d spent most of the night sitting on her kitchen floor, staring at the contract Teddy had given her, the words swimming on the page no matter how many times she

ng prisms of light dancing across the walls. "Dad," he said simply, his voice carrying no warmth but plenty of finality. "As you wished... I'll marry her." Silence hung for a moment, thick and charged, as the older man stared at their joined hands. Then- Joy. Pure, unfiltered joy lit up his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed softly, a sound that had been missing from the room for far too long. "Good, good..." he said, reaching out to pat Mira's hand gently. "Welcome to the family, my dear. This is exactly what our family needs." "Good day, sir," Mira said softly, bowing her head respectfully as Teddy released her hand, stepping back slightly to put distance between them. Teddy slipped his hands into his pockets, his tone shifting back to its usual sharp edge as he looked at his father. "You can stop pretending to be sick now. I know you've been up and about when the nurses aren't looking." "You little brat," his father snapped immediately, though there was no real anger behind it-only affection. He picked up a cushion from the chair and tossed it lightly at Teddy. "How dare you speak to me like that? I'm still your father." Teddy rolled his eyes, a small smile touching his lips for just a second before it vanished. "Sure you are. That's why you've been faking illness to manipulate me into getting married." Mira stood awkwardly between them, unsure where to look, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The room felt suddenly too small, too intimate for the complicated relationship playing out before her. Then the older man turned to her, his voice softening into something warm and kind. "Mira," he said gently, his eyes taking in her simple dress and the way she held herself-carefully, as if afraid to take up too much space. "From today onward... you are the mistress of the Witherson family. This house is your home now." The words settled heavily in the room, carrying more weight than any contract could. Mira glanced at Teddy, finding him already looking at her-his expression unreadable, his amber eyes dark with something she couldn't name. A brief, silent exchange-uncomfortable, unspoken, binding. Then Teddy broke it, stepping toward the door. "I have matters to attend to at the company," he said casually, as if he hadn't just announced his engagement moments before. "I'll leave first." And just like that- He turned and walked out, the door closing behind him with a soft click that echoed in the quiet room. Mira blinked, caught off guard by how quickly he left her behind. She'd thought he might stay, might at least introduce her properly, but he was already gone-already putting distance between himself and this new life he'd agreed to. She forced a polite smile toward his father, her lips feeling stiff and unfamiliar. "Have a nice day, Mr. Witherson. I'll... I'll see myself out." Then she turned and hurried after Teddy, her footsteps quick on the marble floor as she tried to catch up before he left the house entirely. The moment the door closed behind her- Another door inside the room opened quietly, revealing a small adjoining space where medical equipment was neatly arranged. A man in a white coat stepped out, adjusting his glasses as he walked toward the older man, concern etched across his face. "Master," the doctor said softly, checking the monitor beside the chair. "Why haven't you told him about your lung cancer? The latest scans show it's progressed faster than we expected-you need to start treatment immediately." The older man didn't answer immediately. He stared at the closed door, his smile fading into something sad and thoughtful. "He might understand," the doctor continued gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If he knew how serious it is... he wouldn't behave this way. He'd understand why you've been so focused on him getting married, on securing the family line." A slow smile spread across Mr. Witherson's face, his eyes distant as he thought of his son. "One day," he said softly, his voice barely audible. "He will understand my intentions. I'm not just thinking about the family legacy-I'm thinking about who will take care of him when I'm gone. He needs someone strong, someone kind... someone who can see past his walls and reach the man underneath." He looked down at his hands, his fingers tracing the edge of the armchair. "He'll be angry when he finds out. But he'll understand eventually." By evening, Mira found herself standing inside Teddy's house-not the family mansion, but his personal residence in the city, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood where the houses were large but not ostentatious. Cold. Minimal. Immaculate. Every surface was polished to a high shine, every item in its place as if the house were a museum exhibit rather th