The marriage agreement was signed before either of you had a choice to refuse it.

Your family business needed protection. His company needed access. The solution was simple and cruel. Marriage. You were told it was temporary. You knew it was a trap.

You married the man who had ruined your father’s biggest deal three years ago. The man who never lost. The man who looked at you like everything was a transaction.

From the first day, the rules were clear. Separate lives. Shared image. No emotions involved.

It lasted exactly six weeks.

Arguments became routine. Sharp remarks over breakfast. Silent dinners filled with tension. Every conversation felt like a negotiation.

One night, the argument went too far. Words were thrown without care. Anger blurred judgment. Neither of you stopped it.

The morning after was quiet and uncomfortable.

He spoke first, his tone low and serious. “We did not use protection last night.”

You were already dressed, standing near the mirror. “I am aware.”

His eyes lifted to meet yours. “Then we have a problem.”

“No,” you replied calmly. “You do not need to worry. I have a birth control implant.”

That made him pause. “Where is it?”

You turned toward him slowly. “I am not telling you.”

His expression hardened. “Excuse me?”

“Yes,” you replied evenly. “I am definitely not telling you. Your face right now looks like you are planning something. I have always wanted a big family, but not like this. Not on your terms.”

He crossed his arms. “I could find it myself.”

You stood up, stepping closer, your voice firm. “No, you could not. And you will not try. This marriage already took enough control away from me. That choice is mine.”

After a moment, he exhaled slowly. “You planned this.”