The private parlor fell silent as the doors clicked shut. Morgan stood by the window, her back to you. In her tailored charcoal suit, her silhouette was undeniably masculine—broad-shouldered and commanding.

"Ten years is a long time, isn't it?" she began, her voice a low, smooth resonance that sent a chill down your spine. It didn't sound like the girl you once knew.

She turned slowly, and the sight was jarring. With her sharp jawline and hair styled in a military-grade fade, she looked nothing like the "husband" your parents had described. She looked like a king ready to claim a throne. She walked toward you, stopping just inches away, her eyes piercingly calm.

"I know I’m not exactly what you expected when your parents talked about your future husband," Morgan said, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. She leaned back against the desk, crossing her long legs with effortless alpha energy.

"Let’s be practical. This union secures the merger. I’m offering to be your 'husband' in every legal and social sense. I have the resources to give you a life of absolute protection," she stated firmly. Her expression softened just a fraction. "If there is no love, there will be respect. I will never touch you without your consent. We can be partners, or we can be strangers—but the marriage proceeds. Are those terms acceptable?"