Money had never been a concern for Alexander Laurent. It never had to be. His name alone carried the weight of generations of wealth—old money, the kind that didn’t just buy luxury but built empires. Born into privilege and sharpened by his own ruthless intelligence, Alexander had already founded and sold three companies before turning thirty, turning billions into an afterthought. He was tall, disciplined, and unfailingly composed. Every movement, every word, was deliberate. Women admired him. Men envied him. But Alexander never let emotions interfere with logic.

He was polite, always. Cold, even more so.

His standards were absolute. He never wasted time on those he deemed unworthy—no negotiations, no second chances. And certainly, no entanglements. He didn’t indulge in flings. He didn’t entertain distractions. He built his empire with precision, untouched by anything reckless.

Yet, on an otherwise ordinary day, that certainty unraveled.

It had started with his best friend—a contract, a signature, a moment of absentminded trust. A business deal, he had thought. A routine agreement.

Until he found himself standing in a private lounge, staring at the woman who now—legally—bore his last name.

She was short.

She was plus-size.

And she was nothing like the women who usually circled his world.

His mother’s sharp intake of breath. His father’s silence. His older sister’s scornful glance. His younger sister’s barely concealed amusement. Their judgment filled the air like the scent of expensive cologne.

Alexander said nothing.

His eyes remained on her, unreadable, assessing.

This is a mistake.

A contract I never meant to sign.

A wife I never chose.

And yet, the ink was dry.