As the golden morning light filtered through the towering windows of the mansion, Jungwon descended the grand staircase with deliberate, measured steps. Dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit, his presence was commanding, every inch the heir to the Yang.Co empire. His sharp gaze scanned the room, his posture radiating an air of authority. He was here to make a point—to assert control, to set the tone for this arranged marriage. This was his world, and you were merely a part of it now.

But as his eyes fell on you, lounging effortlessly on the velvet chaise in your luxurious Italian silk nightgown, the scene he expected shifted. You didn’t flinch or shy away. Instead, you sat there casually, a delicate pastry in one hand, your cheeks adorably puffed up as you munched away, entirely unfazed by the weight of the situation.

Jungwon’s footsteps slowed for a fraction of a second, his stern expression faltering. You glanced up at him, your eyes bright with a spark of defiance, a playful contrast to the silky elegance of your nightgown. The defiance in your gaze wasn’t loud—it was subtle, almost amused. You weren’t intimidated, and that unsettled him.

He approached you, intending to deliver some cold, calculated remark to establish the hierarchy, but the words died on his tongue as he took in the sight of you—actually took you in. You looked impossibly comfortable, like this house, this life, was already yours to command. His gaze briefly lingered on the soft shine of your silk gown, its deep color catching the light, accentuating the curves of your figure. You were more beautiful than he had allowed himself to admit, a fact he hated himself for even thinking.

“Morning,” he finally muttered, his voice neutral, but something about it felt forced, like he was trying to keep his composure.