The Rules We Make
1298 Words
The next morning, I returned to Cross Enterprises.
For three years, this building had been the center of my life. I had walked through these doors countless times as Damon Cross’s assistant, carrying his schedule, preparing his meetings, and solving problems before they ever reached him.
But today was different.
I was no longer here to manage his life. I was here because he wanted me to become part of it.
The receptionist looked surprised when she saw me.
“Ms. Bennett?”
I gave her a polite nod.
“Mr. Cross is expecting me.”
Of course he was.
Damon Cross was never unprepared.
A few minutes later, I stepped into his office. Everything looked exactly the same—the same desk, the same view of Obsidian City, and the same controlled atmosphere that had always surrounded him.
The difference was me.
Yesterday, I had sat across from him as his assistant. Today, I was sitting here because he had asked me to become his wife.
I placed the contract on his desk.
“I read it.”
Damon looked at me.
“And?”
“I have questions.”
“Ask.”
I studied his expression.
“Why now?”
His answer came without hesitation.
“Because the situation requires it.”
I frowned.
“That sounds like an explanation, but it isn’t a reason.”
For a moment, he remained silent. Then he opened another file and placed it in front of me.
“You wanted to know why.”
I looked down.
The documents contained information about Cross Enterprises—the upcoming shareholder meeting, board concerns, and the pressure surrounding his position as CEO.
Then I saw the date.
Six weeks.
“The shareholder meeting.”
“Yes.”
“And you need this marriage before then.”
“Yes.”
I leaned back slowly.
“So this was never about wanting a wife.”
“No.”
“It’s about your position.”
Damon met my eyes.
“My position affects the company.”
I understood.
The board did not care about feelings. They cared about stability, appearances, and confidence.
“They think your personal life affects your leadership.”
“They believe stability creates trust.”
I almost laughed.
“Damon Cross needs to prove he is stable?”
His expression did not change.
“People rarely judge based only on results.”
Annoyingly, he was right.
I looked back at the contract.
This was not a proposal.
It was a solution.
A carefully calculated agreement designed to solve a problem.
“And after one year?”
“The contract ends.”
“No complications?”
“No.”
“Everything returns to normal?”
“Yes.”
The arrangement was simple, clear, and controlled. Exactly like Damon.
I looked at him again.
“You make this sound easy.”
“It isn’t.”
The answer surprised me.
Damon rarely admitted anything was difficult.
“It is necessary.”
For a brief moment, I saw something beneath his usual calm. It was not weakness or hesitation, just exhaustion.
Then it disappeared.
I looked down at the contract again.
“If I agree, there are rules.”
Damon nodded.
“State them.”
“I remain myself.”
His expression stayed calm.
“I won’t become someone who exists only because she is Mrs. Cross. I have my own family, my own friends, and my own future.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to give those up.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
His answer was immediate.
“This agreement is meant to solve a problem, not replace your identity.”
I studied him carefully.
At least we understood that much.
I turned to the next page.
“The protection clause stays.”
“Yes.”
“Privacy, reputation, and personal safety?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
That was more than I expected.
“The living arrangement.”
“Separate bedrooms.”
“And private spaces.”
“Yes.”
I continued reading.
“The confidentiality agreement needs one exception.”
Damon waited.
“Chloe Carter.”
“My best friend.”
“She will notice if my entire life changes overnight.”
Without hesitation, Damon picked up his pen.
“Chloe Carter is excluded.”
I looked at him.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t need more information?”
“No.”
“Why?”
His answer was simple.
“Because she matters to you.”
For some reason, that response stayed with me.
I looked away and continued reading.
---
Then I reached the special clause.
My expression changed when I read the sentence.
“The wife shall not develop romantic feelings toward the husband.”
I looked up.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
I almost laughed.
“Do you really think a clause can control emotions?”
“No.”
His answer came too quickly.
“Then why include it?”
“Because emotions create complications.”
Of course.
Even feelings were something Damon Cross wanted to manage.
I continued reading.
The wedding ring must be worn publicly.
Appearances must be maintained.
Events, dinners, and public interactions would be arranged when necessary.
I looked at him.
“Dates?”
“Yes.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“This is still business.”
“Exactly.”
I ignored the answer and continued to the final section.
“Physical contact in public when necessary.”
I closed the folder.
“This contract really does cover everything.”
“That is the purpose.”
I looked at him.
“One more condition.”
He waited.
“When this contract ends, we separate completely.”
A slight change appeared in his expression.
“Explain.”
“I want my own life back.”
The silence between us lasted for a moment.
Then Damon nodded.
“Agreed.”
I did not expect it to be that easy.
Most people wanted something from Damon Cross: his power, his money, or his influence.
I wanted none of those.
I only wanted to protect the life I had left.
Damon looked at the contract.
“Are you ready?”
I looked down at the pages between us.
A marriage agreement.
One year.
A life I never imagined choosing.
Then I picked up the pen.
“Yes.”
We signed at the same time.
The moment my name appeared beside his, everything became real.
I was no longer considering Damon Cross’s offer.
I had accepted it.
---
Outside the building, the cold air touched my face.
The driver was already waiting beside the car.
As we approached, Damon’s hand suddenly rested on my waist.
I turned toward him.
“What are you doing?”
His expression remained unreadable.
“Don’t move.”
Before I could respond, he pulled me closer and kissed me.
For a second, I forgot everything: the contract, the rules, and the boundaries.
Then I heard a camera shutter.
A faint flash disappeared across the street, and I froze.
Damon released me almost immediately, and I pushed him away.
“What was that?”
His eyes moved briefly toward the street before returning to me.
“We’re in public.”
I looked around.
“There is no one here.”
His expression remained calm.
“Not anymore.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
But Damon did not answer. He simply opened the car door, leaving me standing there for a moment as I tried to understand the man beside me.
Damon Cross had rules for everything, except apparently the moments when he decided to create new ones.
I got into the car.
Tomorrow, the world would know that Damon Cross was getting married, and the woman beside him was me.
- Writer
