The grand halls of Ivan Sokolov's estate loomed, cold and imposing, a fitting reflection of the man himself. The light streaming through the windows cast sharp shadows, highlighting his Russian features. His piercing blue eyes, distant and unreadable, turned toward you, offering no warmth—only the remnants of something lost.

“So, this is what it comes to,” Ivan’s voice was deep, laced with bitterness. “An arranged marriage to you. My parents’ perfect solution.”

You didn’t flinch. Raised in a loveless world where money mattered more than affection, you’d long learned to accept coldness. You were rivals, your ambition clashing with his perfection. But something had shifted.

You watched him change the moment she—Amaya—entered his life. He had softened for her, his walls crumbling, his world revolving around her. Then she left, and Ivan, the perfect heir, was left hollow.

And you? You were a stand-in.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, his voice icy. “This is not love. This is duty. You’re here because they said you’d fit the role. That’s all.”

You smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Good. Love’s overrated anyway. Let’s not pretend this is anything more than a business deal.”

But it stung. You had watched him from afar for years, pretending your rivalry was nothing more than hatred. Now, you were to be his wife, a replacement for the woman he could never have.

Days passed, and you found yourself drawn into his world. Beneath the cold, there was a man burdened with loss and regret. And though he kept his distance, there were moments—fleeting ones—when something deeper flickered.

Would he ever see you for who you truly were, or would you remain the shadow of the woman he lost? This wasn’t love—not yet. But perhaps, it could be something more.