her life away.

---

Later that day, Mirable explored the mansion grounds. There were gardens filled with flowers, a large greenhouse, and even a tennis court. Everything looked perfect. But no one was around. The house was too quiet, like everyone was pretending to be happy but had forgotten how.

In the evening, she sat in her new room, staring at the wedding dress that had been delivered. It was beautiful—lace sleeves, pearl buttons, soft ivory fabric. Nothing like the dress she imagined as a girl. She always thought she’d wear her mother’s old gown, with daisies in her hair and her father walking her down the aisle.

Now she would walk into a quiet room, say a few words, and marry a stranger.

There was a knock.

James stepped in, dressed in a casual sweater and slacks. It was the first time she saw him without a suit.

“I wanted to check on you,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly.

He looked around. “This used to be my sister’s room. She moved out years ago.”

“You have a sister?”

“She lives in Europe now. Married for love.” His tone hinted at something Mirable couldn’t quite read.

She stood up. “Can I ask something?”

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you fight the contract? You’re rich, powerful. Couldn’t you have found a loophole?”

James smiled faintly. “I don’t always do what I want. Sometimes we do things for the family name.”

“So we’re both trapped,” she said softly.

He nodded. “For now.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Then he said, “There’s a charity gala this weekend. It’s our first public appearance. You’ll need a dress.”

“I’ll wear what I have.”

“That won’t do,” he said, trying not to sound insulting. “I’ll have a stylist come by tomorrow.”

“I don’t need a stylist,” she snapped. “I need time.”

He raised an eyebrow. “This marriage comes with responsibilities.”

“I’m not a doll, James. I’m not going to play house for your business deals.”

He held up a hand. “You’re right. I’ll give you space. But remember—we made a deal.”

He left, and Mirable sat down, heart pounding.

This wasn’t just a fake marriage. This was going to be a war of wills.

She wasn’t going to let James Mendy walk all over her just because he wore expensive suits and lived in a castle.

If she was stuck in this contract, she’d play by the rules—but on her terms.

One year.

She could survive one year.

But as she lay down in bed, staring at the ceiling, one thought wouldn’t go away:

What if one year changed everything?