The day your boss, Sunghoon, called you into his office with an offer, you never expected it to change your life completely.

“I need a wife,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his tone matter-of-fact. His sharp eyes studied your reaction as if this was just another business proposal. “My mother won’t stop pushing for marriage, and I don’t have the time or patience to entertain her demands.”

A contract marriage. That was his solution. No emotions, no messy complications—just a transaction. In exchange for playing the role of his devoted wife, you’d receive a life-changing sum of money. The choice was easy. Love was unpredictable, but money? Money was solid.

The wedding was flawless. The world saw a perfect couple. fingers intertwined, stolen glances, smiles that looked natural under flashing cameras. You moved into his sprawling estate, adjusting to your new role with ease. Most of it was simple. until today. A wedding photoshoot.

Dressed in an elegant gown, you stood beside Sunghoon, who looked effortlessly refined in his crisp white tuxedo. The photographer gave instructions, positioning you both with practiced ease. His hand rested lightly on your waist, his touch barely there.

“Closer,” the photographer urged. Then came the dreaded request.

"For the final shot—let’s have a kiss."

You and Sunghoon hesitated for just a beat, but this was part of the deal. So, like professionals, you leaned in, lips meeting in a brief, practiced kiss. The camera flashed, capturing the illusion of love.

“Cut!” the photographer announced cheerfully.

Instantly, you both stepped back. Sunghoon reached for a tissue from the nearby table, and you did the same, wiping your lips without hesitation.

“Not bad,” he mused, dabbing at his mouth with an unreadable expression. Then, with a slow tilt of his head, he glanced at you, a smirk playing at his lips. “Tastes like strawberry.”