"The First Morning as Mrs. Blackwell"

Elena woke to the soft glow of morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She briefly lost track of where she was. Then came reality. She was no longer in her cozy, little apartment. She was in Nicholas Blackwell's penthouse.

Her new residence Elena exhaled slowly while rubbing the silk sheets with her fingers. She was thinking about last night's events—the contract, the rules, and Nicholas's hard-to-read expression as he left her alone in this strange bed. One year.

The deal was that. She could handle one year.

She stood abruptly when the doorbell rang. "Elena."

Nicholas's deep, commanding voice carried through the room.

She quickly pulled the blanket tighter around herself, as if that could shield her from the weight of her new reality. "Come in," Nicholas stepped inside when the door swung open, looking calm and collected in a tailored black suit. His sharp gaze swept over her disheveled state, his lips twitching in mild amusement.

"Being at home on your first day as Mrs. Blackwell?"

Elena arched a brow. "Is there a rule for that as well?" Nicholas made a grin. "Not in writing. But you do have somewhere to be."

She was tense. "Where?"

A brunch for business. You'll get to meet some of my friends. She felt her stomach turn. She had anticipated appearances in social settings, but not this quickly. What if I decline? She put up a fight. Nicholas's smirk sharpened and his eyes got darker. "Then you would violate rule number three." Elena sighed. She had no choice. "Fine. When shall we depart?" Nicholas looked at his watch briefly. "Eighty-two minutes." Her jaw fell open. "Are you lying?" "Very."

He then turned and left, leaving her with no time to argue. ---

The Changing Situation Twenty-five minutes later, Nicholas gave Elena a sophisticated navy-blue dress, which she adjusted in front of a huge mirror in the walk-in closet. Elegant and imposing, it fit like a second skin. She was barely self-aware. Gone was the struggling writer who spent her mornings in worn-out sweatpants, typing away at her laptop.

She was succeeded by Mrs. Blackwell.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock. "Ready?"

Nicholas was standing in the doorway when Elena turned to see him looking over at her. His expression flickered briefly, perhaps in approval, but it vanished too quickly to be certain. He spoke softly, "You clean up well." Elena bowed her head. "I'd say thanks, but I wasn't exactly free, wasn't I?" Nicholas clenched his lips. "Good. You're learning."

With effortless ease, he extended his arm.

After a brief hesitation, Elena took it.

His touch was firm, steady.

They stepped into the world, which at that point expected her to be Mrs., in a flash. Blackwell.

---

The First Test

The restaurant was extravagant—the kind of place where millionaires wielded power over champagne flutes and whispered billion-dollar deals. Even though her pulse was racing, Elena maintained her straight back and calm expression. As he led her toward a private table, Nicholas's grip on her waist was firm but casual. Waiting were three sharply dressed men and one elegantly poised woman. "Elena, meet Christopher Langston, Victor Hale, and Mark Bennett," Nicholas introduced smoothly. Then, his gaze flickered to the woman. "This is Valerie Dupont," he said. Evacuating, Valerie looked around at Elena. This is the brand-new Mrs. Blackwell," she mused, her voice dripping with curiosity.

Elena gave a cordial smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Valerie smirked. "The pleasure belongs to me, dear. We were all quite surprised when Nicholas announced his marriage."

Elena felt the subtle pressure of Nicholas's fingers tightening at her waist.

He gave a soft smile. "Surprises, don't they, keep life interesting?" Christopher Langston made a grin. I have to say, Nicholas, that you have a lot of them. However, I do hope your marriage hasn't changed you. Elena noticed a slight shift in Nicholas' demeanor despite the fact that his expression remained unchanged. Softened?

Nothing could possibly soften Nicholas Blackwell, in her opinion. The conversation turned to business, and Elena listened carefully, absorbing every word. To keep their facade intact, Nicholas's hand would occasionally rest lightly on hers. She played the part well—smiling, nodding, responding with just enough warmth to be convincing.

For all they knew, she and Nicholas were madly in love.

And she intended to keep it that way.

---

A Warning

As soon as they slid into the backseat of the sleek black car, Elena let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Well, that was exhausting," she muttered.

Nicholas glanced her way as he sat next to her in effortless calm. "You did a good job." She looked up. "Really?"

He nodded. "No blunders." Elena shook her head. "Was that your method of expressing gratitude?" Nicholas smirked. "Don't push your luck."

She rolled her eyes and peered out the window, allowing the city to pass by in a blur. His tone suddenly changed to serious. "Watch out for Valerie." Elena turned to face him again. "Why?"

Nicholas' jaw slightly contracted. She enjoys looking for flaws. Elena took a big inhale. "And what are my weaknesses?" Nicholas's gaze lingered on her, his expression unreadable.

He then turned away. "Let's hope she doesn't find out."

She felt a strange chill in her body. She realized for the first time that this was more than just pretending to be married. Hidden games and unspoken rules were present. Additionally, she wasn't sure if she was prepared to play. ---