Married By Midnight

Chapter4

THE AGREEMENT

11:10 p.m.

As the final minutes of the evening ticked away, Kingsley could feel the weight of his decision settling around him like a heavy fog. Joke stood at the bar, every inch the millionaire heiress—poised, distant, unreadable. Her dark eyes didn’t blink, her tailored suit made her look untouchable. Invincible. And yet, here she was, stepping into a life just as unfamiliar to her as it was to him.

She didn’t look anxious. Not at all.

Kingsley, on the other hand, couldn’t stop fidgeting. He hadn’t signed anything yet, but the last few minutes had felt like a slow march toward something irreversible. Everything about this felt foreign—her, the deal, the very air around them.

He looked at her with wide, wary eyes. Like a man stepping into a trap.

“So,” he began, his voice sounding steadier than he felt. “Now what? After we sign the documents, what happens next?”

Joke didn’t flinch. She hadn’t wavered once since he agreed to the arrangement.

“Tonight, we consummate the marriage,” she said plainly, her voice cool and clinical. “Tomorrow, we go to the press.”

Kingsley’s brows drew together. “Then?”

“Then we play the part,” she replied, calm as ever. “For one year. We attend the right events, make the right appearances, build the image. After that, we part ways. The merger will go through, and I’ll get what I need.”

Kingsley inhaled slowly, letting the reality of her words sink in. “And if I don’t go through with it?”

Something flickered in her eyes—frustration, maybe. Or something harder to name. Either way, it didn’t soften her tone.

“Then I lose the deal,” she said. “And everything I’ve worked for goes to waste.”

Her voice dipped, the edge softening just slightly. “Kingsley, you’ll be paid no matter what. This isn’t personal. It’s business. Enterprise.”

Of course it was.

That was all it ever was for her.

He wasn’t part of the plan—not really. This wasn’t about feelings, connection, or even respect. Just gain. The stark numbers of what each of them had to offer.

The thought twisted in his chest, but he swallowed it down.

No, he told himself. I said yes. I agreed.

But the way she framed it—cold, inevitable—made it feel less like a choice and more like fate closing in.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “Then let’s do it.”

Joke nodded. The only movement was the slight clench of her jaw. “We meet the lawyer in twenty minutes. He’ll have the documents ready.

11:30 p.m. — Uptown

The lawyer’s office was sleek and sterile—sharp lines, glass and chrome, the kind of place that existed only in movies. Joke had chosen it for its privacy. Discreet. Controlled.

Everything about this had to go perfectly.

Kingsley stood beside her, skimming the pages laid out before him. He wasn’t really reading them. He could barely take in a word. It was all legal. All formal. All very, very real.

The final step.

Joke turned to him, her voice cutting through the thick silence. “Are you alright?”

He looked up. Her expression was unreadable. His throat was dry.

“Yeah,” he said, but even to his own ears, it sounded like a lie.

She shifted slightly in her seat, her gaze flicking toward the door before returning to him. “You know, if you back out now, I’ll have to find another solution. It won’t be easy. And I don’t have much time left.”

He stared at her, the pressure like a vise.

A faint smile touched her lips but didn’t reach her eyes. “Alright. Because, Kingsley, the stakes are higher than you think.”

The lawyer entered—a man in a dark suit with an expression that said he’d seen too many contracts, too many desperate people.

After a short exchange with Joke, he slid the papers toward Kingsley.

“Sign here,” the lawyer instructed, pointing to the bottom line.

Kingsley hesitated.

Pen poised. Heart hammering.

Joke watched him, still and silent.

This was the moment. The final leap.

No going back.

He looked at her one last time, searching for anything—doubt, warmth, warning—but her mask held firm. This was on him now.

He signed.

The lawyer turned the document toward Joke, who picked up the pen without ceremony and added her signature. No smile. No nod. No congratulations.

She simply placed the paper in a folder, rose from her seat, and said, “Let’s go.”

Midnight

When Kingsley stepped out of the lawyer’s office, the weight of the deal hung on him like a heavy cloak. The city outside had slipped into the next day, but nothing about this moment felt like a beginning.

Joke walked beside him, her steps crisp and purposeful. But for just a heartbeat—barely long enough to name—her expression shifted. The mask dropped.

He saw something real.

Not the heiress. Not the CEO. Just a woman—tired, vulnerable, human.

And then it was gone. Replaced by the cool, untouchable woman who had just bought a husband.

The deal was done.

But the question still haunted him: What happens in a year?

And the only answer that came scared him more than anything else.

He didn’t know