Five years in Hollywood and I was still a nobody. My only option was to go home and agree to an arranged marriage with a man I'd never met. My fiancé apparently hated me. He didn't even show up to our engagement dinner. Instead, he called me to lay down three ground rules. "Hello. I already have someone I love. You don't need to waste your time on me." "You are free to date whoever you want. I won't interfere." "This marriage is purely a business transaction. We will divorce in exactly one year. Prepare yourself mentally, and don't come crying to me when it's time to sign the papers." He rattled off his demands and hung up immediately. Meanwhile, I stood at the door of his home office, lost in thought. The entire room was filled to the brim with my merchandise. 1 I changed my name and braved Hollywood for five years. Despite agencies throwing all sorts of resources my way, I just never managed to break through. I was the definition of a C-list actress. So, I had no choice but to bow my head to my parents and fulfill my end of the bargain: an arranged marriage to secure our family's business interests. My fiancé was Carter Sterling, the cold, quiet, and ruthlessly efficient CEO of the Sterling Group. According to my friends in high society, Carter had a face so sinfully attractive he could be considered a modern-day incubus. It was easy for people to let their guard down around him, thinking he was a refined and easygoing guy. But in reality, the true Carter was cold-blooded, harsh, emotionally detached, and cared only about the bottom line. By the time my friend finished describing him, her tone had grown entirely sympathetic. "Chloe, everyone feels so sorry for you." "Having to marry a cold-blooded monster like that." "Who knows what kind of miserable life you'll have to endure." I gripped my phone tightly. After a long silence, I could only let out a helpless, bitter laugh. After hanging up, I opened my social media management app. I hit publish on the retirement statement that had been sitting in my drafts for months. 2 Even though I was practically a nobody, I still had a few die-hard fans. The moment my retirement statement went live, those familiar usernames flooded my DMs. Among the dense sea of messages, one user named "Q" stood out. I couldn't be more familiar with this person. For the past five years, every time I posted an update, he was always the first to like and comment. He was my ultimate superfan. And because he clearly used top-tier camera equipment, every photo he took of me at public events was a high-definition masterpiece. He poured massive amounts of money into supporting me—buying billboards, organizing fan projects—so the rest of my fandom affectionately called him "Bro Q." Clicking into his profile, his pinned post was a mega-compilation of my best video clips, along with a video of him doing a TikTok dance trend I had started. Although he never showed his face, every movement was earnest, revealing a slight, endearing clumsiness. But what made me remember him most were his comments. No flowery praise, no over-the-top confessions of love. Just one simple, almost stubborn sentence every single time: "I hope you are happy every day." But today, he broke his usual pattern. A massive wall of text filled the chat box. He wrote about how he stumbled upon my videos during the darkest days of his life. He wrote about how a random, lighthearted comment I made helped him survive a night of terrible insomnia. He wrote about how his fingers trembled with excitement every time he saw I had updated. Finally, as if using up all his strength, he spoke with restrained yet profound sincerity: "I'm sorry, this might be a bit forward of me." "But I still want to tell you... to me, you are a ray of light, a lifeline. You are the motivation that keeps me going." "Knowing you these past five years has made me so incredibly happy every single day." "Chloe, you are as important to me as my own life." I stared at the screen, noticing several typos in a row. He must have been typing frantically, his fingers trembling so much that he couldn't even press the keys properly as he broke down. After reading his heartfelt essay, my eyes welled up with tears. I took a moment to reply very earnestly. "Thank you for your support and love over the past five years. I hope you are happy every day too. If fate allows, we'll meet again." 3 After replying to all my private messages one by one, I took a deep breath, suppressed my reluctance, and prepared to deactivate my account. But suddenly, my fiancé's name caught my eye. He was trending at #1 on X— #CarterSterlingCryingInCar Curious, I clicked on the hashtag, and a ten-second video auto-played. The dim yellow light of a streetlamp illuminated Carter's sharp, sculpted profile. His long eyelashes were lowered, his shoulders trembling slightly, and the tear tracks on his face were clearly visible. He radiated a sense of brokenness, as if he were on the verge of despair. The replies were going crazy. "Oh my god, the Devil of Wall Street is actually crying? Did the sun rise in the west today..." "Lmao, with those pathetic noises, I thought his Maybach was haunted." "Scary, scary. Whatever demon possessed our CEO Sterling, please get out of his body quickly..." "So what exactly could make this cold-blooded demon king shed tears?" That comment sparked a wave of speculation about why Carter was crying. Some said he was in agony over being forced into an arranged marriage. Others said the stress of running a billion-dollar empire had finally broken him. But whatever the reason, I couldn't care less. I skimmed the comments absentmindedly and went back to coordinating my post-retirement affairs with my agent. 4 At 2:00 AM, I dragged my exhausted body home. As soon as I opened my phone, I saw that the man who had been trending all afternoon was now in my friend requests. The verification message was just two simple words: "Carter Sterling." I hesitated for a second before clicking on his profile. His profile picture was pitch black. His bio was completely blank. His display name was just the letter "C." Everything about his profile screamed, Stay away from me. I rubbed my throbbing temples and helplessly hit 'Accept.' Carter immediately sent a voice memo. His tone was freezing cold and distant. He sounded like a man dealing with a nuisance he couldn't shake off, barely maintaining basic politeness and breeding: [Miss Vance. Hello. I am your fiancé, Carter Sterling.] I wasn't used to sending voice memos, so I typed back: [Hello.] Carter had no intention of making small talk. He cut straight to the chase: [I already have someone I love. She is the only person I will ever love in this lifetime. Therefore, you do not need to waste your time on me after we are married.] [Our marriage is simply a transaction. I don't mind an open marriage. You are free to find whoever you like, and I won't interfere. Similarly, you are not to interfere in my affairs.] [Miss Vance, your father mentioned that you have a first love who currently lives out of state. I happen to travel out of state frequently for business. I wouldn't mind bringing you along to create opportunities for you two to meet.] I was stunned. I asked in disbelief: [Are you saying you'd cover for me so I can go see my ex?] Carter: [Yes. That is exactly what I mean.] [After all, I don't want you clinging to me. It's best if you have someone you like. It will give me peace of mind.] [...] For a moment, I didn't know what to say: [Keep going. What else?] Carter: [Also, I want you to remember at all times that our marriage will only last for one year.] [After one year, we will get a divorce. When the time comes, do not cry and make a scene, refusing to sign the papers. It will be very embarrassing for both our families.] Me: [Okay, don't worry about that. I won't.] Hearing my guarantee, Carter visibly let out a sigh of relief: [Good. Miss Vance.] [I assume we don't need to hold a wedding ceremony either. And naturally, we will not be fulfilling any marital obligations in the bedroom.] [There's no need to make our marriage public. I don't want too many people knowing about it. It's better for both of us.] I didn't have any objections to that either, so I agreed. After listing off his demands, Carter went silent for a very long time, probably worrying he had forgotten something. After a full fifteen minutes, he finally confirmed everything and sent one last message. [That will be all for now.] [Apologies, Miss Vance, but you know I am a businessman. Businessmen do not trust verbal agreements.] [Therefore, to prevent you from backing out someday in the future, I would like to draft a prenuptial agreement for both of us to sign. Is that acceptable?] [The contract will cover asset division, as well as all the terms we just discussed.] [For example, the marriage lasting only one year, the lack of marital obligations, me covering for you to see your ex, etc.] [Miss Vance, does that work for you?] Of course, I had no objections: [Yes, Mr. Sterling. Draft the contract and send it to me.] Carter was satisfied: [I will have it drafted and sent to you first thing tomorrow morning.] I thought about it and asked: [By the way, Mr. Sterling, should we meet at least once before we get our marriage license?] Carter rejected the idea outright: [There is absolutely no need for that. It's a waste of time, and we have nothing to discuss anyway. We will see each other at City Hall in three days.] That worked perfectly for me. I nodded repeatedly: [Sounds good. See you then.] 5 Carter was so worried I would back out that he drafted the contract with terrifying efficiency. He emailed me the digital copy by 4:00 PM. But what shocked me even more was that at 6:00 AM the next day, he personally delivered a massive stack of the physical contract to my house. While he and my dad were exchanging pleasantries in the living room, my mom dragged me out of bed and shoved me into the bathroom to wash up. With a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, I hid at the corner of the second-floor stairs, observing Carter in the living room. He looked exactly as my friend had described over the phone. Carter sat upright on the leather sofa, his long legs crossed. A perfectly tailored, pitch-black suit accentuated his incredible physique. Even in such an ordinary posture, his obscenely perfect bone structure and handsome face gave off an aura of repressed, untouchable sex appeal. No wonder my dad said Carter was hand-picked—the absolute best of the best, the perfect candidate for this arranged marriage. However, at a glance, I immediately noticed the pink hair tie peeking out from under his cuff. Pink was my official fandom color. Because of that, my eyes naturally gravitated toward pink amidst any cluster of colors. But still, a top-tier CEO with a face like that, wearing a little pink hair tie on his wrist? Kind of amusing, actually. 6 While chatting with Carter, my dad kept shooting subtle glances in my direction. But Carter was like a monk in deep meditation. His eyelashes didn't even flutter. He just watched my dad's performance with a blank expression. He was using his actions to prove to me: he had zero interest in his fiancée, a woman he had never met who had suddenly dropped into his life. My dad gritted his teeth and finally laid his cards on the table: "Carter, why don't you stay for breakfast? Chloe is home, you two can meet and get to know each other." "That won't be necessary." Carter's voice was deep and magnetic, carrying a cold, distant edge. "Mr. Vance, there's no need for us to meet. After all, we'll be forced to spend plenty of time together in the future. It'll be hard not to see each other, won't it?" My dad tried to say something else, but Carter cut him off coldly: "Alright, Mr. Vance. I'll take my leave now." With that, he turned and walked right out the door. The exact moment I finished getting ready and stepped into the living room. Carter stepped out. And casually pulled the front door shut behind him. He didn't look up in my direction once the entire time. He might as well have tattooed "Not Interested" on the back of his head. 7 The second Carter stepped out of my house. I received a text from him. [Miss Vance, I have handed the sealed contract to your father. You may sign it after reviewing it. Once you've signed, I'll send my assistant to pick it up.] I carefully read through the contract. Aside from everything we negotiated last night, there was a clear line at the very end of the document— All profits generated by our marriage alliance would be split 40/60. He would take 40%, and I would get 60%. Furthermore, once our marriage ended, I would receive a massive lump sum payout. Adding it all up, it was no small amount. It was enough to ensure I'd be set for the rest of my life. I counted the zeros. And read through the contract one more time. The resistance I initially felt toward this arranged marriage morphed into the anxiety of holding a massive fortune. I nervously texted him: [By the way, Mr. Sterling, there don't seem to be any clauses in the contract regarding you and the person you love.] [Did you forget?] I was genuinely asking. But Carter's reply was full of defensiveness and impatience. [Miss Vance, there's no need to test me.] [I am well aware that women are at a disadvantage in a marriage. Therefore, for the duration of our marriage, I will not do anything that would make you a laughingstock to the public.] I paused for a moment. Even through the screen. I could perfectly picture Carter right now, frowning at his phone. His harsh mouth muttering, "How dare this woman try to manage my affairs," out of one side. While adjusting his tone to reply to me out of the other. [And I certainly wouldn't reduce her to being the "other woman," not even in name only.] At this point, Carter paused. Probably because bringing up the person he loved naturally softened his tone. [I will wait until our marriage is completely finalized and terminated before I earnestly pursue her, confess to her, and be with her.] [Of course, all of this is contingent on her not finding me repulsive and not having someone else she likes.] Well, what do you know. This domineering CEO was actually quite the hopeless romantic. After Carter finished, he seemed to ponder for a moment before adding. [By the way, send me your social security number.] I was instantly on guard: [What for?] Carter: [The day after we get our marriage license, I'm going out of state for a business trip. The destination happens to be the city where your ex lives. Don't you want to see him?] [I'll buy your ticket while I'm at it. I'll cover for you like the contract says. We'll just tell our families we're going on a honeymoon.] I hesitated. My finger hovered over the screen, unable to press send. When Carter didn't get a reply. He began to coax me with the utmost patience. [Miss Vance, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.] [It might not work out this perfectly next time. You need to think carefully.] [If you miss this chance, who knows when you'll be able to see him again.] I was still hesitating. After all, when we broke up years ago. I had completely blocked that man on every single platform. Carter: [I heard from your father that your breakup wasn't exactly amicable.] [I have a friend who's a relationship guru. He specializes in reconciling couples who had bad breakups.] [I'll bring him along. When the time comes, he'll definitely be able to help you two get back together.] His relentless persuasion started to sway me. I figured I could just treat it as a vacation. In the end, I sent him my ID information. [Well... alright then. Sorry for the trouble, and thank you.] [You're very welcome.] Carter's mood instantly brightened. Even his attitude toward me improved slightly. Yeah, just like he said, he was genuinely terrified I would cling to him.
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