Prologue

Driven by family pressure, Clara and Julian obtained their marriage license only the second day after meeting.

The two of them made a pact: no love involved.

Julian, the head of the prestigious Vane family and CEO of the Mid-Heights Group, was a man of integrity and restraint. He was disciplined, composed, and ruthlessly decisive in the business world.

Yet, after marriage, he spoiled her to no end. He sang her to sleep when she was ill, responded with doting indulgence when she acted spoiled, and stood firmly behind her the moment she encountered trouble.

Only in bed was he dominant beyond refusal, lingering with her night after night in obsessive passion.

"Sweetheart, why don't you try calling me 'husband'?"

Initially, Julian only intended for them to treat each other with mutual respect, but he found himself spiraling out of control, falling deeper each day.

He wanted to possess her body, to possess her heart; he wanted her eyes and her soul to belong to him and him alone.

Until he discovered her calling another man’s name in her dreams, and found her sketchbooks filled with that same man...

The day he caught her being held in that man’s arms, Julian lost all control.

"What I just saw... is my absolute limit."

"You want a divorce? Only over my dead body!"

"Sweetheart, forget him."

"Love me, okay?"

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Chapter 1: The Forced Blind Date

In September, Northampton remained sweltering. By evening, the wind was scalding, and people were restless.

Clara raised her voice in protest, "I'm not going!"

She was only twenty and hadn't even graduated from university. How had she already reached the point of needing a blind date for marriage?

Arthur spoke in a gentle, persuasive tone, "Clary, Julian is an excellent candidate for marriage. He comes from a distinguished family, possesses noble character, and at such a young age, he already leads—"

Clara simply covered her ears and turned her face away, waiting for him to give in. To her surprise, he remained silent.

Glancing back out of the corner of her eye, she met her grandfather’s gaze, which was complex and difficult to read.

Arthur pulled her hands down, gripping them firmly in his palms. "Clary, Grandpa has never asked you for anything. Just promise me this one thing. Go to the blind date and get married as soon as possible, alright?"

"Grandpa," Clara looked at him, tears welling in her eyes instantly, "Are you throwing me away too?"

Arthur let out a heavy sigh.

Clara suddenly stood up, shook off his hand, and ran out.

"Clary!" Silas instinctively moved to chase after her, but Arthur called him back.

"Sir, Clary is crying! Should I go comfort her?"

Arthur shook his head. "Let her have a good cry. Let her vent the fire in her heart."

"Sir..." Silas hesitated several times before finally speaking, "Could we slow down on this blind date matter? Clary is still young, after all."

"She is young, but I don't have much time left." Before he could finish his sentence, Arthur began to cough violently.

Silas hurriedly rubbed his back and handed him a napkin.

Arthur took it to wipe the corner of his mouth. On the snow-white napkin, a deep smear of red suddenly blossomed.

Silas gasped in shock, "I’ll go call Dr. Wang!"

"Come back." Arthur folded the napkin as if nothing had happened. "I know my own body. I won’t drop dead just yet. Wait until Clary leaves tomorrow before having Dr. Wang come over."

Silas suppressed his tears and complied. Once Arthur’s breathing leveled out, he advised cautiously, "Keeping your illness from Clary isn't good in the long run. She’ll be heartbroken when she finds out."

"That’s still better than letting her live in constant fear." Arthur closed his eyes. "Clary’s marriage must be settled as quickly as possible."

He had to pave the way for his granddaughter’s future before he took his last breath. Otherwise, once he was gone, she would be torn to shreds by the predators who would pounce at the first scent of profit.

If that happened, how could he face his eldest son and daughter-in-law in the afterlife?

Silas had been by his side for decades and understood the unspeakable hardships he faced. Still, a marriage required mutual consent.

After a moment of silence, a thought struck Silas. "Sir, what about an alliance with the Miller family? They are no less prestigious than the Vanes. Clary has played with the second Miller son since they were children; they have a great bond."

Arthur immediately rejected the idea. "He’s a good lad, but his personality is too flighty, and he lacks the capability. He couldn't protect Clary. His older brother would have been suitable, but he’s far away in America, and I heard he already has a partner. It’s a pity."

To pave the best path for his granddaughter, he had scouted every eligible bachelor of matching status in Northampton. After layers of screening, only Julian perfectly met his requirements.

Arthur spoke with finality, "My mind is made up. You don't need to persuade me further. Contact the Vane family and arrange a time for Clary and Julian to meet as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir."

Outside the door, Clara, who had doubled back, huddled in a corner, covering her mouth as she wept silently.

Waves of heat from the outside surged toward her, yet her entire body felt frigid, as if she had fallen into an ice cellar.

Eight years ago, a car accident had taken her parents. Now, even Grandpa was...

A sudden crack of thunder exploded across the horizon.

Inside the room came Arthur’s anxious voice, "Silas, send someone to find Clary immediately. She can't stand the sound of thunder."

"On it!"

When Silas found her, she was kneeling in the ancestral hall, eyes closed in prayer.

Silas knelt beside her. "Clary."

Clara opened her eyes, her voice raspy. "What illness does Grandpa have?"

Silas was struck with horror. "You... you heard?"

"Yes. Silas, don't hide it from me anymore."

"It's lung cancer." Silas lowered his head gloomily. "Stage III. He is older and his constitution is weak. The doctors say the success rate for surgery isn't high..."

The color drained from Clara’s face instantly.

"Clary, don't be afraid. The doctors are trying to shrink the tumor while conditioning his body. Once he’s fit for surgery, they will try to remove it," Silas comforted her softly.

Clara took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her tone was almost calm. "Don't tell Grandpa that I know. Contact the Vane family for me. We’ll meet tomorrow morning."

The next morning, Clara got out of bed, applied a delicate layer of makeup, put on a flawless smile, and went downstairs.

Arthur asked with a smile, "Is my princess not angry anymore?"

Clara lifted her chin and gave a light snort. "Silas said Julian is quite good-looking, so I'll go take a look, however reluctantly."

Arthur felt immensely relieved. "Good, good!"

A servant brought breakfast. Clara took only a couple of bites before putting down her fork. "I'm heading out. Let's get one thing straight—if he doesn't like me, you aren't allowed to be angry!"

Arthur immediately replied, "That’s impossible. Unless he’s blind."

Clara flashed a small smile and walked out.

Arthur watched her back as she left the dining room, then suddenly called out to her, "Clary, no matter what happens in the future, remember that Grandpa is always here."

Clara stopped in her tracks, biting her lip hard to force back the tears.

She didn't dare speak, much less look back. She simply reached out and made an "OK" gesture.

It was a cloudy day, with heavy layers of gray shrouding the city. A dark cloud also weighed heavily on Clara’s heart, making it ache with a leaden pressure.

When the car reached the destination, a waiter stepped forward to open the door. She thanked him, stepped out, and was led into the hall.

The tea room was filled with a curling fragrance and the soft sound of a lute. The waiter knocked on the door. "Mr. Julian, Ms. Clara has arrived."

Clara suppressed the trepidation in her heart and looked up. The tall, straight silhouette of a man’s back entered her vision.

He wore a silver-white shirt with broad, level shoulders. The hem was tucked neatly into black trousers, accentuating a narrow waist and long legs. His sleeves were rolled up twice, revealing the firm lines of his forearms. On his pale wrist, a platinum watch emitted a restrained metallic glow.

The man turned at the sound. Beneath his handsome brow, his eyes were pitch-black and deep, his gaze as calm and stagnant as an abyss, without a single ripple.

Clara’s first impression of him was "cold"—a chill akin to fresh winter snow. Even on this scorching day, the aura of cool detachment surrounding him didn't diminish in the slightest.

"Ms. Clara," he spoke in a cool tone. "Hello."

Clara offered a standard, polite smile. "Mr. Julian, hello."

Julian walked over slowly and pulled out a chair for her. "Please, have a seat."

Clara thanked him softly, gathered her skirt, and sat down.

The waiter finished brewing the tea and left silently.

The moment the door closed, Clara’s heart skipped a beat for no reason.

She took a couple of sips of tea and was about to start some small talk when the man across from her spoke first, his voice deep and detached. "Ms. Clara, please forgive my bluntness, but there is one point I find necessary to clarify beforehand."

"I require a stable, rational marriage without the involvement of love. I can give my wife everything within my power—respect, loyalty, resources—everything except love."

Such a troublesome and meaningless thing was not within the considerations of his life.

"If your expectation for marriage is love, then I'm afraid we are not a good match."

Clara was stunned for a moment. Once she processed his words, she was overjoyed: No love? That’s absolutely perfect!