One-Year Contract with the Cold Billionaire

CHAPTER 2 — The Empty Mansion

The car pulled up before a set of tall iron gates that opened silently as we approached. Beyond them stood a house that looked more like a palace — grand, imposing, built of pale stone that gleamed even under an overcast sky. As I stepped out of the car and looked up at the rows of tall, gleaming windows, I felt smaller than ever. This was a world I didn’t belong to.

Arkan showed me inside. The hallway stretched wide and long, polished marble floors reflecting the crystal chandelier hanging high above. Every room we passed was spacious, beautifully furnished, and spotless — but there was no warmth in any of it. No photographs on the walls, no soft cushions left carelessly on sofas, no sign that anyone truly lived here. Just perfection, cold and quiet.

“Your room is this way,” he said, leading me up a wide staircase and along a corridor that seemed to go on forever. He opened a door at the end. Inside was a large bedroom with a high ceiling, heavy curtains, and a window that looked out over the garden at the back of the house. “The bathroom is through there. Towels are in the closet. Help yourself to whatever you need in the kitchen — the staff knows you’re here. I’ll have someone show you around tomorrow. For now… get settled.”

He started to leave, then paused in the doorway without turning around. “If you need anything, ask. But try not to wander into the west wing. That’s my private space.”

With that, he was gone. I stood there alone in that big, beautiful room, listening to the silence settle back over the house. It was the nicest place I had ever stayed in my life — and it felt lonelier than our cramped apartment back home.

The first few days passed in a routine that felt almost like a script I was reading but not part of. I would wake up early, eat breakfast in the dining room while the house was still quiet, and spend my days reading or walking in the garden. Arkan was always gone before I woke, and when he came back late at night, we would exchange only a few polite words before disappearing into our separate worlds. We were strangers living under the same roof, bound by ink on paper.

Then the storm came. It started in the afternoon, clouds rolling in heavy and dark, and by nightfall, the rain was hammering against the windows like handfuls of gravel. Thunder shook the walls, and somewhere outside, wind howled through the trees. I woke up around two in the morning shivering uncontrollably. My teeth were chattering, my head throbbed, and my throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. I pulled the duvet tighter around myself, but the cold wouldn’t go away. I knew I had a fever — and it was getting worse.

I lay there debating what to do. I could call for the housekeeper, but it was the middle of the night. Or I could try to find some medicine myself. I got out of bed, wrapped myself in a thick robe, and opened the door. The hallway was dimly lit by a small lamp on the wall far away. I took a few steps, then my vision swam. I reached out to steady myself against the wall — and my hand met something solid. Not the wall. A chest.

I looked up, my eyes blurry. Arkan stood there, his hair slightly messy, wearing dark trousers and a plain shirt, his concern showing more clearly than I had ever seen before.

“You’re burning up,” he said quietly, his voice serious but not angry. He didn’t wait for me to answer. He scooped me up effortlessly in his arms — I was too weak to even protest — and carried me back into my room. He laid me down gently and pulled the blanket up to my shoulders. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Minutes later, he returned with a thermometer, a glass of water, and medicine. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting while I swallowed the pills, then placed a cool cloth on my forehead. He didn’t leave. He pulled an armchair closer to the bed and sat there, watching over me, his expression softening in the dim light.

“Why are you doing this?” I murmured, my eyes heavy. “It’s just a contract.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it, “Just because it started that way doesn’t mean I have to be cruel. Rest, Lina. I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

I drifted off to sleep feeling safer than I had in a long time — and when I woke up hours later, he was still there.