Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
I was the least-favored oldest daughter of my family. To save our business from total bankruptcy, I was traded away.
An arranged marriage. Sold off to the Sterling family.
Rumor had it that Julian Sterling had taken the reins of his family’s empire at just twenty. He was a ruthless monster in business, and an emotionless machine in love.
I prepared myself for a cold, living prison.
Yet, right before the wedding, my so-called fiancé suddenly transformed into the ultimate simp.
He started hovering around me like a ray of warm sunshine every single day.
He made this cold merger feel like something genuine and tender.
Falling in love with him was inevitable.
Then, exactly one year after we tied the knot, he abruptly turned back into the man the rumors warned me about.
He looked me dead in the eye and said:
"This is strictly a business arrangement. Know your place."
The doorbell rang.
I literally leaped off the couch with excitement, kicking off a slipper in my rush.
"Babe, you’re home!"
I called out happily. The second I swung the door open, I threw my arms out, ready to crash into that warm, familiar chest.
The man on the porch had the exact face I loved down to my bones—sharp brows, striking eyes, a chiseled jawline.
Except there wasn't a trace of the overflowing tenderness and adoration he used to look at me with.
Instead, his gaze was pitch-black, chilling, and clinical.
My smile froze. My outstretched arms hung awkwardly in midair.
"Julian?" I asked tentatively.
He had been missing for seven full days.
I had spent those seven days nearly losing my mind. I pulled every string I had, but found zero trace of him. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air.
Now, he was standing right in front of me.
Yet he stared at me like I was a complete stranger.
My heart began to sink, inch by inch.
Without answering, he brushed right past me into the living room. His eyes swept across the cozy, warm decor, his brow furrowing deeper with every second.
This was the home he and I had built together piece by piece. Every little trinket held a sweet memory.
I hurried behind him, asking quietly, "Julian, where were you? I was so worried..."
Before I could finish, he wheeled around.
Unable to stop in time, I bumped straight toward his chest.
There was no warm embrace. Instead, a pair of strong hands shoved me back hard. I stumbled two steps before catching my balance.
"I’m not your husband," he stated, his voice as cold as ice. "Keep your distance."
Those words pierced my heart like a poisoned blade.
I stood frozen, staring at him in disbelief.
Sure, we had started as an arranged marriage.
But right before our wedding, Julian had pursued me like a man possessed.
He made me believe our marriage could actually be full of warmth.
He clumsily learned how to cook my favorite meals. He memorized every tiny preference I had.
When I woke up from nightmares in the dead of night, he would wrap me tightly in his arms, kissing my forehead over and over, whispering, "Chloe, don't be scared. I'm right here."
His love had been passionate, sincere, and absolute.
My guarded heart, braced for an icy life, was completely thawed by his sudden devotion.
I fell for him, helplessly and deeply.
For a whole year after marriage, we were inseparable. He spoiled me like the happiest woman in the world.
And now, this very man was standing here, calmly claiming he wasn’t my husband?
"Julian, stop playing around," I said, my voice trembling uncontrollably. "This isn't funny."
The corner of his mouth twitched into a cold, mirthless sneer.
"Miss Vance, you need a reality check. Our marriage has been a transaction from the very beginning. As for the 'husband' you’re talking about? He’s gone."
At that exact second, my entire world collapsed."What are you talking about?" My mind went entirely blank. I could only ask instinctively.
Julian walked over to the sofa and sat down with effortless elegance, crossing his legs. He was back to being the untouchable, elite heir everyone feared.
When he looked at me, it was like looking at an inanimate object.
"To put it simply," he said in a flat tone, as if reading a financial report. "About six months ago, my body was hijacked by a consciousness calling itself a 'Tasker.'
"His sole purpose was to complete a so-called romance quest—to woo you and make you fall in love with him."
A Tasker? A romance quest?
These bizarre words struck my ears like gunshots, leaving me dizzy and disoriented.
"Now, his mission is done. He took his reward points and left. And I, Julian Sterling, the rightful owner of this body, am back."
He paused, his eyes resting on my pale, bloodless face without a shred of pity.
"So, Miss Vance, the last six months were nothing more than a ridiculous play. The man you fell for was just a hollow consciousness—a con artist who did whatever it took to hit his targets.”
“ Now that the curtain has dropped, I expect you to snap out of it and return to what we actually are: business partners."
"No... that’s impossible..." I muttered, stumbling backward until my spine hit the cold wall. "He wasn’t a liar! He loved me! I felt it!"
"Felt it?" Julian scoffed, his laugh laced with disdain.
"Women and their pathetic intuition. Everything he did was purely to check off his mission checklist. Now that I’m back, you’d better erase him from your mind. There will never be anything between us beyond mutual profit."
My tears finally broke free, streaming down my face.
All that suffocating devotion and spoiling... it had all been a calculated lie.
The person I fell in love with didn't even truly exist.
For the next few days, I lived like a walking corpse.
I tried to swallow this brutal truth.
I tried to convince myself that this icy Julian was my real, legal husband.
I forced myself to adapt to his rules. He hated clutter and bright colors, so I quietly boxed up the colorful throw pillows we had picked out together. He demanded absolute silence, so I walked on tiptoe around the house.
Until one afternoon, Martha, our housekeeper, brought out a bowl of fresh strawberries.
Plump, bright red, and smelling intensely sweet. My heart seized in pain.
Strawberries were my absolute favorite. And "his" favorite thing to do was feed them to me by hand, always biting off the green stem and saving the sweetest tips for me.
My eyes instantly welled up.
Sitting across from me reviewing documents, Julian caught the sweet scent in the air and frowned in disgust. "What is that smell? It’s sickeningly sweet."
"Sir, it's... strawberries for Chloe," Martha answered softly.
"Get rid of it," Julian ordered without looking up, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I despise strawberries."
Martha shot me a helpless look.
I sniffled and forced a weak smile. "It's fine, Martha. Take them away."
"If you're that desperate for them," Julian said suddenly, raising his sharp, penetrating gaze to me, "eat them when I'm not in the house."
His words carried a cruel clarity, like he could see right through the grief crashing inside me.
"Chloe Vance," he said, setting his papers down and leaning forward slightly. "You seem obsessed with a phantom. I suggest you get over it. That 'other guy' does not exist. And as for me?"
He pointed a finger at his own chest, his gaze cold and unyielding.
"I will never fall for any woman. In my world, the family empire is the only thing that matters."
When the strawberries were taken away, they took the very last shred of my self-delusion with them.
The man I loved was truly never coming back.Today was my birthday.
In the past, he would start planning weeks in advance, filling the entire day with breathtaking surprises and romance.
This year, I sat alone in this massive, empty mansion. Julian had left for the office early in the morning without leaving a single word behind, treating today like any other meaningless weekday.
I curled up on the sofa, burying my face into my knees, desperately hiding my pathetic state from the world.
Around dusk, the doorbell rang.
A ridiculous, desperate spark of hope flared in my chest. Was Julian home?
I opened the door, only to find a delivery courier standing on the porch.
"Chloe Vance? Birthday delivery for you. Please sign here."
I froze. After signing, I held the massive, beautifully wrapped box in my arms, my hands shaking violently.
It had to be him! He must have arranged this before he vanished!
Tearing through the wrapping paper, I found a breathtaking crystal music box inside. Carved onto the base was an inscription:
To my love, Chloe.
Tears instantly blinded my vision.
It was him. It really was him! He hadn’t forgotten me completely!
Right then, the front door clicked open. Julian walked in.
Seeing the gift box in my arms and the tears streaming down my face, his expression darkened in a heartbeat.
"What is that?" he demanded, walking over with a hostile tone.
"It's... my birthday gift," I whispered, instinctively clutching the box tighter against my chest.
"From whom?" he pressed, his eyes turning arctic.
I bit my lip, refusing to answer.
Understanding dawned on him, and a cruel sneer spread across his face. "Sent by that Tasker?" He ripped the box right out of my arms. "He really doesn't know when to disappear."
"Give it back!" Panicking, I lunged forward to grab it.
"Trash from a con artist doesn't belong under my roof." A wild, possessive rage flared in Julian's eyes. "I told you, he’s never coming back! Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?!"
He seemed to detest this gift with every fiber of his being, disgusted by any trace left behind by the man who had possessed him.
Gripping the box, he turned toward the balcony window, ready to hurl it into the night.
"No! Stop!" I screamed, throwing myself forward to intercept him.
My desperate reaction only infuriated him more. He whipped his arm back, and the box flew out of his grasp—not out the window, but crashing brutally onto the polished marble floor.
CRASH!
A deafening shatter of crystal rang through the cavernous living room.
The delicate music box was completely obliterated. Innumerable crystal shards scattered across the floor, glinting coldly under the chandelier. Nestled among the broken pieces were dozens of tightly rolled paper scrolls.
Trembling, I dropped to my knees and picked up the closest scroll, unrolling it with shaking fingers.
It was covered in his bold, familiar handwriting:
Day 1: She smiled today, showing the sweetest dimples. I think I'm in love.
I picked up another one:
Day 10: She finally called me babe today. I'm over the moon.
Day 30: She whispered that she loves me. In that moment, I felt like I owned the entire universe.
It wasn't just a music box.
It was a memory lamp crafted from countless handwritten confessions of love, documenting every single moment the Tasker had truly fallen for me.
This was my lover’s final birthday gift to me!
And now, it was smashed to pieces.
Shattered beyond repair.
Just like my heart.
Darkness rushed over my vision, and a wave of pure agony swallowed me whole.
Right before I blacked out, I vaguely thought I heard Julian shout my name in sheer panic: "Chloe!"
When I woke up, the air smelled heavily of antiseptic. I was in a hospital room.
An IV needle was taped to the back of my hand.
Julian was sitting by the bedside, his expression unreadable and tense.
"What happened to me?" I rasped, my throat raw.
He stayed quiet for a long moment before speaking slowly. "You passed out. The doctor said... you're pregnant. Six weeks."
Pregnant?
My hand instinctively moved to my flat stomach.
There was a tiny life growing inside me?
His baby!
A flicker of joy barely had time to spark before Julian’s next words doused it in freezing water.
He stared at my belly without a trace of joy. His gaze was full of scrutiny and naked disgust.
"This child..." he said, his voice low but cuttingly clear, "might carry my DNA. But to me, just like that Tasker, it shouldn't exist."
In his eyes, my baby was nothing more than an illegitimate mistake.Julian's words felt like a dull blade, carving into my already mangled heart piece by piece.
Staring at his cold profile, I suddenly laughed. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I chuckled.
Of course. To him, this pregnancy was a sickening reminder of the parasite that had stolen his body. Why would he ever welcome it?
And what about me?
The man I loved had vanished. This baby was the only connection I had left to him.
Was I supposed to let my child grow up with a father who hated him?
Was I supposed to let him bear the Sterling name only to live under his father’s disgusted sneers, branded as a mistake that should never have happened?
No. I couldn't be that cruel.
My baby deserved to grow up surrounded by pure, unconditional love.
Since his real father was already gone...
I wiped my tears and looked at Julian, my face pale but utterly composed. "Don't worry. I won't keep the baby. I wouldn't want my child calling a cold-blooded stranger his father anyway."
Julian's head snapped toward me, shock flashing across his face. He clearly hadn't expected me to be this decisive.
"I'll schedule the termination myself," I continued, pouring every ounce of my remaining strength into each word.
"Once I recover, we'll file for divorce. The Vance family might be struggling, but we have enough left to take care of me."
I pulled out my phone and messaged the family attorney I had consulted before, instructing him to draft an immediate divorce agreement and bring it to the hospital.
When I finished, I closed my eyes, refusing to look at Julian again.
Julian didn't say a word. The VIP suite fell into a suffocating, tomb-like silence. I could feel his burning gaze pinned on me, but I didn't care.
Nothing hurts more than a completely dead heart.
To my surprise, the silence was shattered by Julian's parents.
Julian was the sole heir of the Sterling empire. My pregnancy represented the continuation of their entire bloodline.
Someone had leaked the news. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling arrived at the hospital in full force, flanked by a security detail.
They burst in just as my lawyer handed me the freshly printed divorce papers.
"Divorce?!" Eleanor Sterling’s sharp screech shattered the room. "Chloe Vance, don't you dare! You're carrying a Sterling heir. Where do you think you're taking our bloodline?"
Edward Sterling turned directly to his son, barking out an absolute decree:
"I don't care what petty fight you two are having! That child will be born healthy and safe! If a single hair on my grandchild is harmed, I will hold you personally responsible!"
Julian’s face was livid, but he kept his jaw clenched shut.
A pounding headache seized me. It was utterly sickening. A bunch of people obsessed with an heir, yet not a single one cared about the baby itself, or about me.
The chaos dragged on until late into the night.
Julian finally managed to usher his parents out, leaving just the two of us in the quiet room once again.
Too exhausted to lift a finger, I slipped into a heavy slumber.
Drifting between sleep and reality, a familiar, comforting aroma of chicken broth tickled my senses.
I slowly blinked my eyes open. A silhouette was bustling around the small kitchenette inside the luxury suite.
That posture, that side profile, that clumsy way he handled the ingredients...
My heart slammed against my ribs.
The vision sharpened. I saw him accidentally knock over the salt shaker, jump back when the steam hissed from the pot, turning the kitchen into a complete mess.
That clumsy, awful cook who insisted on making me comfort food... it was him.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, my heart began to pound violently.
Did he... come back?Tears spilled over without warning.
I pushed the blanket aside, stepping barefoot onto the floor, walking toward the kitchen like a woman in a trance.
Hearing footsteps, he turned around.
Catching sight of me, he froze for a second. Then, that familiar, tender, deeply indulgent smile spread across his face—the exact smile I had been dying for.
"Chloe, why are you out of bed? The floor is freezing." He set his spoon down and rushed over to me.
It was Julian's face, but the icy cruelty was entirely gone. In its place was raw, agonizing adoration and concern.
"You..." My throat closed up; I couldn't squeeze out another syllable.
He reached me and gently gathered me into his arms. The embrace was warm, solid, and filled with his familiar scent.
"I'm sorry," he whispered against my ear. "I'm so sorry for scaring you."
This was it! This was him!
Every ounce of humiliation, heartbreak, and despair I had bottled up over the past weeks exploded all at once.
I buried my face in his chest and broke down, sobbing hysterically.
"You're back... you're really back... I thought you were gone forever..." I babbled through my tears. "I missed you so much... I missed you so, so much..."
His body stiffened for a fraction of a second, but he relaxed almost immediately, his hand gently patting my back. "Shh, it's okay. Don't cry. I'm right here, aren't I? It's my fault. I made you suffer."
Maybe it was my exhaustion, or maybe I was just so drunk on the relief of having him back, but I completely missed that fleeting stiffness in his posture.
I genuinely believed my lover had returned, that the cold Julian had been pushed aside by the Tasker once again.
For the next three months, our life felt like a dream.
He stayed by my side constantly, catering to my every whim. He remembered all my cravings, patiently drove me to every single prenatal checkup, and pressed his ear against my belly to listen for kicks, his face glowing with pure joy.
Yet, once in a while, tiny cracks appeared.
Like when he peeled apples for me—he would break the peel several times, clumsy, unlike his usual effortless skill.
Or when we rewatched our favorite movies, he would stare blankly at iconic scenes, as if seeing them for the very first time.
Whenever I questioned him, he’d laugh it off. "I'm just rusty," or, "You're the pregnant one, why is my brain turning to mush?"
So I brushed it aside, chalking it up to my own paranoia. As long as he was here, as long as he loved me, what did these tiny flaws matter?
I willingly drowned in the paradise he spun around me.
Until that night.
Julian had attended a critical corporate gala and drank heavily. By the time the chauffeur brought him home, he was completely wasted.
I helped him into bed, using a warm towel to wipe down his face and hands.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. Those gorgeous eyes weren't filled with his usual calm warmth; they were burning with a deep, suffocating grief and longing.
With a sudden yank, he pulled me violently into his arms, crushing me against his chest as if trying to merge my bones into his own.
He buried his face into the crook of my neck. His scorching breath washed over my skin, his voice thick with tears and ragged emotion.
"Chloe..." he choked out, repeating my name over and over. "I missed you so damn much..."
Those words carried such immense, tragic weight, as if he had crossed oceans and lifetimes just to say them.
My heart trembled violently under the raw force of his grief.
Chapters (5)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Watch & Promotions
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