Helena stared at Airon, absorbing the shock of the pact and the confirmation of her new, horrifying reality.
A co-conspirator. Okay, this is an unexpected twist. I knew I was in a novel, but I thought I was just the disposable rival. Turns out, I'm essential plot armor for the male lead to meet the female lead. My primary goal: survival. His primary goal: romance. I guess we are aligned.
She quickly shifted from shocked silence to quiet compliance.
"Okay, Airon, stop," Helena said, her voice surprisingly steady and flat. "If I'm your partner, you need to bring me up to speed. Tell me what I am, who I hate, and the basic plot summary. I can't help if I don't even know the rule set."
Airon watched her, his expression a tight mask of skepticism. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, and sighed—a sound of pure, high-level corporate exhaustion.
"Helena, you're cooperating. This is new, and frankly, disturbing. But fine," Airon conceded, his tone sharp and impatient. "I'll give you the need-to-know summary. Pay attention."
"You are the controlling heir of D'Arven Corp., and a social headache," Airon stated. "I am Airon Thalorien, CEO of Thalorien Group. Our families are merging assets tomorrow. You have two elder brothers and one younger step-brother; you are estranged from all of them. Tonight's formal dinner is hosted by your married elder brother."
He paused. "Now, the pact: You and I have known each other since childhood. We made an arrangement—a transaction, really. You promised to use your corporate power to clear regulatory and familial obstacles for me. In return, I gave you my social influence and a private guarantee of protection from your father."
Airon leaned forward slightly, his eyes cold. "Your personal goal, which you were dangerously obsessed with, was getting me and Saira (Seraphina) together."
Wait, Saira is the Heroine. Airon is the Male Lead. And the Second Lead is matchmaking? Aika's inner nerd lit up. Ah, the classic long-game sabotage. She was probably planning to ruin their relationship after the wedding. Mega-Second Lead points confirmed.
Airon continued, slightly exasperated by her blank stare: "If your amnesia makes you unstable, the Chairman will pull your shares, the deal collapses, and I lose everything. Do you understand the risk?"
Helena gave a single, slow nod. "Understood. High risk, high reward."
Perfect. I'm operating under Airon's protection with a clearly defined mission and an obvious enemy (the Chairman). This is cleaner than my old life. Aika felt a strange sense of intellectual relief. Emotional attachment is messy; transactions are clean. I can handle this.
"Okay," Helena said, her voice now calm. "So, the dinner is a family obligation and a business front. And Saira is attending."
Airon confirmed with a clipped nod. "Saira is also coming today. That's why you have to go at all costs."
Helena looked directly at Airon, a strategic, almost clinical resolve replacing her earlier panic.
"Fine," Helena said, her voice strong and firm. "If I'm your partner, I need the full intelligence report on Saira right now. Everything. Her favorite color, her history with you, what she hates, everything. I need the whole file, Airon."
She stood up, still draped in the ridiculous cashmere. "And I need proper clothes. Not those horrible party gowns. Something that says 'stable, mysterious, and slightly traumatic.' You have five minutes to brief me on Saira while your assistant gets the stylists."
"Fine, I'll tell you on the way, but let's go first," Airon conceded, standing up. "Get up. We are going to purchase new clothes. I can't have you showing up to the Thalorien manor looking like a cashmere burrito."
The Normal Shop Mission
Helena shot up from the couch. "So where is the money? I mean, my cards?"
Airon looked at her in utter disbelief. "You don't have any cards. You get cash allowances directly from your father. Did you forget this too?"
Oh, hell no, man! I was ready to accept this life just because at least I am rich! Aika's moral compass spun violently. I need financial independence for my escape plan.
Helena ignored Airon and launched into a frantic search, checking designer purses on the shelf. There were thick wads of cash stuffed into every single bag. A small, dry smile finally broke out on Helena's face.
"Look! I said I do have!" she announced triumphantly, collecting an enormous pile of bills. She shoved it into Airon's hand. "Take it! I'll pay for the clothes. We are partners, right?"
Airon didn't even glance at the massive stack of bills. He sighed, pushed the cash back toward her, and moved toward the door. "Keep it to yourself. I am buying the clothes. It's faster. Now let's go."
Dependence confirmed. Helena quickly bundled the cash into a small side bag, slung it over her shoulder, and hurried to follow him.
As she caught up, the Head Butler approached them.
"Yes, everything is okay, Madam. But Madam Clara called and asked me to give you a message. She is coming today."
Helena leaned slightly into Airon, keeping her voice low. "Who is Madam?"
Airon replied curtly, "Your mother. Keep moving."
Helena immediately straightened up, giving the Butler a composed look. "Oh, sir, you mean Mother! Oh, okay. Tell her I got the message."
Another variable! The Mother. I'll need a flow chart for this family soon.
Moments later, they pulled up to an exclusive luxury mall. Airon steered her toward a high-end boutique.
A well-groomed sales associate immediately rushed over. "Something bold in sapphire, or perhaps a more understated emerald?"
Preference? Sapphire? Emerald? I only know two styles: Sweatpants and Not Sweatpants. Aika's internal world crashed.
"No. I don't want any of those," Helena announced haughtily. "I want to reinvent my style. I need something that allows me to be completely inconspicuous. Something... invisible. I don't want a single person to notice me."
The associate, completely misunderstanding, pulled out a gown blazing with tiny, glittering sequins.
Aika saw the dress and, anticipating the astronomical price tag, her composure instantly broke. Oh, hell no. That looks like it costs more than my old car! It's a literal walking mortgage!
"I think we don't need anything! We came at the wrong place!" Helena declared loudly, masking her financial panic with the real Helena's demanding tone.
She swiftly grabbed Airon's arm, digging in slightly, and started physically pushing him with surprising, desperate strength toward the glass doors.
"Let's go in a normal shop!" she hissed to him in a low, furious voice. "They are just trying to make us poor! Let's get out of this place!"
Airon sighed, letting himself be maneuvered through the door. This new, aggressive aversion to spending money was the strangest symptom of her amnesia yet.
The Camouflage Strategy
Minutes later, they were parked near a large, mid-range department store.
Helena marched inside, moving quickly and efficiently. She picked pale colors, mostly black, and simple, unassuming silhouettes. She placed the stack of casual wear on the counter, ready to pay with her retrieved cash.
"I think," Airon began, his tone laced with disbelief, "at least, you have to try if... This is what you really think is suitable."
Helena's face transformed into an exaggerated, smug expression of triumphant confidence. "You don't know how to shop, Mr. Airon, I think," she declared. "When the goal is invisibility, speed, and cost efficiency are key. We have successfully avoided bankruptcy, and I have achieved maximum camouflage."
She then pulled out her enormous wad of cash. "I will be paying now. We still have to discuss Saira."
After paying, Helena went straight to the shoe section and located a pair of simple, flat white sneakers. A young sales associate rushed over to help.
Helena recoiled. "sir, I can do it myself," she said quickly, dismissing the shocked associate.
She efficiently set to work, binding the laces herself. Once done, she jumped up, testing the new springy soles, and beamed at Airon with simple, innocent pride. "This is okay! Done! Let's pay for that!"
The Car Ride and Strategic Win
Minutes later, they were back in the sleek black sedan.
"Airon," Helena began, her tone switching back to business. "Tell me about Saira. I need to know everything if I am to 'help' you tonight."
Airon sighed and put down his phone. "Saira, or Seraphina Liora. She's an architect. Highly intelligent, fiercely independent. Her style is quiet, favoring muted blues and grays."
Helena pressed him. "Why do you even need my help? Isn't that counterproductive?"
"Because the old you spent months publicly humiliating her. You need to apologize for your past behavior, ease her entrance into the family circle, and make her comfortable enough to agree to a formal courtship. That is your job. You are the social lubricant."
"Fine," Helena said, switching to her determined tone. "And since I have amnesia, and the Chairman himself said I am not fit for business, why don't I take a break until I'm stable? Let my brothers handle it."
Airon looked out the window, weighing the risks. She had given him the perfect, logical out. "Fine," Airon conceded. "As you wish. You will focus on regaining your stability and your social image. The business part of the agreement is paused."
A wave of internal relief washed over Aika. Yes! A corporate hiatus! Phase 1: Survival and Corporate Delay—Success.
"Good," Helena said. "Now, give me the details on her favorites and your relationship history. I need to be briefed on the target."
The Mother and The Child
Airon pulled the car up to the D'Arven estate. He handed her a sleek, expensive-looking garment bag. "You have to wear this today, okay? I bought it earlier. And remember, your mother is home. Don't be rude."
Helena forced a polite expression. "Do you want to come inside and have some tea, Airon?"
"Okay," Airon conceded. "I'll help you carry these in and ensure you remember the plan."
As they entered the massive hall, they were met by the Stepmother, Madam Clara D'Arven, and the little step-brother, Ethan. Clara fixed her gaze on Helena's practical slippers and the department store bags Airon was holding.
"Helena, you're back," Clara said coolly. "Your father told me about your little accident. Are you... well?"
"Hello, Madam Mother," Helena said calmly, using the formal, respectful title. "I am recovering well, thank you for asking. I hope you and Ethan are doing well today."
Clara's composed facade cracked slightly, unsettled by the calm politeness. Before she could lash out, she remembered her purpose. She shoved Ethan forward slightly.
"Good. Since you are so 'well,' you can be useful," Clara sneered, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You will babysit Ethan until the driver takes you to the Thalorien manor. If he cries, or if you touch him with those commoner clothes, I will tell your father you are still unstable."
Clara didn't wait for a reply, retreating up the stairs, leaving the small, terrified boy standing alone.
Aika looked at the small, terrified boy. Well, that's not optimal. Forced babysitting. But a child is a controlled variable.
Helena maintained her calm, kind expression and slowly, deliberately, lowered herself onto one knee, keeping a safe distance. "Hello, Ethan," she said softly. "I'm not going to yell. I'm not going to be rude. Do you like reading? I just bought some new books. We can read one."
The boy, sensing no immediate danger, took a single, hesitant step forward.
Helena stood up, turning to Airon. "See? Polite. Minimal interaction. No rudeness."
"Unbelievable," Airon muttered, utterly bewildered by the shift in her social nature. He handed her the garment bag and his shopping bags. "I had some work scheduled. I'll come to pick you up at 8:00, so be ready at that time." He fixed her with a final, stern look. "And one more thing: you didn't call your mother, Madam Clara, you called her 'Aunt.' Next time, be sure about it."
Airon walked out without another word. Helena took a deep breath.
She then slowly sat down on her knees near Ethan. "So, Ethan, how old are you?" The boy remained silent. "Would you like a candy?"
Ethan gave a tiny, quick nod.
Aika went to the kitchen. The maids ignored her request for a meal. She found a sack of potatoes, boiled them quickly, mashed them with butter, and arranged some fresh, cut fruit in a bowl.
She helped him settle down comfortably. "Here you go, Ethan. You can eat that. Is there any food you might be allergic to?"
Ethan didn't answer the allergy question. He just tentatively picked up a strawberry and started eating it in tiny, serious bites. If he was allergic, and his mother was setting him up, she'd kill me. Aika's anxiety began to mount.
Suddenly, she felt small hands cup her cheeks, pulling her face gently forward. She looked down and saw Ethan looking directly at her. He had finished his strawberry and was beaming—a wide, open, and utterly guileless smile.
Then, the small boy spoke, his voice soft and clear: "Thank you."
Helena froze, utterly shocked. He can talk! A wave of warmth and immediate affection washed over her.
"Oh," she breathed out, her voice slightly weak. "Oh, you are so cute!"
He quickly jumped off the couch. "Lets go now, Helena!"
Aika quickly followed Ethan, a baffled smile still playing on her lips. Tag? In a mansion? And he called me Helena, not 'Aunt' or 'Miss D'Arven.'
Ethan ran across the garden terrace. "Catch me if you can, Helena!" he squealed, his voice ringing with pure, uninhibited joy.
Helena laughed—a genuine, light sound. This is nice. This is simple. No corporate jargon, no hostile fathers, just Level 1: Babysitting.
She chased him, her white sneakers suited for the activity. Ethan, convinced he was the master of the game, ran back toward her.
"You can't catch me!" he boasted.
Helena lunged gently, tagging his shoulder. "Tag! You're it!"
He tapped her arm fiercely in return, then grabbed her hand and started pulling her back towards the main house. "Come on, let's play inside!"
Helena let him lead her, feeling a strange, unexpected lightness. This was the first genuine, unforced interaction she had experienced. Maybe this life won't be entirely awful.
The Corporate Trap and The Nap
Ethan was happily nestled on the couch, immersed in the books. As the clock neared five, the Head Butler appeared and took Ethan away for his own dinner preparation. The chaos was gone, and Aika was alone.
She finished her mashed potatoes and retrieved her phone. She began researching "Helena D'Arven."
Scrolling through an older society magazine, Aika froze. The headline was glossy: "The Future Union: D'Arven Heiress Helena and Thalorien CEO Airon—A Match Made in Financial Heaven."
A wave of intellectual shock hit her. Engaged?
That's why he's helping! Aika realized, her jaw tightening. He wasn't just a co-conspirator; he was my fiancé! He had conveniently hidden this critical piece of information.
What a cunning, manipulative thing to do. Aika finished her potatoes, feeling a renewed, cold sense of isolation. But who cares? The rules had just become exponentially more complex and higher-stakes.
She continued her research until her eyes burned and the clock showed 7:30 PM.
I need a quick fifteen minutes, she thought. Just enough time to recharge before dealing with the gown and the Thalorien clan.
She leaned back against the plush headboard, intending only a brief mental break. Exhaustion, however, had the final say. Aika instantly fell into a deep, heavy sleep, surrounded by her scattered books and the empty mashed potato bowl.
The bedside clock read 8:05 PM when Airon Thalorien, punctual to the second, opened the door to Helena's room. He had expected to see Helena D'Arven, impeccably dressed.
Instead, the room was dimly lit. Helena was sound asleep, curled slightly on her side. Scattered on the duvet were business books, her phone, and a small, empty bowl. The luxurious gown he had purchased was still sealed in the garment bag by the door, completely forgotten. She was still wearing the shapeless cashmere coat.
A wave of sharp, frustrated panic hit him. The mandatory dinner starts in thirty minutes. The Chairman will be there.
Airon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Helena! Wake up!" he hissed, his voice low and urgent.