When it came to the arranged marriage for our family merger, I picked the only doctor in a sea of billionaire heirs. But after the wedding, I realized he was basically that one overworked doctor friend in every romance novel who gets called at 3 AM to treat the female lead. After witnessing it firsthand several times, I gave up on trying to develop feelings for him. I mean, who knows if I'll end up having to fight his billionaire friends for his attention? But what I didn't expect was... he could read my mind. 1 For people like us, we always knew the day of the arranged marriage would come. It's fine. After enjoying so many privileges, it's normal to pay a price. I was lucky enough to choose my own partner—from a pool of heirs in our social circle. Honestly, it didn't matter who it was. Everyone knows these marriages are just for show, a business transaction between two families. But since I had a choice, I wanted someone relatively normal. According to my intel: One guy was entangled with his first love abroad. Pass. Another was playing a game of "she runs, he chases" with his sugar baby. Pass. Another just started sponsoring a D-list actress. Hard pass. After filtering through the trash, I thought of Julian Sterling. My impression of him was limited: gentle, reserved, expensive. His name sounded like a standard CEO, but he was the only one in the group who wasn't a corporate shark. Julian was a doctor. A genuine academic who got into Johns Hopkins Medical School on his own merit and completed his MD/PhD. He fit the image perfectly: soft-spoken, polite, clean-cut. Every time I saw him, he was in light-colored suits. With the doctor filter, he seemed almost saintly. Our engagement went smoothly. Our parents hit it off immediately. I heard Julian agreed without hesitation too. So, within a month, I went from single since birth to a married woman. On our wedding day, I moved into the house he bought. Beige decor, very him. Julian gave me a tour, then led me to the master bedroom door. His voice was warm. "I know this is an arranged marriage, but I don't want it to be just a formality. I hope we can take it slow, get to know each other, and build a relationship." He pointed to the guest room opposite. "I'll sleep there. Don't be nervous. I won't force anything until we're both ready." I went into my room and closed the door. Honestly, he was better than I expected. I always assumed that even without scandals, birds of a feather flock together. His friends all had "CEO Syndrome"—keeping mistresses, dramatic relationships. Although he seemed different, I didn't have high hopes. I just wanted a peaceful coexistence. As long as no one caused a scene in front of me, I wouldn't meddle in his private life. Two months flew by. One night, after a shower, I lay in bed looking at a skimpy nightgown I'd bought. My heart started racing. Julian might be a gentleman with no impure thoughts. But I wasn't! Single for twenty-something years, barely held a man's hand, but my mind was full of yellow trash. With a legitimate, incredibly handsome husband right there, why live like a nun? Plus, over the last two months, he came home at 6 PM sharp every day. We had cozy dinners, leisurely weekend shopping trips. He waited while I got my nails and hair done, and watched trashy soap operas with me on the couch. I had to admit, I was catching feelings. 2 One day, while shopping with friends, I checked my phone: 5:30 PM. My first thought was, Time to go home. I paused, then felt a wave of complex emotions. I realized I truly considered that house my home. I felt a sense of belonging I never expected. Having seen the chaos in our circle—including my own parents' messes with lovers showing up or secret children appearing—I thought I had given up on love and family. But the power of a slow burn surprised me. Thinking about my time with Julian and what I knew of his character, I gained the confidence to gamble once. Maybe trusting someone, trusting love, could lead to a good result? Julian's parents were a rare example of a loving couple in our circle. Raised by them, Julian's character should be trustworthy, right? Even if it's a trap, maybe everyone has to walk through it once. I changed into a black lace nightgown, tiptoed to Julian's door, struck the most flattering pose I learned online, and knocked lightly. The door opened. Julian froze. He looked around blankly, finding nothing to cover me with, and gave up. After a few moments of eye contact, his gaze darkened. He asked slowly, "Chloe, are you sure?" Upon my confirmation, he picked me up. The room was dim, lit only by a warm bedside lamp. I felt my temperature rising, my brain turning to mush. Head tilted, I saw the pristine white sheets and thought inappropriately, Those are going to be hard to clean. I never found out. Just as Julian loosened his tie, his phone rang. He took a few deep breaths, exhaling hot air, braced one hand by my ear, and grabbed his phone. "Dr. Sterling, Mr. Vance drank too much and is in severe pain. Can you come take a look?" The anxious male voice on the other end sounded familiar—like an assistant to one of the CEOs. Julian paused. His voice was incredibly hoarse. "I know. Wait a moment." I snapped out of my haze, grabbing his half-removed shirt. With mixed emotions, I murmured, "Don't go!" Julian met my gaze, then lowered his head to coax me gently. "Be good. I'll go check on him." Watching him dress to leave, anger flared. I stared at his back, cursing internally: "Be good~ I'll go check~ Heh, who knows if he's checking on a bro or a babe." He paused, stuttered in his movements, and turned to look at me with a complicated expression. "What?" I asked. He shook his head and continued dressing. I continued my internal monologue: "Go, go. Who can stop you? You're the savior. Ambulances are useless, hospitals are useless. You have magic powers; only you can save him..." After venting, I felt better. I thought I saw him stumble on his way out, but maybe I imagined it. He was known for being unflappable. Before closing the door, he said, "Chloe, I'll be back soon." I fell asleep waiting. When I woke up, he was sleeping next to me, back in last night's pajamas. It made me even angrier. What kind of man changes clothes and leaves in that situation?! I angrily bit into my toast. Julian appeared from somewhere. Seeing my expression, he chuckled softly, hugged me from behind, and whispered in my ear, "Sorry. Liam Vance is in big trouble lately. He had a gastric bleed recently, so I was worried and went to check." It happened; I didn't want to dwell on it. However, after he went to work, I watched a CEO drama on TV. The plot reached the point where the female lead got hurt while running away, and the male lead called his doctor friend to treat her. Epiphany struck. Every CEO novel I'd read flooded my brain. Wait, isn't Julian exactly like that miserable doctor friend who always gets called at midnight? We have tons of CEOs around us. Gastric bleeds. Doctor friend. Midnight calls. Bingo. Imagining Julian being summoned by this CEO today and that CEO tomorrow, treated like a tool, looking like a dusty puppy... I couldn't help but laugh. That night, I made no move, but Julian knocked on my door. Hair styled, faint cologne. His eyes smiled as they landed on me. "Can you take me in tonight?" 3 I raised an eyebrow. "What? No one needs a checkup tonight?" He didn't speak. He cupped my face and lowered his head for a kiss, gently nibbling. With last night's experience, things went smoother. Until he took off his shirt. We both froze, terrified of a phone call. We looked at the phone simultaneously, then at each other, and almost burst out laughing. He leaned in, voice unable to hide his amusement. "I won't leave tonight." My face flushed red. Whatever. He made it sound like I was desperate. ... That night reminded me of a saying: Don't judge a book by its cover. Julian was a good man. Objectively speaking. At work, he was dedicated to researching cures for terminal illnesses. He had a great temper, was filial to his parents, sincere to friends, and consistently caring toward me. However, being too good had its downsides. It wasn't the first time a friend called during our anniversary or a planned trip. Not often, but always catching us off guard. The assistants' voices were always trembling and pitiful. Sometimes a CEO drank until his stomach bled. Sometimes a forced-love scenario left someone physically collapsed. What could I do? They made it sound life-threatening. Even though I wondered: Is calling an ambulance that hard? Does it have to be Julian? I laughed about him being a tool in a novel, but this was reality. Not calling the police or going to a hospital was ridiculous. Even though he always rushed back as soon as possible. The mood was ruined. The excitement was gone. Today was our first wedding anniversary. Last night, I specifically told Julian I didn't want any disturbances today. His lab work had made progress recently, and he'd been working late. We finally had a leisurely grocery trip together. For my birthday, Julian came home early and cooked. It shocked me. It tasted as good as our family chef's cooking, and every dish was my favorite. When we first got together, we made a big deal of every holiday. Now, for our anniversary, we just wanted to shop and cook a cozy dinner. I sat at the table watching Julian busy in the kitchen, feeling a bit dazed. A year ago, I never would have imagined my married life would be like this. Not fiery, but warm. I walked over and hugged his waist from behind. He laughed and was about to speak. The phone rang. I pressed my lips together. After a year, I had PTSD from his ringtone. I pressed my ear against his back. On the phone, another assistant, voice anxious: "Dr. Sterling, please come quickly..." Anger surged. I bit my lip, snatched the phone, and asked genuinely, "Can you not call an ambulance? Can you not drive him to the hospital?" Silence on the other end. I hung up, still angry. "That was Noah's assistant, right? I recognize the voice. Do you really believe Noah, that playboy, is drinking himself to death over a woman?!" Julian frowned, hesitating. "I heard he really likes someone recently..." "The people he's liked over the years wouldn't fit in a bus!" I gritted my teeth. "Anyway, if you go, let's stop talking about feelings. Your bros are clearly more important. Just live with your bros." He left anyway. 4 Even though he coaxed me gently, "I'll just take a look. I'll be back in the time it takes you to watch one episode, okay?" I was disappointed. My heart sank. Compared to others' dramatic loves, our journey was too smooth, too plain. My only complaint was wishing the CEOs would grow up and stop dragging Julian into their messes. I had thought about it. Even though my "rivals" were these unexpected men. Julian's attitude mattered. I'd heard rumors in our circle that some of these illnesses were fake. Tricks to win sympathy or fool the board. They were lies. Even I could tell the difference now. I didn't believe Julian couldn't. I'm not smart, and I hate trouble. My solution to difficult things is acceptance or avoidance. Like the arranged marriage. Who wants to marry a stranger? But I couldn't resist. And honestly, I couldn't give up my luxurious life. So I accepted it. Simplest way. Julian was nice. We got along. As a political marriage partner, he was perfect. I didn't care when he was home or if his friends called him away. But as a lover? I couldn't accept fighting his friends for him. I didn't want to live in fear of a ringtone. My words weren't just out of spite. I had decided. If this happened again—if he left knowing it was likely fake—then forget it. We could just be a business couple. Simple. Julian panicked on the drive. Since the wedding day, he could inexplicably hear Chloe's thoughts. He usually knew her reactions. But when he left just now, he heard nothing. Silence. He sped up, wanting to check on Noah and get home. At the bar, Julian found Noah drinking and flirting, perfectly fine. Julian gritted his teeth and turned to leave. He'd seen Noah act dramatic over love before. That's why he came, worried it might be real, even angering Chloe. Noah saw him and had his assistant block him. Noah lounged on the sofa, smiling lazily. "No way, Julian. Leaving before you sit?" Julian frowned, eyes cold. "Noah, you know the story of the boy who cried wolf. Don't call me again." "Don't be like that. It's hard to get you out since you got married. Is the wife... strict?" Noah didn't care, still slouching. Julian glared. Noah straightened up. Julian was known for his temper—good until you crossed a line. This was the first time Noah saw him this serious. Silence. Julian pushed past the assistant. "She is my wife. Don't talk about her like that." After he left, the assistant hesitated. "Actually, when I called, Dr. Sterling's wife seemed to know it was fake and didn't want him to come." Noah felt a pang of guilt. So Julian fought with his wife for him? The assistant continued, "Today seems to be their anniversary." In the dark corner, Noah put down his glass. "Damn. I really am a piece of sh*t." When Julian returned, I was in the living room. Normal. He tried to hug me. I dodged. He looked at me with puppy dog eyes, using his beauty against me. I ignored it. After dinner, I stopped him before he showered. I pointed to the guest room. "I had it cleaned. Since it's a family alliance, no need for intimacy. We just need to keep up appearances." I raised a brow. "If that room is too small, I can move there. You take the master. You bought the house, after all." I closed the door, shutting him out. I didn't want to see his face. I was afraid I'd soften. Back in my room, I exhaled. Seeing him affected me too much. So, I shouldn't see him. I never knew I had such executive function. I booked a ticket and packed that night. The next morning, I sneaked out early with my luggage.
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