The next day, Arianna Stone headed into the office.

Following a three-day paid break, everyone was still lingering in holiday mode, moving with a sluggish, uninspired lethargy. After lunch, the department head, Miranda Green, called an emergency meeting. The agenda was mostly fluff—corporate pep talks and promises of another five-day paid vacation if they met their targets. Essentially, it was just painting a pretty picture of the future.

But, to give credit where it was due, the tactic worked. Especially for a green rookie like Arianna, who spent the rest of the afternoon working with a feverish intensity.

As the clock ticked toward the end of the day, Miranda called her into the office to drop some unexpected news: management had decided to fast-track her probationary period.

After signing the employment contract and stumbling back out, Arianna felt like she was floating. Her feet barely touched the carpet. It was a genuine stroke of luck. Just days ago, she had been spiraling over whether she’d even be kept on; now, she was officially a permanent member of the Myria team, a month ahead of schedule.

She couldn't wait to share the news with Rosemary Stone.

As she walked down the corridor, she crossed paths with Jenna Lawson, another new hire who had joined the same time she did. Jenna caught a glimpse of the contract in Arianna’s hand, froze, and blinked in surprise. "Arianna? Is that... an official offer?"

Arianna, still on the phone with Rosemary and wearing a wide, radiant smile, simply nodded.

Jenna stared at that glowing face for a few seconds, then forced a bright, cheery smile of her own. "That’s amazing! Huge congratulations!"

"Thanks," Arianna beamed back.

As soon as Arianna rounded the corner, Jenna’s expression collapsed. The mask of friendliness dropped instantly, replaced by a cold, sharp bitterness. She muttered under her breath, "It's just a promotion. What exactly is there to be so smug about?"

***

Around six in the evening, Arianna received a text from Maxwell King.

Maxwell: Are you almost off work?

Arianna, currently hunched over her desk finishing a proposal, typed back: I’ve still got a bit to do. Why?

Maxwell: I’m downstairs, by the northwest exit. Just head down when you're done.

Arianna: Oh? You’re already here?

Maxwell: Yes.

Arianna: I’ll need at least thirty minutes, I’m sorry.

Maxwell: No rush. Take your time. I haven't been in this area much, I’ll just walk around for a bit.

Maxwell’s emotional regulation always seemed impenetrable—never hurried, never annoyed, always steady. Arianna bit her lip. "Okay, I'll be as quick as I can."

With someone waiting for her, she naturally kicked her pace into high gear. Half an hour later, she emerged from the northwest side entrance dragging a suitcase—she and Maxwell had agreed she would move into his place tonight.

The side entrance was quiet, traffic thin. She spotted Maxwell’s black Bentley instantly; it was as bold and attention-grabbing as he was. He was scanning the crowd, and the moment he saw her, he was out of the car. He walked over and took the suitcase from her. "Everything packed?"

The suitcase was large, packed with her clothes and toiletries. Arianna didn’t plan to cancel the lease on her old apartment just yet; the contract had a few months left, and she wanted a safety net.

"Yes," she nodded. "Everything's in there."

Maxwell loaded the bag into the trunk, then walked to the passenger side and opened the door for her. "Alright then. Let's go home."

"Okay."

Once she was settled inside, Maxwell leaned in to gently shut the door before walking around to the driver’s side. Arianna leaned back in the seat, biting her lip. His over-the-top chivalry always left her feeling like she was walking on eggshells—she never knew how to act. Should she thank him again? Since they’d reconnected, she’d lost count of how many times she’d said "thank you."

***

Maxwell’s villa sat on the outskirts of the city, tucked away in a quiet, secluded pocket of greenery. Lush bamboo masked the perimeter, and the trees lining the driveway were a deep, vibrant green.

The house was sleek and modern. A massive, curved brown sofa dominated the living room, accented by an intricate, glittering crystal chandelier and floor-to-ceiling windows that made the space feel both grand and airy.

Once they were inside, Maxwell gave her a tour—the living area, the kitchen, the dining room, and the home theater. His voice was warm and smooth. "This is your home now, too. Shall I show you the bedroom upstairs?"

"Yes, please."

Arianna followed him up. The ornate, carved wooden railing felt cool and smooth under her palm. That was when a practical worry surfaced. "If I live out here, my commute to work is going to be brutal. I’ll have to leave at the crack of dawn."

She’d checked the map on the way over; there were no subway stations nearby, and the closest bus stop was miles away. Still, she reminded herself that Maxwell taking her in was already a massive favor. She shouldn't complain—at least she wouldn't have to dodge Cameron Hughes every night.

"But it's fine," she added quickly, trying to sound positive. "I’ll figure it out."

Maxwell, who had been about to say something, stopped and looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Figure it out? Like how?"

Arianna: "..."

She hadn't actually thought of a solution; it was just a polite, reflexive excuse. But Maxwell wasn’t letting it go. He had that look in his eye—the kind that suggested he wouldn't stop until he got a real answer.

Cornered, she offered the most basic plan she could think of. "I'll just get up earlier."

Maxwell leaned against the wall, his posture languid and tall. "The nearest subway station is 3.7 miles away. The closest bus stop is 1.2 miles away, and you'd have to transfer twice to get to your office. So—"

He raised an eyebrow, a faint, dangerous smile playing on his lips.

"So—how early do you plan on waking up to ensure you don't end up late every single day?"

Arianna: "..."

The math left her speechless. She opened her mouth, met his piercing, challenging gaze, and whispered, "I’ll just wake up earlier. It’ll be fine."

"How early?" Maxwell pressed. "Four a.m.? Three? Or do you just plan on not sleeping at all?"

Arianna had no answer. She didn't even know what she was supposed to say.

Maxwell watched her struggle for a moment, let out a silent sigh, and turned to head back downstairs. Arianna stood where she was, staring at his retreating back, a sudden wave of indignation washing over her. He was annoyed. She didn't even know what she’d done wrong. If the subway was far, she’d just wake up earlier. What was the problem?

Just as she was trying to process it, Maxwell returned. He was holding something.

Arianna stared, confused. Why was he holding their marriage certificate?

He opened the red booklet right in front of her, pointing at the text with his finger just like he had in the car. His voice was deadly serious. "Arianna, we are married, aren't we?"

She had no idea where he was going with this. She nodded slowly. "Yes."

"At the registry office, we filled out the forms. We signed our names on the lines for husband and wife," Maxwell continued. "Arianna, we are a married couple. Legally, officially, a married couple."

"You don't need to 'figure things out' on your own. I am your husband. And a husband is supposed to take care of his wife."