Chapter 4

The very next day, Carlo and I moved into our new life starting with a small, modest apartment, nothing fancy, but cheap, cozy, and perfectly within the budget we had carefully set aside.

It was far from the sprawling mansions and lavish penthouses he had grown up in, but to me, it felt like a palace. Here, there were no cold glares, no impossible expectations, and no one looking through me like I was invisible. It was just ours.

That same evening, he sat across from me at our tiny dining table, sliding a stack of neatly printed papers toward me, his expression soft yet serious.

“I want you to read every line,” he said gently,

“and sign only if you agree to every word.”

My fingers brushed the crisp pages, and as I scanned through the text, my breath caught. It was our marriage contract but far from the cold, legal document I had imagined. It laid out every promise we had made to each other, clear and unwavering

(if, after three years, I still could not love him as a husband and partner, if my heart never fully opened to him, he would set me free without any conditions, no strings attached, no questions asked. But if, within those three years, I found myself falling for him if I chose him not out of fear or obligation, but out of love then we would tear this contract up, renew our vows properly, and hold the grand, beautiful wedding I had never dared to dream of.)

A soft, giddy smile spread across my face as I traced the words with my fingertips. It was perfect. More than perfect it was the most beautiful promise anyone had ever given me.

“Is there anything you want me to add? Any clause, any change?” Carlo asked, leaning forward, his dark eyes searching mine, desperate to make sure I felt safe and seen.

I shook my head quickly, my heart swelling.

“No. Not a single word. It’s… it’s far more perfect than I ever deserved.”

And so our life together began, and it unfolded even better than the contract had promised. Day after day, night after night, Carlo proved to be everything I had never thought existed.

He was born into a world of luxury and privilege, yet I never once saw him act entitled or demanding.

He was endlessly kind, endlessly gentle, treating me with a reverence that made me feel like the most precious treasure in the world. Even after months of marriage, our union remained unconsummated not because he did not want me, but because he respected every single one of my boundaries.

He waited, patient and steady, never pushing, never rushing, always reminding me that my comfort came before anything else. That respect alone made me fall for him a little more with every passing sunrise.

There were hard days, too days when the cruel whispers of the world found their way to us.

Rumors had spread like wildfire across the entire city the Bernasors’ unwanted eldest daughter had run away, eloped with some unknown, penniless man, ruining her family’s reputation. They dragged my name through the mud, painting me as reckless, ungrateful, and foolish.

Even the thought of returning to school filled me with dread, imagining the stares, the whispers, the pitying or mocking glances. But none of it mattered not really. Because unlike the fate my parents had tried to chain me to being sold off to a vile old man twice my age I had chosen freedom.

I had chosen him.

All the gossip in the world could never compare to the joy of being married to the right man.

Years rolled by in a blur of quiet happiness and hard work. When we finally graduated from university, we wasted no time in building the life we had dreamed of. We launched our small enterprise from scratch no help from his wealthy family, no favors, no handouts, just our own hands and our shared grit.

Carlo was the face and the drive, leading meetings, pitching ideas, and navigating the sharp world of business with his natural charm and sharp intellect.

But I became his greatest secret weapon. While he handled the public side of things, I worked quietly beside him poring over numbers, analyzing market trends, checking every detail of his paperwork late into the night, and crafting strategies that kept us hitting every target, every milestone we set.

I was his confidant, his anchor, and his partner in every true sense of the word.

And we soared.

In just two short years, our small venture grew faster than anyone expected, turning into a thriving, respected company that earned admiration across the industry.

People began to speak Carlo’s name with awe, unaware that the steady hand guiding much of his success was his unknown wife, working just out of the spotlight.

Even my own family the Bernasors could not ignore our rise.

Overnight, the same parents and sister who had thrown me away like trash began crawling back, shamelessly trying to leech off Carlo’s growing wealth and influence, offering fake partnerships and feigned interest.

But Carlo, ever my protector, rejected every single advance, every proposal, every attempt to use his name all for my sake.

He told them in no uncertain terms that they would never benefit from anything connected to him, not after what they had done to me.

Seeing them humbled, grasping for crumbs, filled my heart with a quiet, sweet triumph.

He was, in every possible way, the perfect husband.

Carlo often spoke of revealing me to the world, of introducing me proudly as his wife, but I always shook my head and asked for more time.

It was never because I did not love him far from it.

I stayed hidden to protect us.

If my parents and sister knew exactly who I was, exactly how well I was doing, they would use me as leverage, try to tear our peace apart just as they always had. I wanted us to be unshakeable before I stepped out from the shadows.

Even his parents, the elegant, formidable couple who had once intimidated me, became a source of pure joy.

They visited us often, bringing gifts, filling our home with warmth during holidays and birthdays, loving me as if I had been their daughter since birth.

For the first time in my life, I knew what it felt like to have a family that cherished me.

And the funniest, most satisfying secret of all? Carlo told me one day, with a roll of his eyes and a soft laugh, that my own sister Janelle had been sending him expensive gifts, flowers, and invitations to his office trying desperately to charm him, to seduce the husband she never even knew belonged to me.

But her attempts were nothing but a joke. Carlo only had eyes for me, and deep down, the truth I had been hiding from even myself was impossible to deny anymore: I did not just love him I adored him, with every beat of my healed, happy heart.

I would sit at home sometimes, watching him on the television, attending grand galas and elite gatherings where everyone bowed to his success.

I would see women cluster around him, smiling and vying for his attention, and my chest swelled not with jealousy, but with fierce pride.

My husband. The man who turned every advance away with polite but firm distance, his thoughts always with the woman waiting for him at home.

He never missed an occasion, never forgot a small gift, never let a single day go by without reminding me how much I meant to him.

Now, as our third wedding anniversary drew near, I picked up our contract again, my fingers tracing the words I knew by heart.

Just a few more months, and the three years would be up.

Carlo had promised to renew it, to give me the grand wedding I deserved, to finally let the whole world know I was his.

But this time, I did not want to wait for him to make the next move.

I had spent three years watching him love me, protect me, and build our dreams.

Now, with my heart full to bursting, it was my turn. I would be the one to surprise him.

I would be the one to tell him that the contract no longer mattered, that I was already, irrevocably, and completely his forever..