The Wrong Vow, My Perfect Match

Chapter 4: Moving to the Mansion

"Pack your things. We're moving."

The next morning, Damien announced this casually over breakfast.

Stella nearly choked on her coffee. "Moving? Where?"

"To our real home." He looked at her calmly. "This apartment is just my temporary place."

Stella glanced around the already-luxurious riverside penthouse with its floor-to-ceiling windows and imported Italian furniture. *This* was temporary?

What would his real home look like?

"But I just got settled here..." she said weakly.

"You'll like the new place better." Damien's lips curved slightly. "Trust me."

***

Half an hour later, their car entered Cloud Peak Estate—the most exclusive neighborhood in the entire city.

Stella had only read about this place in magazines. Every mansion here was worth over a hundred million dollars. It was where the true elite lived.

"Mr. Lu." The security guard at the entrance saluted immediately, his posture military-precise.

They drove through tree-lined private roads. Manicured gardens stretched on both sides. Other massive estates peeked through the greenery.

Finally, they stopped before a white European-style villa.

Stella stepped out of the car, her neck craning as she took in the building.

Three stories tall. At least ten thousand square feet, maybe more. A marble fountain sparkled in the front courtyard. Perfectly trimmed hedges lined the driveway. In the distance, she could see a private pool and what looked like a tennis court.

This...was where she'd be living?

"Welcome home, Mrs. Lu."

A line of staff stood at the entrance—maids in crisp uniforms, a butler in a tailored suit, gardeners in work clothes—all greeting her in perfect unison.

Stella jumped at the display. This was like something out of a period drama.

Damien wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. "Don't be nervous. They're all our people. They work for us."

"I've never..." Stella whispered, "I've never had people bow to me before."

"You'll get used to it." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if having a dozen staff members was completely normal.

The head housekeeper stepped forward—an elegant woman in her fifties with kind eyes and silver-streaked hair pulled into a neat bun.

"Mrs. Lu, I'm Mrs. Li. I've been managing this household for twenty years." She spoke with warmth and respect. "If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Mrs. Li." Stella managed a smile.

"Shall I show you to your room?"

Stella glanced at Damien. He nodded encouragingly.

***

Mrs. Li led them through a grand foyer with a crystal chandelier, up a sweeping marble staircase, past rooms whose doors stood open to reveal libraries, sitting rooms, and what looked like a home theater.

"The master suite is on the third floor," Mrs. Li explained. "Mr. Lu wanted to ensure you had complete privacy and the best views."

She opened double doors at the end of the hallway.

Stella's breath caught.

The master suite was enormous—at least a thousand square feet. Maybe bigger than her entire childhood apartment.

Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around two walls, overlooking the entire city. Even in daylight, the view was breathtaking.

A massive bed sat on a raised platform, draped in silk. A sitting area with plush sofas occupied one corner. Fresh flowers—white roses and orchids—filled crystal vases throughout the room.

"And through here..." Mrs. Li opened another door.

The walk-in closet was the size of a small boutique. Rows upon rows of designer clothes hung perfectly spaced—dresses, blouses, pants, coats. Shoes lined one entire wall. Jewelry glittered in glass cases.

"Mr. Lu had these prepared over the past week," Mrs. Li said, her voice warm with approval. "All custom-made to your measurements. He was very particular about the selections."

Stella turned to Damien, who stood in the doorway watching her reaction.

"You did all this...in one week?"

"I wanted you to feel comfortable." He said it so simply, as if spending what must have been hundreds of thousands of dollars was nothing.

Tears pricked Stella's eyes. Damien was so good to her. Almost too good.

So good it felt unreal, like a dream she might wake from.

"Something wrong?" Damien entered, concern flickering across his usually controlled expression. "If you don't like the clothes, we can order different ones. Or if you want to choose them yourself—"

"No." Stella shook her head quickly. "They're beautiful. Everything is beautiful. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"It feels surreal." She admitted softly. "Like any moment I'll wake up back in my old apartment, and none of this will be real."

Damien walked to her, taking both her hands in his. "It's real, Stella. You're not dreaming."

He guided her to the windows overlooking the city.

"I've lived in this house since I was ten years old," he said quietly. "After my father died, my mother moved us here. It's been my home for eighteen years."

"But it never really felt like home. It was just...a place. A big, empty place where I lived alone."

He turned to look at her. "Until now. With you here, it finally feels like a home."

Stella's heart clenched. This powerful man, who seemed to have everything, had been so lonely.

"Damien..."

"You don't have to say anything." He squeezed her hands gently. "Just...stay. Make this place come alive."

Before she could respond, he seemed to remember something.

"Oh, by the way," his tone shifted back to casual, "don't enter the room next door to this one."

"Why not?"

"My study. I keep confidential company documents there. For security reasons."

"Okay." Stella nodded.

But that only made her more curious. What kind of documents required such secrecy?

***

Mrs. Li gave them a complete tour of the mansion. There was a gym, a wine cellar, a music room with a grand piano, an indoor pool for winter, and even a small movie theater in the basement.

By evening, Stella's head was spinning.

After dinner—prepared by a chef who'd apparently trained in Paris—Damien had to take a video conference call.

"Make yourself at home," he told her. "I'll be done in an hour."

Stella wandered the third floor, still unable to believe this was real.

She ended up in the master bedroom, staring out at the city lights beginning to twinkle below.

When she finally lay down in the enormous bed, she felt lost. The bed was too big. The room was too quiet.

The villa was so large. Damien's study was on the other side of the floor.

Despite the luxury surrounding her, she felt...lonely.

Strange, considering they'd only known each other a few days.

But she missed him. Missed his presence, his calm voice, the way he made her feel safe.

***

Around eleven PM, Stella was still awake, staring at the ceiling.

She heard soft sounds outside. Footsteps in the hallway.

Curiosity won. She threw on the silk robe Mrs. Li had left for her and crept to the door.

The corridor glowed with dim recessed lighting, elegant even at night.

She saw a figure moving toward the forbidden study—the room next door.

Damien.

Still working this late?

Stella hesitated, remembering his warning not to enter.

But concern overrode caution. She padded down the hallway in bare feet.

The study door was slightly ajar. Soft light spilled through the gap.

She peeked inside.

Damien sat at a massive desk, facing three large computer monitors. Each screen displayed dense spreadsheets, financial reports, and what looked like architectural plans.

He'd removed his suit jacket. His white shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he'd run his fingers through it repeatedly.

The focused intensity on his face, the slight furrow between his brows, the way his long fingers moved across the keyboard—it all made him look devastatingly attractive in a completely different way from his usual polished appearance.

Stella stood frozen, just watching him work.

"Seen enough?"

She jumped, her hand flying to her mouth.

Damien swiveled his chair toward the door, one eyebrow raised. But his eyes held amusement, not anger.

"How—how did you know I was here?"

"Your breathing." He stood, walking toward her. "You were holding your breath. It was very obvious."

"I..." Stella's face burned. "I'm sorry. You said not to come in here. I just saw the light and wanted to make sure you were okay—"

"It's fine." Damien reached the door, pushing it fully open. "Come in."

"But you said confidential—"

"You're my wife." He pulled her gently into the room. "Even if it's a contract marriage, you're allowed in my study."

The room was beautiful—walls lined with bookshelves, a sitting area with leather chairs, that impressive desk setup.

"You're still working?" Stella glanced at the screens. "It's almost midnight."

"Just finishing some quarterly reports." He rubbed the back of his neck, and she saw the tiredness in his eyes for the first time. "Had to push a few things to make time for moving you in."

Guilt twisted in her chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to create extra work—"

"Don't apologize." Damien touched her cheek gently. "You're not extra work. You're the most important thing."

Stella's heart raced.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

"The bed's too big." She admitted. "I'm not used to...all this space. It's too quiet."

"Want me to keep you company until you fall asleep?"

Her face flushed. "N-no need!"

"Sure?" A hint of mischief flickered in his eyes—a side of him she rarely saw. "I could tell you a bedtime story."

"You know bedtime stories?"

"No." He admitted with complete seriousness. "But I could read you quarterly earnings reports. Very effective for inducing sleep."

Stella burst out laughing. "That's terrible!"

"Is it working? Are you tired yet?"

"No!" But she was smiling, the loneliness from earlier completely gone.

This man. This usually cold, controlled man showed such an endearing, awkward side around her.

"Alright, go back to bed." Damien's expression softened. "I'll finish up here and check on you in a bit."

"Don't stay up too late. You need sleep too."

"Worried about me?" His voice was low, intimate.

"We're husband and wife," Stella said, the words coming more naturally now. "Even if it's a contract, we should care about each other. Right?"

Damien's eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn't quite read. "Right."

Stella turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Damien?"

"Yes?"

"Good night."

He smiled—a real, genuine smile that transformed his entire face. "Good night, Stella."

Back in the master bedroom, Stella climbed into the enormous bed.

But this time, she didn't feel lonely.

She pulled the silk covers up to her chin, thinking about Damien's smile, his gentle touch, the way he'd said her name.

She was falling for this man. Falling hard.

And she wasn't sure if that was wonderful...or terrifying.

Maybe both.

As sleep finally claimed her, her last thought was that despite everything—the contract, the secrets, the uncertainty—she didn't regret marrying him.

Not even a little bit.

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