The CEO's Unwanted Bride

Not a Contract Anymore

Chapter 10 —

The morning after was quiet.

Mia woke up in her own room — nothing had happened beyond that kiss, soft and brief and enormous — but something had shifted in the architecture of the penthouse. The air felt different. The silence felt different.

She found him on the balcony with two cups of coffee.

He handed her one without being asked.

They stood side by side watching the city wake up, and for a while neither of them spoke. It was the most comfortable silence she'd ever sat inside.

"I want to tear up the contract," he said finally.

She turned to look at him.

"Not the marriage," he added quickly, still looking at the skyline. "Just — the terms. The rules. The performance of it." A pause. "I want to start over. Properly."

"Properly," she repeated.

"As two people who chose each other." He turned to look at her then. Morning light caught the edges of him — softened the line of his jaw, warmed the dark of his eyes. "If you want that."

Mia looked at this man — this closed-off, rule-making, piano-playing, quietly grieving man — and felt something settle in her chest like the last piece of a very long puzzle.

"There's something I need to know first," she said.

He waited.

"The east wing." She nodded toward the door behind them. "The piano. Will you play for me again? Not because I asked. Because you want to."

Something moved across his face — something open and unguarded and entirely new.

"Yes," he said.

She smiled. Wrapped both hands around her coffee mug. Looked back out at the city.

"Then yes," she said. "Let's start over."

He didn't reach for her hand this time. Instead, he turned back to the skyline, stood a little closer than he needed to, and let their shoulders touch.

Simple. Real. Chosen.

Down below, the city hummed on, indifferent and enormous.

Up here, something small and true was beginning.

And for the first time in longer than either of them could rem

ember, that was enough.