The Prince and I’s Contract Marriage

The morning air carried the soft scent of salt and sunlight, drifting through the open windows of the seaside house as Angelique Winter moved quietly from one room to another, her bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floors polished smooth by years of living, laughter, and memories that refused to fade. The house was not extravagant, yet it stood with a quiet dignity against the shoreline, its white walls kissed by the sun and its wide windows forever open to the endless blue horizon. “Still up this early?” a voice called lightly. Angelique turned, smiling as she saw her cousin Marianne leaning against the doorway. “You say that every morning,” she replied, adjusting the vase of fresh flowers she had just placed on the table. “And every morning, I remind you that I like the quiet before the world starts making noise.” Marianne stepped inside, glancing around with a soft hum. “You and this house,” she said. “Sometimes I think you love it more than people.” Angelique paused, her fingers lingering on the edge of the table as her gaze drifted toward the sea. “It’s not just a house,” she said gently. “It’s everything they left me.” Marianne nodded quickly, brushing past the moment. “Right, of course. Anyway, we should go over those documents today.” Angelique sighed but nodded. “If it helps keep the house secure, then let’s do it.” By afternoon, Angelique sat at the table, pen in hand, skimming through pages filled with complicated legal language that blurred together the longer she looked at them. “Do I really have to read all of this?” she asked, glancing up. Marianne smiled reassuringly. “It’s standard paperwork. Honestly, it’s just to protect your property—make everything official.” Angelique hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Alright,” she said softly. “I trust you.” She signed. =============================== Two days later, she stood at the airport, sunlight warming her skin as a soft breeze played with her hair. “You deserve this break,” Marianne insisted. “You’ve been stuck in that house for too long.” Angelique laughed lightly. “It’s not being stuck if it’s where I want to be.” “Then think of this as… expanding your world a little,” Marianne replied. “You’ll come back refreshed.” Angelique smiled, finally giving in. “Alright. Just a few days.” “Take your time,” Marianne said. ============================ The moment Angelique stepped off the plane, something shifted. The air was different—lighter, warmer, filled with unfamiliar scents and the distant hum of a place that was alive in a way her quiet seaside home was not. She paused for a moment, taking it all in, her shoulders relaxing as though she had unknowingly been carrying weight she was only now setting down. For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to feel… free. The resort overlooked a stretch of coastline far more vibrant than the one she knew. The ocean here sparkled under the sun, brighter, almost playful, as though inviting her to step closer and let go of everything she had left behind. “You’re going to love it here,” the receptionist said warmly as she handed Angelique her key. Angelique smiled, her eyes already wandering toward the view beyond the open lobby. “I think I already do,” she replied. Her days quickly fell into an easy rhythm. She woke without alarms, sunlight spilling gently into her room as the distant sound of waves replaced the responsibilities that usually filled her mornings. Instead of rushing through routines, she lingered—stretching lazily, enjoying the simple luxury of having nowhere to be. One morning, she found herself walking barefoot along the shore, the sand warm beneath her feet as the waves brushed lightly against her ankles. She laughed softly when the water splashed higher than expected, lifting her dress slightly as she stepped back, only to move forward again moments later. “You’ll get used to it,” a stranger nearby said with a grin. Angelique smiled back, a little embarrassed but amused. “I think I like not being used to it,” she replied. Afternoons were spent exploring—small cafés tucked into quiet corners, local markets filled with color and life, streets that wound unpredictably yet always seemed to lead somewhere beautiful. She allowed herself to wander without purpose, stopping whenever something caught her interest. At one café, she sat by the window, watching people pass as she sipped something sweet and unfamiliar. “You’re not from here,” the server observed casually. Angelique shook her head. “Is it that obvious?” “Only because you look like you’re seeing everything for the first time,” the server said with a smile. Angelique considered that, then laughed softly. “Maybe I am.” Evenings were her favorite. The sky would melt into shades of gold and rose, the horizon stretching endlessly as the sun dipped lower. She often sat by the water, knees drawn close, simply watching as the day faded into night. There was something peaceful about it—something that made her feel small in the best possible way, as though the world was vast and full of possibilities she had yet to discover. One night, as the breeze grew cooler and the stars began to appear, she whispered to herself, “I should have done this sooner.” She didn’t think about responsibilities. She didn’t think about documents or finances or the quiet pressure of maintaining everything on her own. For those few days, Angelique simply lived. And she was happy. Truly, effortlessly happy. When it was time to leave, she stood at the airport once more, her bag slightly heavier with souvenirs but her heart was lighter than it had been in years. “I’ll come back someday,” she murmured to herself. ============================== But the moment she arrived at her beloved home, Angelique suddenly felt something wrong. The sky was dimmer, the air heavier, the familiar comfort replaced by something she couldn’t quite name. Angelique saw her gates open, and she started walking faster, while feeling uneasy. “That’s strange,” she murmured, pushing it further as she stepped inside. There were unfamiliar cars parked near her house, and she could hear some voices inside. And because of that, her heart began to race. “Hello?” she called out, stepping inside. She saw some people walking back and forth inside her house, and they were total strangers. They are walking through her home as though they belonged there. “Excuse me,” Angelique said, her voice shaking despite her effort to steady it. “What are you doing in my house?” A man turned, clipboard in hand. “Oh, you must be Ms. Winter. We weren’t expecting you so soon.” Her confusion sharpened. “Why are you here?” “We’re here on behalf of the new owner,” he replied. The words didn’t make sense. “New… owner?” she repeated. He handed her a document. Angelique's hands trembled as she read the legal terms and the signatures on the paper. Her eyes widened when she saw her very own signature there. “No…” she whispered. “This isn’t right.” Her eyes fell to the name at the bottom. Prince Alexander Laurent. The happiness she had carried with her from her trip shattered instantly, slipping through her grasp like something fragile and irreplaceable. Just days ago, she felt free. Now, standing in the middle of a house that no longer belonged to her, she felt something else entirely, and she is feeling at lost. And somewhere beyond this moment, beyond the walls of this house, there was the man responsible for it. A man she had never met. A man she would soon come to face.