After landing, Arianna took the company car to her hotel. She picked up her room key and dragged her suitcase into the room to rest.

Once she swiped her card to power up the room, Arianna sat on the shoe bench by the door and pulled out her phone to message Maxwell.

Arianna: [I’ve arrived!]

Maxwell seemed to be glued to his phone; he replied in a heartbeat: [Did you make it to the hotel?]

[Yeah, just got here.]

Arianna excitedly shared her observations: [Oh, by the way, I actually ran into Cole earlier!]

[Mm. He’s in Riverside on a business trip, too.]

Arianna reached out to set the thermostat to a comfortable temperature, continuing to type: [He was sitting in the row behind me! What a coincidence, right?]

At that moment, Maxwell felt a pang of regret.

If he’d known, he should have scheduled Cole’s itinerary to be as far away as possible—preferably on the other side of the planet, separated by an entire ocean.

Arianna: [Cole was so helpful. He helped me with my luggage, and when I left, he helped me carry it all the way out of the arrivals hall before he left.]

Maxwell had a crucial meeting that morning and couldn't be absent. If not for that, the person carrying her luggage should have been him. How did Cole end up with the honors?

He was the one who sent him there, gave the orders, and reminded him multiple times.

Maxwell felt a bit bitter, his tone forced: [Cole is a decent assistant. But what you’re describing has nothing to do with his character.]

Arianna was confused: [What do you mean?]

[That’s just basic assistant work.]

Arianna countered: [But I’m not his boss.]

Maxwell’s lips curled into a smirk, amused by her innocence: [You’re the lady of the King family. For all intents and purposes, you are Cole’s boss.]

Arianna: "..."

A very convenient "for all intents and purposes" indeed.

They continued chatting about the trip and the company’s hospitality, and Arianna sent him a few photos of the hotel. Maxwell kept responding, but his mind was elsewhere. He was clearly distracted.

After holding it in for a while, he couldn't help but ask: [How long have you known Cole?]

[Not long. We’ve barely seen each other. Why?]

Maxwell: [Then how did you two become friends? And apparently, "good friends" at that?]

Through the screen, Arianna could practically feel his resentment, seasoned with a dash of sarcasm. She suddenly realized Cole must have relayed their earlier conversation to him. She couldn't help but laugh.

Without even realizing it, her tone softened: [I was surrounded by coworkers. What was I supposed to say?]

Maxwell: [Oh.]

Arianna’s lips lifted, and she tried, albeit clumsily, to soothe him: [If I see him again, I’ll tell the truth—that he’s your assistant. Does that work for you?]

[And if they ask who I am?]

Arianna hesitated for a long time, typing a line, deleting it, and typing it again.

Finally, after Maxwell sent a question mark, Arianna closed her eyes, steeled herself, and hit send: [I’ll just say... you’re my husband. Is that okay?]

The moment the message went through, a deathly silence fell on both sides. The text sat there like a stone dropped into the deep sea, receiving no response for an age.

Arianna’s face turned bright red. She realized what she had just sent and wanted to recall the message, but it was too late.

She dropped her phone and hurried toward the bathroom. As the water poured out, she splashed handfuls of cold water onto her face, trying to cool her burning skin.

Meanwhile, on the other end, Maxwell stared at the text in disbelief, reading the words "my husband" over and over again.

Outside, the afternoon sunlight poured onto the floor, casting shifting, geometric shadows. Maxwell stood like a statue, rooted to the spot, terrified to move.

After a long while, he hesitantly lifted his feet and shuffled toward the window. Only when the sunlight hit him, and he could feel the warmth on his skin and neck, did he finally believe this wasn't a dream or a hallucination.

His phone buzzed. Maxwell looked down to see a new message.

Arianna: [What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?]

The corners of Maxwell's lips curled up.

[No.]

[I am Arianna’s husband, aren't I?]

***

Cole Parker walked in with a tablet in hand, only to find Maxwell grinning at his phone like a man who’d just won the lottery.

"Sir, these are the sales figures for the second division for Q3, along with the projections for the next quarter."

Maxwell took the tablet, his expression settling into a calm, professional mask. Cole reported the work diligently, "Offline sales saw a year-on-year increase of 32.17%, while online sales..."

"Cole," Maxwell interrupted gently.

"Yes, sir?"

"Who’s on the guest list for Julian Adams' party tonight?"

Cole swiped through his tablet and rattled off a list of names. He added, "Julian sent you an invitation a few days ago."

Hearing the name he was looking for, Maxwell smirked, his eyes unreadable. "I see. I’ll be going."

Half an hour later, Maxwell received a call from Spencer Miller.

"No way. You’re actually going to Julian’s party tonight?"

Maxwell lounged on the sofa, his posture effortlessly elegant. "You’re well-informed, aren't you?"

"You have to ask Julian that," Spencer said. "He’s been shouting from the rooftops that you’re coming. It’d be harder not to know."

Aside from strictly professional functions, Maxwell rarely attended private social gatherings. He’d turned down invite after invite. As a family business that had spanned over a century, the Kings had built a foundation so solid—especially under his parents' generation—that they stood at the absolute peak. They had no need to curry favor, and their networking was merely a routine maintenance of existing partnerships.

So, when word spread that Maxwell King was attending, Julian acted like a man on fire, spreading the news to everyone within half an hour.

"Do you even know who’s going to be there?" Spencer warned. "Cameron Hughes and his entire entourage."

"Mm. I know."

"You know?" Spencer sounded baffled. "And you’re still going? You told me two days ago you didn’t want to look at people like that, that you’d never attend another party he was at. What changed?"

"I have to go tonight," Maxwell said nonchalantly. His tone carried a hidden weight.

A moment later, Spencer had an epiphany. "Wait. Are you planning to go public with the marriage?"

Maxwell gave a faint hum of confirmation.

"Going public tonight?" Spencer hesitated. "Isn't that a bit early? Are you sure?"

Maxwell stood by the window, lazily leaning against the sill, looking as though he were walking on clouds. A smile tugged at his lips. "My wife is already willing to acknowledge me in public. Why should I keep hiding it?"

"There’s no point."

Spencer: "..."

...What a hopeless romantic. Get lost.