My mystery husband, from our arranged marriage I’d never even met, wanted a divorce. When I told him it was too much of a hassle, he laid his cards on the table, practically begging. [I've been in love with a girl for ten years. The only reason I agreed to this fake marriage was to placate our parents, so that one day, I could pursue her with a clean slate.] [I’m finally in a position to win her heart, and I’m asking for your help. After all, it's impossible for me to ever fall for you, let alone have a real marriage with you.] [I’ll give you fifty million dollars as compensation for breaking the contract. And as for that A-list celebrity you like, I have my ways of making him marry you, willingly.] For the money and the celebrity, I agreed to fly back home for the “divorce.” But the very next second… My private, personal phone buzzed with a friend request. [Hi, this is Jonathan Craig. We went to high school together.] 1 Jonathan Craig’s mother was a formidable woman. After just one meeting with my father, she had him—a man who had treated me like the apple of his eye my whole life—agree to our arranged marriage. But on the day of our first “date,” Jonathan only sent his secretary. The gist was this: his mother had arranged the marriage behind his back, and he had no intention of marrying me. However, if I was willing to enter a fake marriage to deceive our parents and allow our two companies to cooperate, he would sign a contract with me. He would pay me ten million dollars a year, with the contract renewable annually. Since I didn’t know Jonathan and had zero interest in him, and since I was worried my father would just arrange another marriage if this one fell through, I agreed. For over eight months, Jonathan and I never had direct contact. Everything went through his secretary. But tonight, he sent a friend request to my work phone. [Hello, I’m Jonathan Craig.] I was surprised. I tapped on his profile. His username was his full name, simple and direct, befitting his image as a corporate titan. But his profile picture was jarringly out of place: a cute Ragdoll cat. The cat looked uncannily like a stray I had meticulously fed back in high school. I’d wanted to take it home after graduation, but it disappeared. I was upset about it for ages. I zoomed in on the picture, studying it for a long while. Finally, I concluded they just looked alike. It wasn’t the same cat. I put it out of my mind and hit [Accept]. Jonathan introduced himself again and stated his purpose: [Hello, Stella. This is Jonathan Craig.] [For personal reasons, I need to terminate our fake marriage contract ahead of schedule.] [I will compensate you for the breach of contract.] [When is the earliest you can return to the country to handle this with me?] I stared at my phone like a confused old man on the subway. It took me a while to digest it all before I replied: [We’re not legally married, so we don’t have to go through the courts. I don’t think I need to fly back for this, do I?] He replied instantly: [Actually, my mother is insisting that I bring you to tell her about the divorce in person. So it’s imperative that you make the trip.] [Furthermore, I’d like for the termination of our agreement to be a formal, written contract, signed by both parties, to avoid any future complications.] Complications? Was he afraid I’d cling to him later? Ha. The nerve. I couldn’t be bothered to type. I used voice-to-text. [Flying is exhausting. I don’t want to come back.] [If you’re worried about me causing trouble, you can just send the contract over. I’ll sign it and mail it back.] Jonathan: [But if you don’t come back, my mother won’t agree to us separating.] [And the contract isn’t because I’m worried about you. It’s because I don’t want the girl I love to ever misunderstand what we had.] I was a little shocked. [You’re in love with someone?] To convince me, Jonathan opened up completely, his tone almost pleading: [Yes. I’ve been in love with her for ten years. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her. She’s more important to me than my own life.] [The whole point of this fake marriage was to be able to pursue her one day with a clean slate.] [I’m finally in a position to do that, and I’m begging you to help me.] [Because I could never, ever fall for you. We could never be a real couple.] [I’ll give you fifty million dollars in financial and emotional compensation. Also, my secretary mentioned you’re a big fan of the singer Asher Vaughn. As part of the deal, if you want, I have the means to make him marry you, willingly.] According to our contract, he only owed me twenty million. But he was offering fifty. And he was going to make my favorite celebrity marry me. He was a living saint. I typed excitedly: [Are you sure? Fifty million, and you can get Asher Vaughn to marry me?] Jonathan: [Absolutely. If I’m lying, may I be damned.] Me: [You being damned doesn’t do me any good.] Jonathan: [If I’m lying, may I be punished to never win the heart of the woman I love.] Swearing on the girl he’d loved for a decade. Tsk, tsk. Now I was completely convinced. [Fine. I’ll fly back tomorrow.] Jonathan seemed to let out a huge sigh of relief. [Thank you. Do you need me to send someone to pick you up from the airport?] 2 I was in an excellent mood and decided to tease him a little. [Sending someone is so impersonal. I want you to come pick me up yourself.] He was typing for a long time. [Okay. Send me your flight number after you book it.] I hadn’t expected him to agree. But fine by me. The sooner we met, the sooner this would be over, and the less chance there was for anything to go wrong. After sending him my flight information, I blocked my parents and posted on my private social media account. [This girl is coming home tomorrow. Who’s asking me out?] I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, my post had blown up with notifications. At the same time, I had a new friend request on my private account. From Jonathan Craig. [Hi, I'm Jonathan Craig. We went to high school together.] Looking at the request, a dozen question marks popped up over my head. Jonathan Craig and I were high school classmates? How come I had absolutely no memory of him? And he already had my other account, so why was he adding this one? Did some busybody screenshot my post and send it to him? After all, that “asking me out” part could easily sound like I was planning to cheat on him. And our contract explicitly forbade any acts of infidelity. I mentally kicked myself for getting carried away. I immediately set the post to private. And, of course, I didn't accept his friend request. My father is a nationally renowned entrepreneur. To prevent me from being kidnapped for ransom during my school years, I never used my legal name, Stella. Instead, I used my mother’s surname and went by Faye Lane. Only my immediate family knew. Likewise, I had separate phones and accounts for work and my private life. The private one was for friends and family; the work one was for colleagues and acquaintances. Given my relationship with Jonathan, he belonged firmly in the “work” category. Thankfully, Jonathan got the hint. When I didn't accept, he didn't send another request. The next day at noon, I arrived at the domestic airport on schedule. When I called Jonathan to have him meet me at the arrivals gate, he hung up on me. Then he sent me a message: [I'm so sorry. I just saw the girl I love at the airport.] [To avoid any misunderstandings, I can’t pick you up. Please just take a taxi. I’ll reimburse you for the fare.] [Transferred $10,000] Excuse me? Did he think this was about the money? This was a matter of pride! And for a CEO of his stature to go back on his word like that! I furiously typed back: [You love her that much? What if she rejects you and tells you to pursue me instead? To have a real marriage with me?] Jonathan seemed to ponder this seriously. A moment later, he replied: [It has to be her. If she told me to marry you, I would have no choice but to end my own life to prove my devotion.] I…! Was he just that deeply in love? Or was I just that repulsive? He would rather die than marry me. I, who had never once been rejected by a man, was so angry my chest physically hurt. I took a deep breath, put my phone away, and pushed my luggage cart towards the exit, scanning the crowd. I was trying to spot which idiot might be him. But instead, my eyes met a searing gaze. The owner of that gaze was dressed in a classic black and white suit. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His features were so strikingly handsome they looked like they'd been sculpted by a master artist, drawing frequent glances from passersby. Some of the younger women stealing looks at him couldn't help but blush. I’ve seen plenty of handsome men, but never one as eye-catching as him. So I met his gaze boldly. Maybe it was because I was also, objectively, very attractive, but the handsome man seemed to shy away. After less than five seconds of eye contact, he looked away, the tips of his ears turning red. 3 He quickly glanced back, pretending to look at something else, only to lock eyes with me again. And again, he bashfully looked away. Tsk, tsk. I couldn’t help but smile. How could a man that handsome be so easily flustered? And with that devastatingly confident face, he was making expressions more suited to a shy puppy. The contrast was absolutely delightful. Suddenly, I wanted to test him. Was he into me? If I walked over to him, would he dare to ask for my number? But the thought of contact information immediately reminded me of my deadbeat fake husband. Who knew where that creep was hiding, watching me and his dream girl. Ugh. I sighed. Forget it. I wasn't in the mood. But as I turned to leave, I saw in the reflection of the airport glass that the handsome man was still watching me intently. My curiosity got the better of me. I abruptly turned around and started walking towards him. But to my surprise, as he watched me approach, step by step, his eyes widened, and his fingers began to tremble slightly. He looked both thrilled and terrified. Then, on his long, powerful legs, he scrambled away in a panic. What the—!! Am I that scary? …That can’t be right. Then he must just not be interested. I gave a self-deprecating laugh and went to find a taxi. My phone buzzed. It was Jonathan. [I want to get this contract terminated as soon as possible. Can I take you to see my mother tonight?] Me: [Fine.] Jonathan sent an electronic document. [Please review the termination clauses. If you have any additions or changes, add them and send it back to me.] I opened it. Besides the fifty million and the promise to help me marry Asher Vaughn, Jonathan had specifically added a clause emphasizing that during our "marriage," we'd had no physical contact and held no affection for each other. Furthermore, after termination, neither party could entangle the other in any way, or they would be liable for a fifty-million-dollar fine for emotional distress. I mean, seriously… He was the one afraid of me clinging to him, but he had to dress it up as a mutual agreement. Seeing how little he thought of me, how much he was guarding against me, I suddenly found him very dislikeable. It just made me want to be done with him even faster. [I’ve read the contract. It’s fine as is. Pick me up at my Greenwich townhouse in two hours.] Jonathan: [Okay. With my mother, we’ll stick to the story that our values don’t align and we don’t want to hold each other back.] Me: [Whatever. You can say what you want.] The townhouse was a coming-of-age gift from my father. I was staying there for two reasons. First, my dad really admired Jonathan, and I was afraid he’d be angry I’d decided on a “divorce” without consulting him. Second, my best friend, Lucy, lived next door, and she promised me a surprise tonight. The moment I got home, I showered, did my hair, put on a full face of gorgeous makeup, and slipped into a stunning, figure-hugging green slip dress. I was genuinely pissed off at Jonathan. I wanted to weaponize my beauty. I wanted him to see what a vibrant, breathtaking woman he was missing out on. Jonathan was even more impatient than I was. When I contacted him, he was already waiting outside my complex. But it was rush hour, and the entrance was clogged with cars and people. As I was about to ask which car was his, I saw the handsome man from the airport, sitting in a black Maybach by the side of the road. His large, elegant hand was resting on the open window frame. A Patek Philippe watch adorned his wrist, its silver face glinting in the evening sun, a beacon of his effortless grace. A cigarette was perched between his long fingers. He took a drag, then flicked the ash out the window. The prominent veins on the back of his hand rose and fell with the movement. The sight was impossibly, captivatingly beautiful. But I was just appreciating the view. Remembering how he’d fled from me, I had no interest in getting to know him. I texted Jonathan: [I’m at the entrance. Which car are you?] While I waited for his reply, I saw the handsome man pick up his phone, glance at it, and then lean out his window, looking around. Then, his gaze locked onto mine, as if frozen in place. 4 The sounds of cars and people around me suddenly faded away. He had stolen all my attention. I could only watch as his expression shifted from surprise to delight, and from delight to panic. Finally, it settled into a tense, swirling vortex of emotion… Before I could puzzle out why he always looked at me so strangely, Lucy pulled up in front of me, rolling down her window with a cheerful grin. “Came out specially to greet me?” “Huh? Oh, no, I was just heading out.” “For what?” The “marriage” was, at Jonathan’s request, a secret known only to our two families. Now that we were “divorcing,” there was even less reason to broadcast it. I smiled. “Just some personal business.” “Well, cancel it if you can. The surprise I mentioned? My friend is hosting a get-together tonight, and Asher Vaughn is going to be there. I’m taking you.” My eyes lit up. “For real?” “For real.” An A-lister like Asher Vaughn was a rare sight, even if you threw money at it. And terminating the contract with Jonathan could wait one more night. I hopped into Lucy’s car and sent Jonathan an explanation: [Something urgent came up. I’ll go see your mom with you tomorrow.] Jonathan’s reply was surprisingly accommodating, as if my canceling on him was exactly what he wanted: [Okay.] [But you won’t have something else tomorrow, will you?] [I’m really anxious to get this over with. Otherwise, I don’t even dare to say hello to her when I see her.] I was confused. I quoted a common saying back at him: [The two aren’t mutually exclusive. If you want to say hi, just say hi.] Jonathan: [Our divorce might get leaked. I don’t want to have any contact with her while I’m still technically married. I don’t want her to be mistaken for a homewrecker.] So, this is what it was like to love someone. To be so careful, to cherish them to such a degree. Moved, I told him the truth: [I can’t promise I won’t have something else tomorrow. But I’m back in the country now. I will definitely terminate the contract with you.] Jonathan: [?] [What do you mean by that?] [You don’t want to terminate it anymore?] His anxiety and agitation were practically leaping off the screen. I sighed helplessly. Remembering Lucy still needed to go home and change, I made a new offer. [With your mom—if you can guarantee you’ll be done in an hour and I can leave, I’ll go to your place right now. If not, I will be there tomorrow! I swear!] Jonathan must have believed me. His mood seemed to improve, and he even made some small talk: [An hour probably won’t be enough. Let’s just do it tomorrow. I have other plans tonight anyway.] I replied with an [OK] and ended the chat. Two hours later, Lucy brought me to the most luxurious private club in the city. The moment the door to the private room swung open, my heart pounded with excitement. I instinctively looked towards the center seat of power. But it wasn't Asher Vaughn sitting there. It was the handsome man in the Maybach. Under the glittering lights, he was lounging on the sofa, his long legs crossed, exuding an air of aristocratic dominance. It was clear he was the one everyone deferred to. I froze for a second. Seriously. Three times in one day. What kind of fate was this? At the same time, the handsome man looked up, his gaze sweeping lazily towards the door. The instant he saw my face, his eyes lit up. He immediately uncrossed his legs and placed his hands on his knees, sitting up perfectly straight. In a flash, he transformed from the king of the room into a schoolboy, sitting primly, desperate to make a good impression on his teacher.
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