Mia's POV
The morning light filtered through the windows as I stood in front of the civil bureau, my heart pounding in my chest. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Yet here I was—about to sign a contract that would bind me to Ryan Saint in a marriage of convenience.
He stood beside me, unreadable as always, and though the entire situation felt surreal, I forced my hand to stop trembling as I signed the final page.
The ceremony was swift and businesslike. No kisses. No vows. Just names on paper and silence between us.
Once it was done, Ryan looked at me with that same indifferent calm. "Let's go. Jackson's waiting. I'll show you the penthouse."
I followed him, emotions tangled somewhere between disbelief and quiet resolve. I had made my choice—strange as it seemed—and I would carry it with dignity.
---
Ryan's POV
Mia followed quietly, her gaze straight ahead, her back held firm. I could tell she wasn't the type to break easily—and I respected that. But respect didn't mean attachment.
As we stepped into the elevator, I reminded her, "No one must know about this marriage. It's a private arrangement. Temporary. Understand?"
She didn't even blink. "Understood."
Good. There would be no distractions. This arrangement was for convenience—nothing more.
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Mia's POV
The penthouse was just as extravagant as I imagined—marble floors, glass walls, and a breathtaking skyline view of the city. But I didn't feel intimidated. If anything, the pristine order only made me want to clean something.
Ryan turned to me again before heading out. "Eric will be staying here with you for the next few days. Lia and Reo left for a business trip."
I blinked. "Eric?"
"Yes. You'll handle his school, meals, and bedtime." His tone was clipped, but I didn't mind. I already loved Eric—and caring for him felt far less daunting than trying to read his uncle's icy expressions.
"I can manage," I said simply.
---
Later That Day
Eric arrived mid-afternoon, beaming when he saw me.
"Auntie Mia!" he shouted, throwing his arms around my waist.
I grinned and ruffled his hair. "Hey there, buddy. Ready to have some fun?"
We spent the rest of the day setting up his room, unpacking his things, and baking cookies together. Cooking was second nature to me—my guardian taught me everything. I lost my parents young, and the woman who raised me believed a good meal and a well-kept home were essentials in life. I didn't just learn to cook—I learned to season, to blend, to make dishes that made people smile.
Dinner that night was spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread and fresh salad. I cleaned the kitchen spotless afterward, folded the laundry, and made sure Eric's school bag was packed before bed.
"You're like a superhero," Eric said in awe as I tucked him in.
I smiled, brushing his hair back gently. "Just someone who learned how to care the old-fashioned way."
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Ryan's POV
I returned that evening, surprised by the aroma of something home-cooked. The penthouse never smelled like food—only cologne and sterile air.
Stepping inside, I saw Eric bouncing toward me, smiling wide. "Uncle Ryan! Mia made dinner and cookies!"
Cookies?
Mia stepped out of the kitchen wearing a soft blue apron, her hair tied up, a flour smudge on her cheek.
"I hope you're hungry," she said coolly. "Dinner's on the table."
It felt… domestic. Too domestic. But I couldn't lie—the smell was incredible.
We ate quietly, and I watched her manage everything with natural ease. Eric already adored her.
She wasn't playing house—she was made for it.
But this wasn't love.
Just business.
Right?
---
Mia's POV
After dinner, I tucked Eric in, read him a bedtime story, and made sure he brushed his teeth. Once he was asleep, I stepped back into the kitchen and wiped down the counters.
Ryan stood by the window, glass of wine in hand, watching the city.
"You didn't have to do all that," he said without looking at me.
I shrugged. "It's what I do."
"You cook?"
"And clean, and fix things if I need to. My guardian made sure I could survive anywhere."
His gaze lingered a moment too long before he turned away. "Interesting."
I didn't respond.
Because I wasn't here to impress him.
I was just surviving—like I always had.