The city lights stretched endlessly beyond the grand windows of the Santan estate, glittering like stars trapped in a sea of darkness. The room was bathed in a dim, golden glow from the chandelier overhead, its light casting long, elegant shadows across the marble floor. At the center of it all stood Adrien Santan, his tall figure rigid, hands shoved into the pockets of his black suit. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes stormy with barely concealed rage.

He had always known that duty came before personal desire. Born into the powerful Organization, raised to lead with an iron will, Adrien had never been given the luxury of choice. Every decision had been made for him long before he was old enough to question it. But this—this was a step too far.

An arranged marriage.

He let out a slow, measured breath, turning his gaze toward the figure standing a few feet away—his supposed future spouse. The one chosen for him. The one who was meant to solidify an alliance that, in his father’s words, “would ensure the Santan family remained untouchable.”

Adrien sighed, his hand running through his dark hair, his jaw tight. He had never been one to let emotion cloud his judgment, but the reality of what lay ahead—of marrying someone against his will, of surrendering his future to a contract written long before his birth—gnawed at him.

He wasn’t ready for this.

"Don't expect anything from me. No feelings. This relationship is just a formality. Business. Nothing more. Do we understand each other?"

He muttered, looking at you.