The black May bach idled outside the hotel, its matte finish swallowing the sunlight.

Hailey maintained composure as Aldrich opened the door for her, but internally, her jaw dropped. Just how rich is this man?

Rich enough that a million-yuan necklace would be pocket change. The thought eased her guilt slightly.

They stopped before a dilapidated apartment complex.

“Wait here.” She bolted upstairs to retrieve her household register from the fifth-floor flat she shared with her best friend Bella. The place was empty—Bella likely out chasing scoops for her tabloid job.

On her way down, Second Aunt Liu materialized like gossip incarnate.

“Hailey!” The neighborhood’s self-appointed intelligence director grabbed her arm. “Someone here got kept!” She jerked her chin toward the Maybach. “That car’s worth at least 500,000!”

Hailey nearly choked. Try nine million.

“Could just be a company car,” she offered weakly.

Aunt Liu sniffed. “I’ve studied this field for forty years ! Mark my words—someone’s being pampered!”

“Your scallions are wilting,” Hailey hinted desperately.

Back in the car, she muttered, “They think you’re my sugar daddy.”

Aldrich’s brow arched. “Sugar daddies expect certain... payments.”

“What payments?”

“What do you think they’re paying for?”

Realization dawned. Her face flamed. “This is purely transactional!”

“Purely?” His lips quirked.

At the civil registry, pre-arranged staff ushered them past queues.

Every head turned as they walked in—men and women alike. Hailey, accustomed to attention, now understood most stares were for the godlike figure beside her.

Over 185cm. Bespoke suit that probably costs more than my annual rent. Walks like he owns the earth.

She almost smiled. At least this fake husband was aesthetically pleasing.

The process flowed smoothly until the signature moment. Pen hovering, Hailey froze.

Marrying a stranger for a deal. Would Mom approve?

“Miss Hailey?” The clerk hesitation.

Aldrich’s signature already slashed across the form like a blade stroke. His gaze turned glacial. “Don’t tell me you’re reconsidering.”

The clerk grew suspicious. “Are you marrying voluntarily?”

Before Hailey could respond, an iron arm hauled her against a rock-hard chest. Cool fingers tilted her chin up—

His mouth crashed onto hers.

The registry office erupted in gasps and cheers.

Last night’s intimacy had been drunken darkness. This—this was daylight robbery of her senses. His heat, his scent, the faint scrape of stubble—all weaponized against her sanity.

When he released her, she was panting, face scarlet. He looked infuriatingly unruffled.

“She asked if you were voluntary.”

Scrawg her name, Hailey grabbed both marriage certificates and dragged him out, ignoring the squeals behind them:

“That was straight out of a drama!”

“Why do handsome ones always get taken?!”