---
Morning light spilled through the windows like soft gold, painting the sheets and floorboards with a quiet kind of peace. But inside Jasmine, peace felt far away.
Lucien still slept beside her, one arm draped across her waist, his breath steady and deep. He looked softer in sleep—less like the ruthless CEO everyone feared and more like a man trying to outrun his past.
She watched him for a moment, memorizing the way his lashes rested against his cheeks, the way his chest rose and fell.
How did this happen?
How did something so fake start feeling so real?
Carefully, she slid out from beneath the sheets and reached for her robe.
There was something she needed to face.
---
The garden behind the Leclair estate stretched wide and wild, like a living maze. Jasmine wandered down the gravel path, hands tucked into her sleeves, the morning air sharp against her skin.
She wasn't alone for long.
Madeline emerged from a side path, dressed in white, her expression unreadable.
"Out for a stroll?" she asked casually.
Jasmine didn't slow her pace. "I needed air."
Madeline walked beside her without invitation. "It's funny. You walk like someone who owns the place."
"I walk like someone who's not afraid."
Madeline smiled, cold and slow. "You should be."
Jasmine stopped. "Why? Because you used to have him? Because you think I don't belong here?"
"No," Madeline said, voice calm. "Because you're starting to believe the lie."
Jasmine met her eyes. "It's not a lie anymore."
"You think love erases the truth?" Madeline scoffed. "You and I both know why you married him."
"I married him because I had to," Jasmine said firmly. "But I stayed because I wanted to."
Madeline studied her. "You sound like someone who's trying to convince herself."
Jasmine stepped forward. "And you sound like someone who regrets letting him go."
For a moment, something flickered in Madeline's eyes.
Then she smiled again, turned, and walked away.
---
Back inside, Lucien stood in front of the fireplace, shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, phone to his ear.
He looked up when Jasmine entered.
"I'll call you back," he said into the phone before hanging up.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
He nodded, but his expression was tight. "We have a problem."
"What kind?"
"A leak. Someone's been feeding the press rumors."
Jasmine's stomach sank. "About us?"
"About the business. About our marriage. Someone's trying to fracture both."
She stepped closer. "Do you think it's her?"
Lucien didn't answer right away.
"I don't know. But whoever it is… they know how to hurt us."
Jasmine reached for his hand. "Then we don't let them."
He squeezed back. "No matter what happens, we stay honest. With each other."
"Deal."
---
That evening, they returned to the city.
The car ride was quiet—not awkward, just… full. The kind of silence that holds thoughts too heavy for words.
Jasmine stared at the skyline as it came into view. "Do you think people can really change?"
Lucien turned to her. "I didn't used to."
"And now?"
He reached over, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Now I'm trying to."
---
Back at the penthouse, a storm was waiting.
Literally and figuratively.
Rain lashed the windows as thunder rolled in from the east, and the moment they stepped into the foyer, Lucien's assistant met them with a pale face and an open laptop.
"You need to see this."
She turned the screen toward them.
A headline blinked in bold black letters:
"Lucien Drax Marries Unknown Artist in Sudden Private Ceremony — Business or Love?"
Below it, photos.
Lucien. Jasmine. Holding hands. Smiling. Kissing.
Private moments… that were never supposed to be public.
Jasmine covered her mouth. "How did they—?"
Lucien stared, eyes dark. "Someone's watching us."
He turned to his assistant. "Trace the leak. Every call. Every email. I want to know who's behind this."
The assistant nodded and vanished.
Jasmine looked at him. "This changes things."
Lucien shook his head. "No. It just shows how afraid they are."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of what we're building."
---
They spent the night in the study, side by side, phones buzzing, emails flying, both of them locked in damage control.
But Jasmine could feel it—underneath the urgency, something deeper was breaking loose.
Not fear.
Not panic.
But purpose.
For the first time, they weren't navigating chaos as strangers in a contract.
They were partners.
---
At 2:00 a.m., Lucien finally leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "We've managed the press. Tomorrow's damage control with investors."
Jasmine stood and stretched. "I'll be there."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to."
He looked at her. Really looked.
Then stood and walked over, hands sliding to her waist.
"You're not just the woman I married," he whispered. "You're the woman I never thought I'd be lucky enough to need."
Jasmine's eyes burned. "Then don't push me away when things get worse."
He kissed her forehead. "I won't."
---
The next morning, Jasmine stood before a room full of stone-faced investors in heels and black silk.
Lucien introduced her, then stepped aside.
She took a breath.
And spoke.
"We didn't get married for business," she said plainly. "But we're building something that will outlast it."
She looked at each face. Calm. Steady.
"Lucien doesn't need me to be his shield. And I don't need him to be my savior. We chose each other. And what we create together won't be shaken by whispers."
For a second, silence.
Then quiet nods. Murmurs of agreement.
Respect.
Lucien watched her with something rare in his eyes.
Pride.
---
That night, when the building was quiet again and the storm had passed, Jasmine stood at the window and whispered to herself:
"This… is real now."
Lucien stepped behind her, arms around her waist.
"No more pretending," he said.
"No more lies."
And in that moment, despite the shadows still waiting outside their walls, Jasmine knew:
They were no longer playing roles in someone else's script.
They were writing their own.
Together.
---