Marry me."
Sophia Lin glanced up from her desk, fingers pausing over the neatly stacked documents in front of her. She had heard many absurd things while working at the civil affairs office, but this—this had to take the crown.
Her gaze traveled upward, meeting the eyes of the most arrogant-looking man she had ever seen.
Tall. Impeccably dressed. Broad-shouldered with the effortless grace of someone accustomed to having the world bend to his will. His midnight-black suit was tailored to perfection, not a single wrinkle in sight, as though chaos itself wouldn't dare touch him. His hair, slick yet slightly tousled, framed sharp cheekbones and a jawline carved by the gods themselves. But it was his eyes—cold, fathomless pools of obsidian—that unsettled her.
Leon Cheng was staring at her like she was nothing more than a convenient solution to a minor inconvenience.
Sophia blinked. "…Sir, this is a civil affairs office, not a matchmaking service. Her voice was smooth, but internally, she was seething. Who did this man think he was? Strolling up to her desk like he owned the place and demanding marriage as if it were as simple as ordering coffee?
Leon Cheng checked his watch, his expression unreadable, though his tone carried the crisp impatience of someone unaccustomed to delays.
"My fiancée is late. You're here. Let's not waste time."
A short laugh escaped Sophia's lips—sharp, incredulous. "Wow. What a romantic proposal. You must have women falling at your feet."
His lips curved into something that could barely pass as a smirk. "I do. But today, I need a wife, not a fan."
Sophia opened her mouth to shut him down—because who in their right mind would accept a random, emotionless marriage proposal from a man who clearly had the emotional range of a brick wall?
But then—reality crashed down.
Her fingers curled slightly against the desk. No job. No family. No home of her own. A mountain of debts that weren't even hers to begin with, left behind by the very people who should have loved her the most.
She had spent months clawing her way out of the abyss, barely surviving each day, depending on the kindness of Lu Xinyi, a friend from college, just to have a roof over her head. Xinyi wasn't well-off herself; they struggled just to afford two meals a day.
This man, Leon Cheng—he was a walking bank account. A ticket out of her misery.
Her eyes flickered to the marriage certificate lying between them. One signature, one seal, and she would become Mrs. Cheng.
Was this insane? Yes.
Was it an opportunity she could afford to pass up? Absolutely not.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm in her chest. This didn't have to mean anything. She would sign, play the part for however long he needed, get compensated, and then go on her way.
With a final glance at Leon—who remained as expressionless as ever, as if this wasn't the single most absurd moment in human history—Sophia picked up the pen.
And then, Stamp.
And just like that, her fate was sealed.
Sophia sat stiffly in the backseat of a sleek, black Rolls-Royce, her hands clenched in her lap as she watched the city blur past in streaks of gold and silver. The streets were alive, filled with laughter, chatter, and the distant hum of car engines. Yet inside the car, there was only silence—thick, suffocating silence.
It had been hours, and yet, she was still struggling to process what she had just done.
She was married.
To this man.
The man who barely spoke more than ten sentences to her yet carried himself like he owned the world. And now, technically, he owned her too.
Her fingers curled tighter around the fabric of her dress. She hadn't expected this. She thought she'd sign the papers, maybe shake hands, and walk away with a hefty sum in her pocket. But the moment the ink had dried, Leon had turned to her with a single, chilling order.
"Get up. We're leaving."
She hadn't even had the chance to call Xinyi and tell her what happened.
"Xinyi is going to be so mad," she thought, biting her lip. "She's going to kill me."
But that wasn't her biggest concern.
Her gaze flickered toward the man beside her.
Leon sat with an air of supreme indifference, his legs crossed, his fingers tapping idly against the screen of his phone. Even in the dim light of the car, he exuded an aura of absolute authority—untouchable, unreadable.
Her stomach churned.
Was she really going to live with this man?
Sleep in the same house or worse, the same bed as him?
No. Absolutely not.
Sophia opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say a word, Leon ended his call and turned to her. His voice was calm, smooth, but firm.
"Starting today, you'll live in my house. You don't need to concern yourself with anything—just stay out of trouble, and we won't have any issues."
Sophia narrowed her eyes, irritation sparking in her chest. "Oh? And here I thought marriage was supposed to be an equal partnership."
Leon arched a brow. "It is. I make the decisions, and you follow them."
Her jaw nearly dropped. This man—this arrogant, self-important, walking ego.
"You do realize we just met, right?" she said scornfully.
He leaned back against the leather seat, completely unbothered. "You'll get used to it."
Sophia clenched her fists. This marriage was going to be a wreck.
The car finally slowed, pulling through an enormous wrought-iron gate.
Sophia's breath hitched.
Before her stood a fortress.
The mansion was massive, sprawling over acres of pristine land, with sleek black marble pillars, floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and warm golden lights illuminating its edges. A driveway so wide it could fit ten cars stretched toward the entrance, lined with carefully manicured hedges and towering trees.
Sophia swallowed. This was his home?
Was he a prince? A mafia boss?
Who exactly was this man she had just married.
She turned to him, gripping the hem of her dress. "This arrangement—" she started, only to be cut off.
"We're here."
The car door clicked open. Leon stepped out first, completely unfazed, before turning back to her. "Are you coming, or do you need an invitation?"
Her jaw clenched. This man.
With a deep breath, she stepped out.
A uniformed butler immediately approached. "Welcome home, Young Master, Young Madam."
Sophia stiffened. Young Madam?
Leon didn't even blink. "Prepare a guest room for her," he instructed coolly before turning to her. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to sleep in my room?"
She gawked at him. "Excuse me?!"
He smirked. "Relax. I have no interest in touching you."
Her fists clenched. Arrogant bastard.
"I wouldn't let you even if you tried," she shot back, chin lifting in defiance.
Something flickered in his eyes—amusement? But before she could be sure, he turned away.
"Get some rest. We'll discuss the details tomorrow."
And just like that, he walked off, leaving Sophia standing there—furious, frustrated, and wondering…
What the hell had she just signed up for?