Dinner is indeed casual—gourmet pizza served in the penthouse's informal dining area, with Leo chattering excitedly about his new room and all the things "Daddy" has promised to show him. Ethan listens attentively, asking questions about Leo's favorite dinosaurs, his friends back in Singapore, his interests beyond paleontology.

It's surreal, watching them together—this instant family created through legal documents and DNA tests. Yet there's an undeniable rightness to it as well. Leo needs a father, and whatever else Ethan might be, he seems genuinely committed to that role.


After dinner, Ethan suggests a movie in the penthouse's home theater—another room I haven't seen yet. Leo chooses "Jurassic Park," naturally, and the three of us settle onto the oversized sectional sofa facing a screen that would put most commercial theaters to shame.

As the movie plays, Leo gradually grows sleepy, eventually nodding off with his head on Ethan's lap and his feet on mine. We sit in silence, connected by our sleeping child, until the credits roll.

"I'll carry him to bed," Ethan offers, gently lifting Leo into his arms.


I follow them to Leo's room, watching as Ethan lays him on the spaceship bed with surprising tenderness. Together, we remove his shoes and tuck him under the covers, his new dinosaur toy clutched against his chest.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," I whisper, kissing his forehead.


"Sweet dreams, son," Ethan adds softly, his hand lingering on Leo's hair.

We leave the room quietly, a nightlight casting a gentle glow over our sleeping child. In the hallway, an awkward silence falls between us—the artificial intimacy of putting our son to bed giving way to the reality of our arrangement.

"Would you like a drink?" Ethan offers. "I have an excellent Macallan 25."

I hesitate, then nod. "One drink."

He leads me to his study—a masculine space with leather furniture, bookshelves, and a bar cart stocked with premium spirits. As he pours two glasses of amber liquid, I take in the room that most reflects his personality—orderly, elegant, with subtle displays of power in the form of awards and photographs with world leaders.

"To new beginnings," he says, offering me a glass.

It's the third time I've heard that toast in two days. From Ethan at our dinner, from Marcus at lunch, and now from my new husband on our wedding night. Each time, the words have felt like both a promise and a threat.

"To Leo," I counter, clinking my glass against his. "The one innocent in all of this."

Ethan's expression softens at the mention of our son. "He's remarkable, Olivia. You've done an amazing job raising him."

"Thank you," I reply, genuinely touched by the compliment. "It hasn't always been easy."

"I can imagine," he says, settling into one of the leather armchairs and gesturing for me to take the other. "Single mother, building a business from scratch, all while keeping his existence secret from the world. It must have been lonely."

The observation, so accurate and yet so unexpected, catches me off guard. "It was necessary," I say after a moment. "After what happened in New York... I couldn't risk anyone connecting Leo to that scandal. Or to you."

"And yet here we are," Ethan muses, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Married, living together, about to introduce our son to New York society. Quite a change of strategy."

"Circumstances changed," I reply carefully. "Leo is starting school soon. He needs stability, a permanent home. And yes, a father."

"Is that the only reason you agreed to this marriage?" Ethan asks, his blue eyes intent on mine. "For Leo's sake?"

The question dangles between us, loaded with implications. What is he really asking? Whether I have feelings for him? Whether I have ulterior motives? Both would be dangerous admissions.

"Why else would I marry a man I barely know?" I counter, deflecting the question back to him.

"For the same reason I married you," he replies smoothly. "Protection. Resources. A united front against whatever challenges might come."

His answer is perfect—logical, pragmatic, devoid of emotion. Exactly what our arrangement is supposed to be. So why does it leave me feeling oddly disappointed?

"Speaking of challenges," I say, changing the subject. "The Riverside Gala tomorrow. Who will be there?"

"Everyone who matters in New York," Ethan replies, allowing the shift in conversation. "Business leaders, politicians, old money families. Including, I believe, Charles Morgan and his daughter Cassandra."

My pulse quickens at the confirmation. "Have you had business dealings with them before?"

"Occasionally," Ethan says, watching me over the rim of his glass. "Charles is old-school, resistant to innovation. Cassandra tries to compensate with aggressive strategies she doesn't fully understand. They're running Morgan Group into the ground between them."

His assessment is accurate—and exactly why my acquisition plan will succeed. The Morgan Group is vulnerable, weakened by years of mismanagement under Cassandra's influence.

"And Diana Morgan?" I ask, keeping my tone casual. "Charles's second wife?"

"The power behind the throne," Ethan replies. "Smarter than both of them, but limited by her role as the wife. She's the one to watch."

Again, his assessment aligns with my own. Diana has always been the dangerous one—calculating, patient, willing to play the long game. As she did with my mother.

"I'll keep that in mind," I say, finishing my whiskey and setting the glass aside. "It's getting late. I should get some rest before tomorrow."

Ethan rises as I stand, ever the gentleman. "Of course. The housekeeper, Mrs. Chen, arrives at seven. She'll help with Leo's breakfast if you have early meetings."

"I've adjusted my schedule to be home in the mornings," I reply. "At least until Leo is settled into this new routine."

Ethan nods, approval flickering in his eyes. "I've done the same. Perhaps we could take him to school together on his first day."

The suggestion—so normal, so parental—catches me off guard again. This is what I wanted, isn't it? A co-parent for Leo, a partner in the day-to-day responsibilities of raising a child?

"That would be nice," I agree, surprising myself with my sincerity.

We walk together to the hallway where our bedrooms diverge—his to the left, mine to the right. Another awkward moment as we pause at the junction, neither quite sure how to end this strange wedding day.

"Goodnight, Olivia," Ethan says finally, his voice lower than usual.

"Goodnight... husband," I reply, testing the word on my tongue.

Something flashes in his eyes—heat, possession, something primal that makes my breath catch. For a moment, I think he might kiss me again, might suggest that our arrangement could include more than separate bedrooms and co-parenting duties.

Instead, he takes my hand and raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles just above the wedding band he placed there hours ago.

"Sleep well, wife," he murmurs against my skin, then releases my hand and turns toward his bedroom.

I watch him go, my hand tingling where his lips touched it, confusion and unwanted attraction warring within me. This wasn't part of the plan—this awareness of Ethan as a man, not just as a means to an end.

In my suite, I change into silk pajamas and complete my nightly routine, trying to ignore the unfamiliar surroundings. The bed, when I slide between the sheets, is obscenely comfortable—custom-made, no doubt, like everything else in Ethan's world.

Our world now, I remind myself. For the next year at least, this is my life—luxury beyond imagination, a ready-made family for Leo, and a husband who is equal parts ally and potential enemy.

As I drift toward sleep, my phone buzzes with a text from Marcus:

*"Diana Morgan spotted meeting with Nathaniel Pierce tonight. Surveillance photos attached. They know something."*

I open the attached images to find Diana and Nathaniel—Cassandra's accomplice in my downfall—huddled at a corner table in a dimly lit bar. Their expressions are serious, conspiratorial. Planning something.

Sleep suddenly seems impossible. I sit up, forwarding the photos to my investigator with instructions to dig deeper into Nathaniel's recent activities. If Diana is meeting with him, it can't be coincidence. They must suspect something about my return, about my true identity.

The game is accelerating, pieces moving faster than I anticipated. Tomorrow at the gala, I'll come face to face with the people who destroyed my life—my father, my stepsister, her mother. They won't recognize me immediately, but how long before they connect the dots? Before they realize that Ethan Knight's mysterious new wife is the stepdaughter they thought they'd destroyed?

And what will Ethan do when he discovers the full truth about my past—and my plans for revenge?

These questions chase each other through my mind as I stare at the ceiling, sleep elusive despite the luxurious comfort surrounding me. In the darkness of my first night as Olivia Knight, I face the possibility that I've miscalculated—that in binding myself to Ethan, I may have created a vulnerability in my carefully constructed armor.

Because despite all my precautions, despite the prenuptial agreements and separate bedrooms and business-like approach to our marriage, one undeniable truth remains:

I'm attracted to my husband. And that attraction could destroy everything I've worked for.