Julian Thorne is bipolar, with a volatile temper. Yet, he ended up in an arranged marriage with me—a cowardly fake-good-girl. That day, Julian smashed everything in the living room. He yelled at his father, "You old fossil! How dare you make decisions for me? She's got guts smaller than a mouse! What's the use of being pretty?!" "Marry her? Ha! Over my dead body!" Then he turned around and bumped into me, shivering at the top of the stairs. Julian's breath hitched. Suddenly blushing, he changed his tune, his voice softening. "Dearest father, marriage isn't entirely out of the question. How about we set the date for next month—no, next week... actually, let's just make it tomorrow." 1 By the time I arrived, Julian had already trashed the living room. Expensive antiques from auctions were thrown like toys, shattering all over the floor. I stood at the door with my oversized suitcase, unsure whether to enter or flee. Just yesterday, I was informed I'd be marrying Julian Thorne. Everyone in our circle knew Julian had severe bipolar disorder. The worst incident was when he dislocated a rich kid's arm over a joke, sending him straight to the hospital. The guy still hasn't fully recovered. And me? I'm known as the timid, well-behaved girl. Cowardly, weak, prone to tears. The complete opposite of Julian. As an illegitimate daughter, I had no say in this arranged marriage. The very next day, I was kicked out with my luggage. I had no choice. To maintain my victim persona and gain some leverage, I had to start with Julian. The servants stood trembling on the side. Trying to minimize my presence, I dragged my suitcase slowly under the butler's signal. But as soon as I reached the stairs, I heard Julian's furious roar. "You old fossil! How dare you make decisions for me? She's got guts smaller than a mouse! What's the use of being pretty?!" "Someone saw her at a party the other day, tripping over nothing and crying on the floor for half an hour. Tsk, I hate crybabies." "If you're so obsessed with marriage, go be a matchmaker! The fees alone could boost the family business!" "Fifty is a great age for remarriage. Go get a new wife and have another son so you can stop nagging me!" "Marry her? Ha! Over my dead body!" Julian grabbed the last vase and threw it. It grazed his father's forehead and smashed at my feet. Startled, I let out a scream. "Ah!" Julian, still fuming, turned around impatiently at the sound. However... I witnessed the volatile, spoiled prince freeze the moment he saw me. A flush spread rapidly from his ears to his neck. Huh? Wasn't he supposed to hate me? This wasn't going according to the script. Julian stared at me for a long time, only snapping out of it after his father called him several times. Suddenly blushing, he changed his tune, his voice softening. "Dearest father, marriage isn't entirely out of the question. How about we set the date for next month—no, next week... actually, let's just make it tomorrow." 2 I was assigned the room next to Julian's. Originally, I was supposed to stay in the guest room on the second floor. But Julian claimed the guest rooms hadn't been used in ages and might have mice. I lowered my head, pretending to hesitate. Julian lived up to his reputation for being volatile and gloomy. My plan was to make him hate me. That way, I could maintain my pitiful persona and easily sabotage the marriage. But the current turn of events had me confused. Julian didn't give me a chance to refuse. He picked up my suitcase and carried it upstairs himself. He kept stealing glances at me, muttering, "If you get scared and start crying again, I won't have time to comfort you..." I stood frozen, looking helplessly at Mr. Thorne senior. He looked equally confused but patted my shoulder, telling me to settle in. Julian was extremely territorial; no one was allowed in his space without permission. This meant only the two of us lived on the fourth floor. He placed my huge suitcase gently on the floor. He wanted to help me unpack, but I stopped him just in time. The suitcase was filled with my personal items. If he saw them, my persona would crumble. My hand accidentally brushed his. It was cool. The next second, Julian spun around, quickly taking off his jacket and tying it around his waist. He cursed under his breath. "F*ck." Me: "?" Is the prince this innocent? Julian kept his back to me, stiff as a board. I blinked and whispered an apology, sounding like I was about to cry. "I'm sorry." Sure enough, Julian whipped around, stammering. "Why apologize? I should be the one apologizing. Sorry, sorry, was I too loud just now? Did I scare you? I'll be quieter next time, please don't cry..." He bent down, clumsily trying to comfort me. Seeing I stopped tearing up, he asked tentatively. "W-what's your name again?" "Chloe." I whispered. This dummy. He didn't even know his fiancée's name. I looked up, meeting his nervous gaze. Julian held it for a second before blushing again. 3 Before leaving, Julian left a sticky note with his number, telling me to call him if I needed anything. Watching his expectant look, I hid behind the door and nodded obediently. Once the door closed, my innocent act vanished. I rubbed my sore eyes and tossed the note into the trash. Then I opened my suitcase. I took out my strap dresses, tongue ring, and toys. Finally, I grabbed my tablet, opened my favorite site, and started enjoying some "content." Meanwhile, Julian's phone rang as soon as he got back to his room. It wasn't Chloe, but his best friend, Zack. "Julian, Chloe isn't as simple as she looks." "Yeah, she's got some moves." "She's not just a pretty vase. Some guys saw her at a club a few days ago—" Before Zack could finish, Julian cut him off impatiently. "Who the hell allowed you to badmouth Chloe?" "She's not a vase! She's clearly... a cute little hamster!" Julian's ears burned as he spoke. "Forget it, can't explain it to a single dog like you. Just wait for the wedding invitation!" He hung up. Julian opened his hand. In his palm lay a small sticker. He had secretly swiped it while carrying her luggage. The pattern was unclear. White with some pink. It carried Chloe's unique gardenia scent. F*ck. Julian cursed himself and headed to the bathroom, turning the shower to the coldest setting. For the first time in his twenty-something years, his heart raced for a girl. There was no sound from next door. Julian pressed his ear against the wall, patiently listening. The air around him smelled strange. He listened to the faint, happy sounds coming from the girl next door. Late at night, still caught in the afterglow, Julian thought to himself: "Love at first sight is actually f*cking real." 4 Over the next few days, Julian canceled all his plans. He just stayed home obediently. To be precise, he followed me wherever I went. His only private activity was calling people to rush the wedding preparations. I suspected he was possessed. But he justified it by saying: "Cultivating feelings with my fiancée." Having a tail was annoying. Outwardly, I pretended to be scared, hoping Julian would get bored and kick me out. Preferably with a hefty "emotional damage" fee. To my surprise, instead of getting bored, Julian took me to a gathering. He claimed he wanted his bros to meet their sister-in-law. I stood outside the private room, hesitant to enter. To maintain my good-girl image, I wore a plain white dress with minimal makeup. Completely out of place in a noisy club. "I'm a little scared..." Scared of what? I knew these idle rich kids well. Colorful hairstyles, foul mouths, smoke everywhere. But when the door opened... A dozen guys in suits sat upright on the sofas, glasses of orange juice on the table. The air smelled of fresh gardenias. Everyone was smiling, hair gelled back neatly. It looked less like a club gathering and more like an elementary school assembly. Julian looked even more nervous than I was. "Babe, are you still scared?" I swallowed my prepared excuse and shook my head silently.
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