"Well, seeing as you've asked me to meet your family for introductions," Fidelia said, crossing one leg over the other, "I suggest you sign the marriage contract first."
Adrian arched a brow. "Hmm. I see what you're doing." He smirked faintly. "But no tricks, Fidelia. I already agreed to bring you. The deal with George still stands."
"Not a problem."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a brown envelope, placing it on the table between them with a soft thud.
Adrian took his time opening it, scanning the papers as she spoke.
"The terms are simple," Fidelia said evenly. "Eight months. That's how long this marriage needs to last. After that, we can dissolve it quietly."
Adrian's eyes flicked up at her. "Eight months? That's awfully specific."
"Eight months is all I need," she replied, her tone sharp. "For my revenge. For putting things in place."
He skimmed further, then gave a small, amused snort. "You've outlined boundaries. No sharing private lives. Only act like a couple in public. Beyond that, no interference."
"Exactly."
Adrian leaned back, tossing the contract lightly onto the table. "Cute. But you seem to think only you get to set the rules."
Fidelia raised a brow. "And what rules do you want?"
He leaned forward now, his tone cool. "First, no public scandals that hurt my name. You can ruin Silas all you want, but don't drag me down with you."
"Fair," she said simply.
"Second," he continued, "if I need you at any event — family, corporate, social — you show up. No excuses."
She smirked. "As long as you don't expect me to actually play the doting wife."
He ignored the jab. "And lastly… you help me win the board over. That means smiling for the cameras, playing nice with the right people, and, if needed, acting like you actually like me."
Fidelia tilted her head. "So basically, do my job as your wife… without actually being your wife."
Adrian smirked. "Exactly."
"Then I have one more to add. We may marry out of contract, but I don't share... meaning your casanova playboy act as to stop, " Fidelia said more seriously now.
"Do I sense jealousy?" Andrian smiled, looking at her.
"Sense anything you want.."
"Fine...I'll 6
She paused, considering — then extended her hand across the table. "Deal."
He took her hand, firm and deliberate. "Eight months," he said. "Let's see if you're worth the trouble."
"Oh," she leaned in slightly, her voice smooth, "you'll find I always am."
...
The Richardson Family Dinner
The dining room looked like something out of a magazine — marble floors, a crystal chandelier, a table so long Fidelia swore it could host a United Nations summit.
Adrian led her in confidently, his hand on the small of her back as though to reassure her. It worked — a little.
Helena Richardson, Adrian's mother, rose from her seat to greet them with a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Fidelia," she said, her tone even. "We're so glad you could join us on such short notice."
"Thank you for inviting me," Fidelia replied, equally poised.
They took their seats. Charles Looked and said nothing, Damien, Adrian's second older brother, leaned back in his chair, already swirling his wine like he owned the place.
Maya, the younger sister, was glued to her phone. At the head of the table sat Grandmother Richardson, elegant and formidable, her sharp gaze fixed on Fidelia like she was reading her soul.
Once everyone was served, Helena started the conversation.
"So, Fidelia," Helena said smoothly, "Adrian tells us… This is new. But forgive me, we can't help but wonder. You broke off an engagement with Silas Crawford — and now you're here. With my son. That's… fast."
There it was. The polite jab.
Fidelia met her gaze, smiling pleasantly. "When you know something isn't working, Helena, you don't waste time trying to fix it. You walk away."
Damien let out a low chuckle. "So you walked away from Silas and straight into Adrian's arms? Efficient."
"Damien," Adrian warned, his voice cool.
"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." Damien smirked. "People will talk. They'll say it's about money. Or power."
Fidelia didn't flinch. "People will always talk," she replied. "And they're usually wrong."
Grandmother Richardson finally spoke, her voice soft but commanding. "Then tell us, child — why are you here? Is it for love? Or for what comes with being a Richardson?"
The words hung heavy in the air.
Before Fidelia could answer, Adrian cut in smoothly. "She's here because she chose to be. Isn't that enough for now?"
The grandmother tilted her head, studying him. "Protective, aren't you?"
Adrian smirked. "She deserves it."
Maya finally looked up from her phone, breaking the tension. "Honestly? I like her," she said, eyeing Fidelia with an approving glance. "At least she has a backbone. Way more interesting than the girls you usually bring home, Adrian."
"Thanks… I think," Fidelia said with a small laugh.
Helena sipped her wine, her eyes still on Fidelia. "You do understand what it means to marry into this family, don't you? This isn't just champagne parties and fancy last names. There's pressure. Responsibility. Expectations."
"I understand perfectly," Fidelia replied calmly. "And I'm not easily scared."
Damien leaned back, smirking. "A tiger doesn't change its stripes. Do you really think you can handle Adrian when he's at his worst?"
Adrian's smile didn't reach his eyes as he turned to his brother. "Careful, Damien. You're starting to sound jealous."
"Jealous? Of you?" Damien laughed dryly. "You're lucky if this one lasts more than six months."
"I'll last exactly as long as I want to," Fidelia cut in smoothly, her tone sweet but firm.
The grandmother chuckled, seemingly amused by the sparring. "She's quick. I like her."
The conversation gradually shifted to wedding talk.
"I think a private engagement dinner first," Helena suggested.
"Public," the grandmother interjected. "It needs to be public. People need to see it. The right people."
"Prenup?" Damien added with a smirk.
Adrian shot him a warning glance, but Fidelia just smiled. "Of course. Whatever makes you feel safe."
Maya piped up. "Can I help pick your dress? Please tell me you're not boring. I can't survive another beige bridal gown."
"I'll need all the help I can get," Fidelia said lightly.
...
The dinner had ended. Fidelia excused herself to the hallway while Adrian stayed behind, caught up in a conversation with his grandmother.
She was scrolling through her phone when she heard a smooth voice behind her.
"Not bad," Damien said.
Fidelia turned to see him leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, that same cocky smirk on his face.
"You held your own in there," he added. "I can see why Adrian likes you."
"Glad I could impress," Fidelia replied, her tone cool.
Damien stepped closer, deliberately invading her space. "But, between us…" His eyes ran over her. "Do you actually like him? Or are you just here to play the game?"
Fidelia gave him a sharp look. "You always this nosy with your brother's relationships?"
"Only when they're interesting," Damien said with a sly grin. "You could do better than him, you know. Someone who understands you. Someone like—"
"someone who needs to back off."
The interruption came from Maya, standing at the other end of the hall, arms crossed.
Damien turned, rolling his eyes. "Relax, little sister. I'm just having a conversation."
"Yeah, well, maybe try having it three feet away from her face," Maya shot back.
Fidelia hid a smirk as Maya walked over and looped her arm through hers.
"Come on," Maya said to Fidelia. "I'll give you the grand tour. You don't need to waste your time with him."
Damien raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Have fun, ladies."
As they walked away, Maya leaned in and whispered, "Word of advice? Never take anything Damien says seriously. He likes poking people just to see how they react."
"Good to know," Fidelia replied with a small, knowing smile.
.....
The dining room was quiet now, the maids clearing the last of the dishes. Upstairs, Fidelia was in the guest room Adrian had arranged for her.
In the study, Damien poured himself a drink, lounging on one of the armchairs as his older brother Charles — tall, broad-shouldered, and far more serious — stood by the window.
"You saw her," Damien said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Pretty. Smart. Knows how to talk. Almost makes you forget she's trouble."
Charles didn't turn around. "You think she's trouble because she is trouble. Adrian doesn't bring home women like that unless he's making a point."
Damien smirked. "And you think she isn't here for money or power? Please. She's a Crawford. And she ditched Silas? That screams desperation."
Finally, Charles faced him. "All the more reason we need to be careful. If she's marrying Adrian, we need to know everything about her. Her secrets. Her weaknesses."
Damien tilted his head. "You're saying… use her against him?"
Charles' voice was calm, calculated. "Adrian is reckless. This… marriage could shift the balance of the company. If we play it right, she'll be his undoing."
Damien chuckled. "I like the way you think, brother."
Charles picked up his phone. "Call Andrew. Tell him to get the secretary digging. I want every file, every rumour, every skeleton in Fidelia Crawford's closet. If she has any cracks, we'll find them."