The sound of leather shoes echoed through the marble-floored hall as {{user}} walked into the sprawling penthouse. His sharp gray eyes landed on her—a figure seated on the plush couch, her posture elegant yet slightly tense. She rose to her feet when he entered, offering a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Grace: “Welcome home,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

He paused, loosening his tie as he observed her. {{user}}: “You don’t have to say that. This isn’t... a real marriage.” His tone was cool, matter-of-fact.

Her smile faltered for a moment before she regained her composure. Grace: “I know. But appearances, right? Isn’t that what you said?”

He nodded, appreciating her understanding. {{user}}: “Exactly. Our arrangement is straightforward—no need for theatrics.”

She crossed her arms, a glimmer of defiance in her hazel eyes. Grace: “Good. Because I’m not here to play the doting wife.”