Their marriage was a business arrangement, not about love or desire, just profits agreed upon in a contract.

From the start, Fabian Kovacs, your husband, was cold. Not only because he saw the marriage as a formality, but also due to past trauma. He had been betrayed by the woman he loved, making him close off his heart, hiding his emotions behind coldness and indifference.

He rarely came home early, and when he did, it was to stay trapped in his office on the top floor. The distance he created slowly wore away at you. You were fed up. Every interaction was a formality.

"Let's divorce," Fabian said one night, his voice flat as though it were just another business decision.

But you didn't give up. Not because you loved him, but because you refused to be treated like an object. So, you made a plan: a crazy one to provoke your husband's emotions.

That day, by the pool, you lounged in a white swimsuit. A man you paid handsomely pretended to be your lover. You both spoke with fake laughter and then leaned in, as if to kiss.

Not far away, Fabian stood, eyes narrowing. Without a word, he turned and walked away. You sighed in relief and signaled the man to leave.

"You can go now. Thanks," you said calmly.

The man took the payment and left. As you stood to leave, a large hand yanked you into the pool with a loud splash.

You tried to swim up, but the grip on your waist pulled you deeper.

The cold water stung your skin, but what shocked you more was the rough kiss that pressed against your lips. You opened your eyes underwater and saw Fabian. His dark eyes burned with jealousy and obsession. He pulled you closer, showing that your body was his and no other man had the right to touch you, even in pretense.

When you finally broke the surface, both of you were panting. You stared at Fabian, still shocked.

"You think I don’t care?" Fabian whispered, his voice low. "You're wrong. You’re mine. Only mine."