Indulge in story

In the second year of her marriage,Khloe accidentally tore her marriage certificate while tidying a drawer. She rushed to the courthouse to have it reissued,only for the clerk at the window to frown. "Miss Roswell,there's no record of your marriage in the system." "That's impossible.I've been married for two years!"Khloe handed over the torn document,her voice sharp with disbelief. The clerk checked three more times,then turned the screen toward her. "See?Nothing.And look here,the seal is crooked.This certificate is most likely a forgery." Khloe stumbled out of the courthouse,feeling utterly hollow and disoriented.The world seemed to blur around her when her phone rang. "Miss Roswell,hello.I'm the attorney for your late father's estate.Would you be available to come to Pearson Law Firm to review and sign the inheritance documents?" 'Another scam,'she thought,her finger hovering over the"end call"button. But the man continued,"Your mother's name was Adele Roswell.Twenty years ago,she left you at the gates of the Harden Housee.After a thorough investigation,we have confirmed that you are the sole biological child of Neil Morrison." The name hit her like a physical blow.Neil Morrison.The financial titan,the richest man in Goldmont City. Stunned into silence,Khloe stood frozen on the courthouse steps.Then,moving on autopilot,she rushed to the appointment. What she learned in lawyer's office was the most staggering revelation of her life:her biological father,Neil Morrison,had passed away the previous month.His estate—a vast empire of stocks,global real estate,and controlling interests in countless corporations—was valued in the billions. And she,the daughter who never knew him,was his one and only heir. Her head buzzed as if struck by lightning.The lawyer's next question cut through the fog. "May I ask about your marital status?Do you have children?" At once,her husband's face flashed in her mind. Her hand clenched around the broken certificate hidden in her bag.She gripped the pen tightly and said,"Give me two hours.I need to confirm something first." Leaving the law office,she headed straight for her husband's company. The door to Trey Fox's office was ajar.She had just reached out when a low,sultry voice drifted out,"Trey,we've been married five years.When will you finally make it public?" Khloe froze. She knew that voice all too well.It belonged to Angela Thompson,their former university advisor. Angela was six years older than Trey,but aside from that,she was flawless—stunningly beautiful,with a perfect figure,an untouchable goddess in the eyes of the student body.Back in their university,she had been universally adored,renowned as the most popular and beloved counselor on campus. Khloe held her breath.A second later,she heard her husband's familiar voice. "The company is about to go public,and I still need her for a few more things.Besides,my grandfather's will explicitly forbids you from being recognized by the Fox family.If we go public now,my grandmother will come after you.I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt." A roaring sound filled Khloe's ears.She clamped a hand over her mouth,choking back the sob rising in her throat. That marriage certificate—the one she'd painstakingly taped back together and cherished like a priceless treasure—was nothing but a lie.From the very beginning,she had been the fool,dancing alone in the dark. She fled the building,pulling out her phone the moment she hit the sidewalk.Her voice was unnervingly calm,as if all the emotion had been drained from her. "Mr.Bateman,I'll sign the inheritance papers now.And for the official record:I am unmarried and have no children.Every single asset is to come to me,and me alone." After finishing at the law firm,Khloe drove home.But her mind was elsewhere,and she failed to notice that the car in front of her had stopped.The jolt of the rear-end collision was minor,but it was enough to split her forehead open. At the hospital,after the ER doctor stitched up her forehead,a sudden,chilling thought sent her straight to the gynecology department. When she got the results,her heart turned to ash. "Are you saying...my uterus is perfectly healthy?" "That's correct.According to these scans,you're in excellent health." "I can get pre-gnant?" "Of course." "And it won't affect...my seeex life?" The elderly doctor,despite decades of experience,looked slightly taken aback."No,not at all." But before their wedding,Trey had waved a medical report in her face,claiming she had a severe uterine condition—that she could never have children,and that even normal inter-course could cause irreparable damage. "Even so,I'm going to marry you,"he had told her,his eyes full of tender resolve as he held her hands."In this lifetime,I choose you." For that promise,she had endured the Fox family's wrath. She had watched her father-in-law smash a teacup,roaring,"Bringing a barren woman into this family will be the end of our bloodline!" She had listened as her mother-in-law sobbed to relatives at family gatherings,"Trey is under a witch's spell." And every time,he would just smile and reassure her,"Don't listen to them.You have me,that's all that matters." So for two years,she endured her mother-in-law's endless insults—"a broken woman,""useless,can't even give my son a child"—each word a thorn festering under her skin,stealing countless nights of sleep.

In the second year of her marriage,Khloe accidentally tore her marriage certificate while tidying a drawer. She rushed to the courthouse to have it reissued,only for the clerk at the window to frown. "Miss Roswell,there's no record of your marriage in the system." "That's impossible.I've been married for two years!"Khloe handed over the torn document,her voice sharp with disbelief. The clerk checked three more times,then turned the screen toward her. "See?Nothing.And look here,the seal is crooked.This certificate is most likely a forgery." Khloe stumbled out of the courthouse,feeling utterly hollow and disoriented.The world seemed to blur around her when her phone rang. "Miss Roswell,hello.I'm the attorney for your late father's estate.Would you be available to come to Pearson Law Firm to review and sign the inheritance documents?" 'Another scam,'she thought,her finger hovering over the"end call"button. But the man continued,"Your mother's name was Adele Roswell.Twenty years ago,she left you at the gates of the Harden Housee.After a thorough investigation,we have confirmed that you are the sole biological child of Neil Morrison." The name hit her like a physical blow.Neil Morrison.The financial titan,the richest man in Goldmont City. Stunned into silence,Khloe stood frozen on the courthouse steps.Then,moving on autopilot,she rushed to the appointment. What she learned in lawyer's office was the most staggering revelation of her life:her biological father,Neil Morrison,had passed away the previous month.His estate—a vast empire of stocks,global real estate,and controlling interests in countless corporations—was valued in the billions. And she,the daughter who never knew him,was his one and only heir. Her head buzzed as if struck by lightning.The lawyer's next question cut through the fog. "May I ask about your marital status?Do you have children?" At once,her husband's face flashed in her mind. Her hand clenched around the broken certificate hidden in her bag.She gripped the pen tightly and said,"Give me two hours.I need to confirm something first." Leaving the law office,she headed straight for her husband's company. The door to Trey Fox's office was ajar.She had just reached out when a low,sultry voice drifted out,"Trey,we've been married five years.When will you finally make it public?" Khloe froze. She knew that voice all too well.It belonged to Angela Thompson,their former university advisor. Angela was six years older than Trey,but aside from that,she was flawless—stunningly beautiful,with a perfect figure,an untouchable goddess in the eyes of the student body.Back in their university,she had been universally adored,renowned as the most popular and beloved counselor on campus. Khloe held her breath.A second later,she heard her husband's familiar voice. "The company is about to go public,and I still need her for a few more things.Besides,my grandfather's will explicitly forbids you from being recognized by the Fox family.If we go public now,my grandmother will come after you.I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt." A roaring sound filled Khloe's ears.She clamped a hand over her mouth,choking back the sob rising in her throat. That marriage certificate—the one she'd painstakingly taped back together and cherished like a priceless treasure—was nothing but a lie.From the very beginning,she had been the fool,dancing alone in the dark. She fled the building,pulling out her phone the moment she hit the sidewalk.Her voice was unnervingly calm,as if all the emotion had been drained from her. "Mr.Bateman,I'll sign the inheritance papers now.And for the official record:I am unmarried and have no children.Every single asset is to come to me,and me alone." After finishing at the law firm,Khloe drove home.But her mind was elsewhere,and she failed to notice that the car in front of her had stopped.The jolt of the rear-end collision was minor,but it was enough to split her forehead open. At the hospital,after the ER doctor stitched up her forehead,a sudden,chilling thought sent her straight to the gynecology department. When she got the results,her heart turned to ash. "Are you saying...my uterus is perfectly healthy?" "That's correct.According to these scans,you're in excellent health." "I can get pre-gnant?" "Of course." "And it won't affect...my seeex life?" The elderly doctor,despite decades of experience,looked slightly taken aback."No,not at all." But before their wedding,Trey had waved a medical report in her face,claiming she had a severe uterine condition—that she could never have children,and that even normal inter-course could cause irreparable damage. "Even so,I'm going to marry you,"he had told her,his eyes full of tender resolve as he held her hands."In this lifetime,I choose you." For that promise,she had endured the Fox family's wrath. She had watched her father-in-law smash a teacup,roaring,"Bringing a barren woman into this family will be the end of our bloodline!" She had listened as her mother-in-law sobbed to relatives at family gatherings,"Trey is under a witch's spell." And every time,he would just smile and reassure her,"Don't listen to them.You have me,that's all that matters." So for two years,she endured her mother-in-law's endless insults—"a broken woman,""useless,can't even give my son a child"—each word a thorn festering under her skin,stealing countless nights of sleep.

After three years of a sexless contract marriage, her husband finally asked for a divorce. She agreed on one condition only: thirty nights of unprotected $ex before she disappeared from his life. "I'm getting married again," Daven said. "And I won’t repeat myself, nor will I be asking for your permission." He set his coffee cup down abruptly, ending breakfast, he hadn't even touched. Althea stood frozen near the long dining table topped with white marble. Her fingers, still holding the spatula, began to tremble. "With Vanessa?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Daven didn’t look at her. He simply took a shallow breath before replying coldly, “Yes. Who else?” Her husband, Daven Callister, had never loved her. His heart belonged entirely to Vanessa Blake. In truth, their marriage had always been nothing more than an obstacle to his love story. But what could Althea do when the woman who arranged the marriage had been so kind to her? Evelyn Callister—Daven’s grandmother. Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. She had surrendered, despite the grief that still haunted her from losing her mother. But Evelyn had refused to let it end there. She demanded that her beloved grandson, Daven—the man responsible for Althea’s mother’s death—marry her as a form of atonement. Eve saw Althea as a lonely girl with no one else in the world. Daven had only agreed because he was cornered by his grandmother’s wishes. He had no choice but to comply. But now, with Evelyn Callister gone—taken by illness two weeks ago—Daven finally saw a chance to escape a marriage he’d never wanted. There was no reason to stay. Not anymore. A faint, almost invisible smile appeared on Althea’s lips—not from joy, but from bitter resignation. She turned off the stove and gently set the spatula down. “I won’t stand in your way,” she said at last. Her voice was soft—so soft it barely reached across the wide room. “We both know I never had a place in your heart.” Daven remained silent. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t correct her either. But there was the slightest flicker of disturbance in his gaze as Althea walked slowly toward him. For a moment, he thought she might cry, beg, or show just enough sorrow to make him feel guilty. But she didn’t. Althea stood tall. Her hands clenched lightly at the sides of her simple dress. Her long black hair flowed freely down her back, a quiet contrast to the calm strength in her posture. Her warm, light brown eyes now stared at him—blank, unreadable. At the man who had always been a stranger beneath the same roof. Althea was beautiful, in her quiet way. But that beauty had never stirred anything in Daven. To him, Althea was nothing more than a disruption—an outsider forced into his life. And now that he had the chance to remove her, Daven intended to do exactly that. “Give me one month of your time,” Althea said calmly. “Just one month ... Let me be your wife for real.” Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” “I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife. Not just some stranger living under your roof.” Silence fell. Then a dismissive laugh escaped Daven’s lips. He even wiped the corner of his eye, amused at how absurd her request sounded. What on earth was she thinking? “You’re serious?” he asked, his voice cold, laced with disbelief. “This isn’t some cheap soap opera, Althea.” She gave a small nod. “I’m not asking for your love. Who am I to ask for something like that?” she said with a bitter laugh. “All I’m asking is to be treated properly—as your wife. Have dinner with me. Exchange a few words with me every day. Show me a little affection, even if it’s fake.” She swallowed hard, her hands clenched into fists to keep herself steady. “After that, I’ll Walk away quietly. You’ll be free to marry anyone you want.” Daven squinted, unsure whether to laugh harder or feel irritated. Yet beneath his disbelief, something in her words struck a nerve. A simple request—so painfully simple, it piqued his curiosity. What is Althea's real purpose? “Why not ask for something more reasonable?” Althea fell silent. Looking away from Daven was difficult when those midnight-dark eyes were fixed on hers, commanding her not to break eye contact—not until he’d heard everything she had to say. “If it’s money you want, just say it. I’ll give it to you.” “No,” she said firmly, without hesitation. Her resolve had already been sealed. There was no turning back now. “You really don’t know how to give up, do you?” Daven sneered. “I already have, Daven,” Althea replied softly. “But I just want one memory to keep for the rest of my life. Before I walk away from you for good.” Neither of them spoke after that. This time, Daven’s gaze wasn’t as sharp. He looked at the woman before him with an unreadable expression. Was it confusion? Annoyance? Or... curiosity? “I’m not promising to be nice,” he finally said. “I never expected you to change,” Althea answered, her calmness more shattering than tears ever could be. And with that, an unspoken agreement was formed. One month. Thirty days for Althea to live as the wife of Daven Callister. A reality that should have existed a year ago—ever since their wedding day. But to Daven, she’d always been nothing more than an intruder. Now, before everything ended, Althea could at least be grateful—Daven hadn’t rejected her request. “Only one month, Althea,” Daven warned. “After that, you disappear from my sight.” “I understand exactly what I’m asking for, Daven. You don’t have to worry.” He scoffed, the corner of his lips curling with disdain. “And if you expect more than what I’m willing to give, I won’t hesitate to throw you out.” Althea nodded obediently. “Don’t you dare break your promise, Althea.” His gaze turned sharp again, piercing. “If you do, don’t blame me for destroying your life.” -- “Are you out of your mind?” Catherine Callister—more commonly known as Kate—snapped, her shrill voice shattering the silence of the back garden. “How dare you make such a shameless request?” Kate continued, her voice seething with rage. Her eyes blazed. “You’re well aware my son is about to marry Vanessa, aren’t you? Of course you know that—and yet you still have the audacity to beg for Daven’s attention?” Althea gave a faint smile, about to speak—but Kate cut her off sharply, clearly unwilling to hear a single word in return. “You look like some pathetic little love-starved beggar.” “Yes, I’m nothing more than a girl with nothing—no wealth, no power, no name. But I still have my dignity, Mrs. Callister. And all I want is to hold on to that.” Althea’s words were met with a scornful scoff from Kate. The older woman looked at her daughter-in-law with disbelief, clearly unable to comprehend the way her mind worked. “You can keep your dignity, Althea. But at the very least, you should know your place in this house.” “I’m fully aware of that, Mrs. Callister,” Althea replied calmly. Kate opened her mouth to retort again, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her. Daven appeared from behind the glass doors of the house, his suit still perfectly in place. The weariness from a long day’s work was evident on his face. He glanced briefly between the two women before speaking in a flat tone, “Is there a problem?” Kate turned to him, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Of course, there’s a problem. Your precious wife is trying to sabotage your wedding with Vanessa. She made an absurd request, and you—” she pointed a manicured finger at him, “—you agreed to it? I honestly don’t understand what you were thinking, Dave!” Daven didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on Althea. She didn’t say a word, but he knew she wouldn’t deny it. She wasn’t like the rest of the people in this house, hiding their motives behind masks. “She only asked for my time, Mother. Just one month,” Daven said at last. “And I agreed. I’ve already spoken to Vanessa and explained everything. She’s willing to give me that time. Our love has already stood the test of time, Mother. It’s been a year since I married this woman, and Vanessa still waited for me. She didn’t mind giving me thirty more days.” Kate could hardly believe what she was hearing. She buried her face in her hands in sheer frustration. But there was nothing more she could do. She had no choice but to go along with whatever her son had decided. “Just make sure this shameless woman is out of the Callister family’s life when the month is over, Daven. I don’t want my beloved daughter-in-law waiting any longer.” “Yes,” Daven replied curtly. Althea, who had been standing quietly between them, spoke again. “I know exactly where I stand. And I will leave once my time is up. But for now... I just want to spend what’s left in peace. That’s all I ask.” Kate hissed under her breath, then turned away sharply. “I will never see you as part of this family,” she spat before disappearing down the hallway, her footsteps sharp and swift—like every word she had just hurled. Althea let out a long breath once the woman’s figure vanished from sight. Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them beneath the folds of her dress. Only one figure remained, still standing there, watching her with that same cold stare—like she was nothing more than a discarded object. “I didn’t realize my wife was so stubborn,” Daven mocked. “Do you want to be my wife that badly?” He let out a scoffing chuckle, laced with disdain. She took a step back, instinctively. “It’s not like that—” “Oh? Then what is it?” he snapped. “You begged for this. You practically signed yourself up to be mine—for a month.” His voice was low, dangerously calm. He reached out, fingers brushing her chin—not tenderly, but not cruelly either. Just enough to force her gaze upward. “Tomorrow night,” he said, gaze locked on hers, “I’ll come home not as the man you married on paper—but as the husband you insisted, I become.” Althea’s breath hitched. Her hands curled into fists beside her dress, but she didn’t look away. “I hope you’re ready,” Daven added, pulling back just slightly. “Because I won’t stop to ask if you’ve changed your mind.” It would be a lie to say Althea wasn’t hurt. It would be hypocritical to say she wasn’t sad or disappointed. But... what could she possibly do to stop any of this? Even the man she had once thought she could rely on turned out to be the very first to break her heart. Althea wasn’t blind. She could clearly see how Daven made no effort to hide his relationship with his lover. And yet, in front of his grandmother, Daven wore the perfect mask of a loving, attentive husband. “God,” she whispered, eyes shut tight as the night deepened around her. Tomorrow was another day she had to face. “Please, have mercy on me. Just a little kindness, Lord. Please... grant me this one thing.” When Althea had told him what she wanted, she never imagined Daven would agree. That was why she couldn't afford to waste this—perhaps her only—chance. A child. Althea wanted a child. A companion in the years to come. Someone she could love without conditions. Someone who would call her “Mama”—even if that was the only warm word she would ever hear in her life. And she knew... this might be her one and only opportunity. She had no one left in the world. She wouldn’t ask for anything from Daven. In fact, she had already planned to disappear—to live quietly somewhere far away with her child. Somewhere Daven would never come. Because by then, he would surely be busy living his perfect life with the woman he truly loved. That was her wish. No matter how many people might call it foolish or insane, she still hoped. That was why, that morning, Althea stood in front of the tall mirror in her private room. Her small fingers adjusted the soft fringe of her newly trimmed bangs. A little hesitant, but she smiled at her own reflection. Her face had been gently made up—not overly glamorous, but just enough to highlight a beauty she rarely revealed. Today, she wanted to look beautiful. Althea wore a simple nude-colored dress that delicately embraced her graceful figure. She smiled softly as her hand brushed the fabric. This morning, she planned to make Daven a special breakfast. “I’m ready,” she whispered to herself. “If only Daven would hug me in the kitchen—” Ugh! A flush of warmth rushed to her cheeks. A flurry of romantic novels she had once read flashed through her mind—vivid with their dreamy tales of husband and wife, wrapped in affection, making love in every corner of the house, passion igniting wherever they touched. “How naive can you be, Althea?” she scoffed at herself. “Daven would never do such a thing.” But… wasn’t hope often found nestled above the impossible? Sadly, that fragile hope shattered the moment the doorbell rang downstairs—followed by the unmistakable sound of heels and a sharp, mocking laugh. “Who could that be?” Althea slowly descended the stairs. The subtle smile she had practiced in front of the mirror began to fade, replaced by a calm yet guarded expression. In the living room, a woman sat with absolute ease. She wore a striking maroon jumpsuit and gleaming high heels. Vanessa Blake. Arrogant. Beautiful. And fully aware of the power of her presence. Her face was exactly as it appeared on television screens and countless advertisements. In truth, Althea had to admit—Vanessa looked like a goddess who descended to Earth. Unfortunately... her smile and manners were said otherwise. Especially when directed at Althea. “Oh?” Vanessa turned, her gaze sweeping over Althea from head to toe. Her smirk tilted upward with disdain. “So, you do know how to dress up, after all.” Althea remained poised. “Is there something I can help you with, Miss Vanessa?” “Oh, straight to the point, are we?” Vanessa rose to her feet, lightly patting the designer bag on her lap. “Aren’t you going to offer me anything? A drink, maybe?” She swept her long hair over one shoulder with practiced ease. “I’d think you’d have the decency to know your place. In this house, you’re the one most suited to serving guests. Your face certainly fits the part, Althea.” Althea chose to smile. “I’m not here for small talk,” Vanessa sneered. “I just dropped by. I wanted to see for myself what my fiancé is doing with a woman who doesn’t know her place. I thought you were bluffing when you asked Daven for time, but now I see—you’ve really lost your mind.” “I’m still capable of thinking rationally, Miss Vanessa.” Vanessa let out a delighted, mocking laugh. “Rational? Dressed like this? Hoping to seduce Daven?” She stepped forward, eyes blazing. “You’re nothing but a cheap woman!” Before Vanessa could grab at her dress, Althea moved first. Her hand shot out, clutching Vanessa’s wrist in a firm grip—just enough to make her stop. “I don’t care if you think I’m cheap, Miss Vanessa. But as of now, I am still Daven Callister’s wife.” Her gaze didn’t waver. Neither did her grip. “Watch your boundaries, you bitch!” Vanessa snarled. But then she laughed—quietly at first, the sound sharp and brittle like shattered glass. “Oh, sweetheart… that title—‘Daven Callister’s wife’—only exists on paper. Everyone knows that.” “And everyone also knows your wedding hasn’t happened yet,” Althea replied softly but clearly. “So until that day comes, I am still his wife. And I will carry out that role properly, Miss Vanessa.” Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “You really think you can touch him? That you can make him sleep with you? You are truly pathetic.” “I’m not expecting anything,” Althea said, lifting her chin ever so slightly. “You don’t have to feel threatened by all this, do you? After all, hasn’t it already been decided who the real winner is?” She released her grip and stepped back. She didn’t want to touch the woman Daven loved any longer than necessary. If it weren’t for the sheer strength of her resolve, Althea might have been in tears already just from facing Vanessa this morning. Vanessa rubbed the wrist Althea had held. That damn woman! How dare she? She would not let this slide. Althea would pay for it—every bit. “You know, Althea, I’ve always wondered…” Vanessa said slowly, her words slicing like daggers, “why Daven ever agreed to marry you. You’re nobody. No prestigious background, no powerful connections, not even a name worth mentioning.” If those words had come from Kate Callister, her mother-in-law, Althea might’ve been able to accept them. But coming from Vanessa—an outsider who, unfortunately, was valued like family within the Callister circle—they stung worse than ever. She could say anything to Althea, and no one would ever stop her. Althea said nothing, standing there with forced calm. She knew Vanessa was fishing—looking for any crack in her armor to strike. And God, how hard she had to fight not to let the tears fall. “I used to think Daven married you out of pity. But now, I think… maybe he’s finally realized just how greedy you really are. You act quiet, pretend to be all innocent—but behind that fake purity, you’re sly, aren’t you?” "That’s enough, Miss Vanessa," Althea said quietly. "If you came here just to insult me, I won’t entertain it. I have no intention of humiliating anyone." "Humiliate?" Vanessa scoffed with a mocking laugh. "Sweetheart, you’ve already humiliated yourself just by dressing like that. What were you thinking? Would that Daven see you and suddenly fall in love? That he’d leave me for you?" "I never expected that," Althea replied calmly, her voice steady. "I’m simply fulfilling my role, because that’s the only thing I can do right now." "Fulfilling your role?" Vanessa sneered. "You sound like a grieving widow. It’s tragic, really. But even more pitiful since your husband is very much alive… and in love with someone else." Althea bit her lower lip slowly. She lowered her head, inhaling deeply. She would not cry. Not in front of Vanessa. But before she could say a word, footsteps echoed from the upper floor. Daven. He had just emerged from his room, wearing a gray shirt and tailored pants. His appearance was relaxed, but the sharpness in his eyes immediately caught the scene unfolding at the bottom of the stairs—Vanessa standing far too close to Althea, whose face looked pale as if she was holding something back. Before he could speak, another voice cut through the tension. "What’s going on here? Why all the noise so early in the morning?" Kate Callister’s sharp tone filled the room as she descended the stairs, flanked by her two daughters—Karina and Felicia—both of whom looked at Althea with the same disdain etched on their mother’s face. Vanessa wasted no time stepping into her self-appointed role. "Aunt Kate… I just came to express my concern. Look at her—Althea dressed like this just to get Daven’s attention. I’m worried… she may be forgetting her place." "Oh, for heaven’s sake," Kate eyed Althea from head to toe. "What are you thinking, wearing something like that, Althea? Where’s your sense of decency?" "I haven’t done anything inappropriate by wearing this. I’m used to dressing like this at home," Althea responded softly, still trying to remain polite. Karina let out a mocking giggle. "Goodness, you’ve only lived in this house for a year and already you’re acting like you own the place?" And it wasn’t just Siena. Felicia chimed in as well. "This woman is getting bolder by the day!" she snapped, shoving Althea’s shoulder hard enough to make her stumble, nearly falling. "Wake up, Althea! You don’t belong here! You’re completely out of line!" "Enough!" Daven’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, making everyone turn toward him. "Daven, you’re not planning to defend her, are you?" Karina asked, shocked. He sighed, clearly exhausted. "I’m not defending anyone. I just want this morning to go on without any of your theatrics. I already have enough on my plate with work." Vanessa pouted, lips forming a sulky curve. "I’ll take that as a defense for her, darling." Daven exhaled softly. "That could never happen." He stepped closer to Vanessa, gently brushing her flowing hair back with his hand, completely ignoring the sadness clouding Althea’s gaze just a few feet away. Did Daven care? Not at all. "I’m asking all of you to end this argument. I need peace and quiet." Daven’s tone was flat, devoid of emotion, but firm enough to silence everyone in the room. Kate scoffed in irritation. "Oh, for heaven’s sake, fine. I’ll have breakfast elsewhere." She turned on her heel and walked away without waiting for a response, followed closely by Karina and Felicia—both still shooting scornful looks at Althea as they passed. Vanessa remained where she was, glaring at Althea with thinly veiled rage before finally storming off, her footsteps brisk with irritation. Once the four of them disappeared from the living room, silence fell. Daven rubbed his face slowly, looking completely exhausted. "Whatever is going on between you all, don’t make it my problem this morning." Althea, who had been standing calmly despite the turmoil tearing through her heart, finally found the courage to look up at her husband. Her voice was soft, but steady. "Then, please allow me to prepare your breakfast. It’ll only take five minutes. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?" Daven didn’t respond immediately. He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a brief nod. "Fine. Just don’t waste my time." Althea gave a slight nod and quietly turned toward the kitchen. Five minutes later, she returned carrying a tray with neatly arranged toast, a sunny-side-up egg, and a steaming cup of coffee—even the napkin had been folded to perfection. Daven was already seated at the dining table, scrolling through documents on his tablet. "Here," Althea said, setting the tray down in front of him. "I know it’s simple, but... I hope it helps you start your day right." Daven glanced at the food for a second, then began to eat without saying much. Althea pulled out a chair and sat across from him, folding her hands on her lap. Her lips parted, hesitant at first, but then she spoke up again. "You haven’t forgotten your promise, have you?" she asked gently. "I just wanted to remind you." Daven set down his fork and knife, meeting her gaze with a neutral expression. "No." Althea gave a small nod. "Then I’ll do my part as your wife—as I should. I’ll prepare your breakfast, make sure you don’t forget any important documents for work," she said with a faint smile, "and everything else a married couple might normally do." Daven sighed and briefly massaged his temples. "I don’t want any unnecessary drama. You know the limits, Althea. Don’t make me regret agreeing to this." "I won’t make you regret it," Althea replied, steadying herself. Her brown eyes locked onto his without hesitation. "Just one thing this morning... I only want to ask for one thing." Daven returned her gaze, disinterested. "What is it?" "Could you give me... a morning kiss?" ** "Are you ... lost your mind?" Althea understood perfectly why her best friend reacted that way, her face frozen in disbelief. She had told Lydia everything—though without shedding a single tear, Lydia knew just how deep the pain and disappointment ran. Not all pain needed tears to be felt. Sometimes, the wound cut so deeply that even tears no longer had the strength to fall. "You can say whatever you want," Althea replied with a faint smile. "But I think this is the only chance life has given me." "You have me, Althea. You’re not alone in this world," Lydia snapped, frustrated. "I’ve told you so many times, the Callister family is no place for someone like you. You’re too kind… too gentle to be forced to survive among them." Althea stared at her now-lukewarm cup of tea. Her hands still wrapped around it, as if whatever warmth remained could calm the storm inside her chest. "I know," she whispered, barely audible. "If I could turn back time, I would never have wanted to be part of their family." A bitter smile curved her lips, one meant only for herself—for the life that felt like an endless tidal wave crashing repeatedly. Lydia let out a long sigh, leaning closer toward Althea, who sat slumped in defeat. "Why are you choosing to wait a whole month? In the end, Daven’s still going to divorce you, isn’t he?" Althea nodded slowly. "Like I said before… who knows? Maybe sometime within that month, Daven might spend the night with me." She gave a pained smile, her head bowing lower. "My life is pathetic, isn’t it?" Silence stretched between them. "But who knows," Althea said softly. "Maybe God will take pity on me. Maybe I’ll get pregnant." "Aren’t you afraid?" Lydia asked cautiously. "What if Daven finds out someday?" "Why should I be afraid? It’s just a night like the ones he spends with other women, isn’t it? I can give him plenty of reasons. I won’t ask anything from him. There won’t be a Callister name tied to me—or my child—ever again." Lydia exhaled heavily. The despair Althea carried wasn’t baseless. If this was what Althea wanted, then there was nothing Lydia could do but stand by her. "And you’re really sure you want to sell the house?" "Yes," Althea answered without hesitation. Lydia looked at her, a mix of admiration and sorrow in her eyes. "But that house—it was your mother’s. You two made so many memories there." Althea paused for a moment, then offered a faint, wistful smile. "I don’t want to leave any trace of myself in this city, Lydia. I’ve made up my mind. I’m truly leaving." ** After organizing a few shelves and small cabinets in the bedroom, Althea dozed off from sheer exhaustion. Some of her favorite books were neatly packed into boxes. She’d decided it was best to be ready—just in case things didn’t go the way she hoped. “Ugh,” Althea groaned, her body aching in a few spots. Maybe she’d slept in a weird position? Who knew. Either way, the discomfort stirred her awake. Her throat felt dry too. She grabbed a light robe and quietly padded out of the room toward the kitchen. Each step down the stairs was careful and slow. The house was completely silent, almost eerily so. Even the ticking of the wall clock sounded louder than usual. But as she stepped into the dining area, she froze. The soft glow from the kitchen light was on. And he was there—Daven. Althea stood still for a few seconds, watching him in silence as he reached into the fridge. His hair was slightly tousled, his suit jacket gone, leaving only a white shirt with the sleeves rolling up. He looked tired—truly worn out. The sharpness in his eyes had dulled into something softer, heavier. “Daven?” Her voice was quiet, uncertain, as if needing confirmation that it was really him. He glanced over. “You’re still wake up?” “I woke up thirsty.” Daven gave a small nod, then shut the fridge door. “You just got home?” “Yeah,” he murmured, letting out a long sigh. Althea bit her lip, then reached for a glass from the rack and filled it with cold water. She drank half of it before glancing back at him. “Are you hungry?” He didn’t answer immediately. “I can make you something if you don’t mind waiting.” “…Sure. Go ahead. I’ll wait.” Althea gave a small nod, hiding the faint smile tugging at her lips as she turned toward the stove. She chose something simple—cheese omelet with parsley and toast. Easy to make, filling enough to ease an empty stomach. Daven took a seat at the table near the kitchen while the aroma of melting cheese slowly filled the air. His eyes didn’t leave her—not once. He watched Althea move about the kitchen, quick and precise, like she belonged there. Every motion was smooth, effortless. Like this was her space. Like she found comfort in it. “You’re pretty skilled,” Daven said, breaking the silence. Althea looked over her shoulder, blinking. “Skilled?” “In the kitchen.” A soft laugh escaped her, half-surprised. “I’ve had some practice,” she replied, turning back to the stove. Althea laughed softly. “I enjoy cooking. It makes me happy to turn simple ingredients into something delicious—especially when someone else enjoys it too.” Ah. She’d forgotten—Daven didn’t like it when she talked too much. “Sorry, Daven,” she muttered quickly, cutting herself off. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked, smirking. “Keep talking, if you want to.” “Um... what about the merger talks with the Asian company yesterday?” she asked suddenly, without turning to him. “Was a decision made?” Daven raised an eyebrow slightly. “You’ve been keeping up with the news, haven’t you?” Althea just shrugged. The food was ready, and she placed the plate in front of him. “Enjoy.” “The problem wasn’t the merger proposal,” Daven said, slicing into the omelet. “It’s the board. They’re too conservative.” He took a slow bite. The aroma alone had already awakened his appetite, and now, with the first taste, it was clear—this was exactly what he needed. “This is good, Althea. You really do know how to cook.” A bright smile lit up her face. “Thanks for the compliment.” She poured him a glass of water and set it on the table. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to win them over.” Daven took another bite. “Maybe.” After a few more mouthfuls, he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly. “It’s better than I expected.” “The omelet?” “Mhm. Or maybe I was just starving.” Althea chuckled quietly, then began gathering the dirty dishes. She stood, ready to clean up—but Daven spoke again. “Sit with me. Just a little longer.” She obeyed without question. Silence returned, comfortable yet thick with something unspoken. Then, Daven turned his head slightly, studying her with a gaze that cut deeper than before. “I’m curious,” he said. “Do you really understand what it means to ask me to make you my wife—for real?” Althea swallowed hard, her nerves prickling, but she knew she couldn’t avoid the question. “Yes. You even warned me to be ready—whether that meant spreading my legs or playing the role of the obedient wife.” Daven let out a short breath, followed by a quiet laugh—part disbelief, part something else she couldn’t quite name. “So you’re really offering yourself just like that?” She held his gaze, steady and unflinching. “If you see it as desperation or a lack of pride… I won’t argue. Because it is my choice. My decision.” A taut silence stretched between them—until Daven suddenly moved. His large hand gripped Althea’s face—not harshly, but not gently either. Just enough to make her eyes widen in stunned disbelief. His breath hit her skin, hot and close—and then the kiss landed like a storm. Deep. Rough. Unyielding. It crashed into her like a wave, giving no space, no hesitation. Althea gasped, her body jolting from the sheer intensity. Daven kissed her like he was trying to burn away every trace of doubt. There was no tenderness in it, none—as if to remind her that this was what she had asked for. Not him. It hurt. God, it hurt. But Althea forced herself to meet him halfway. Her fingers clutched the edge of the chair, trying to steady herself as her breath caught in her throat. Only when Daven pulled back slightly—just enough to let her breathe—did she finally drag air back into her lungs, shaky and uneven. But before she could gather her thoughts, his voice dropped low, brushing against her ear like a warning wrapped in fire. “Tonight… will be a very long night for you, Althea.” It would be a lie to say Althea wasn’t nervous. She’d only gotten up to grab a glass of water. Then she ended up making a light dinner because Daven looked exhausted and hungry. And now… now she was here. In Daven’s bedroom. A room she had never stepped in before. “God, how did I end up this nervous?” she cursed inwardly. But no matter how she tried to play it down, tonight was the night. The night she had longed for. The night she would finally spend with Daven—not just as the woman living in his house, but as his wife. A night that should’ve been theirs a year ago. “Don’t do anything stupid, Althea,” she whispered to herself. “Just keep up with him. You can do this.” She squeezed the fabric of her sleepwear tightly in her fists. “Think of all those romantic novels you’ve read. You’ve got this.” When she’d first entered Daven’s room, she was met with dim lighting and a quiet, minimalist space. Shades of grey and white covered every surface, neat and impersonal, like a hotel suite. Daven had asked her to wait—he wanted to take a shower. Now, only the ticking clock kept her company, along with the faint sound of water from the bathroom. But when that sound finally stopped… her heart skipped wildly in her chest. He was done. “Stay calm. Don’t panic. Just breathe,” she reminded herself, steadying her nerves. Althea stood by the window, not daring to sit on his perfectly made bed. Her back faced the light, casting her in silhouette. The soft cotton of her sleepwear clung gently to her frame, making her appear smaller, more delicate than usual. Daven walked toward her. “You really waited for me,” he said with a small laugh. Honestly, he’d half expected her to run away. But no—Althea had meant what she said. “You told me to wait, didn’t you?” she replied, turning around—only to freeze in surprise. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of shorts, a towel slung over his shoulder. Althea didn’t know what to do next. Daven’s broad, sculpted back had been wrecking her focus since the moment he sat down. Maybe she should just leave—quickly—before this went any further. Because of that question he asked earlier? It had sounded an awful lot like a lie. A beautifully packaged excuse with no real intention behind it. "Come here," Daven said suddenly, turning around to face her. Althea froze, her gaze falling to the floor as her cheeks flushed crimson. Why was she blushing? Embarrassed, maybe? God—was she really acting like some innocent teenager facing a man for the first time? Or maybe... The stiff way she stood there made Daven chuckle under his breath. The sound made Althea lift her head, confused. “You’re laughing at me?” “What else?” he said with a teasing smirk, his eyes sharp and dark as the midnight sky, trained solely on her. “You’ve been begging me for this, haven’t you? Going on and on about our agreement since yesterday…” His tone was intentionally laced with provocation, each word a calculated push. He took a step forward. “And now that I ask you to come closer, you hesitate?” “I’m not hesitating,” she snapped, lifting her chin. “I told you—I want tonight to be the night we’re husband and wife. For real.” Daven didn’t stop approaching. Step by step, he backed her up until her spine hit the wall with a soft thud. “Ugh,” Althea let out, startled, but she had nowhere else to go. “This is my first time, Daven,” she admitted, her voice quiet, trembling not just from nerves—but honesty. She hoped he’d ease up on the pressure, even just a little. Because right now, she was afraid. Daven said nothing. His eyes—sharp and unreadable—narrowed slightly as his hand reached up to gently cup her chin, tilting her face to meet his. “You’re scared?” “No.” She swallowed hard but didn’t look away. “What hurts more is when you ignore me. Like I don’t exist.” Daven’s voice was barely audible. “Stubborn woman.” “You should’ve figured that out the day we got married.” He stepped in even closer. This time, his fingers brushed against her cheek—soft, cool skin that radiated heat beneath his touch. Whether it was from nervousness or the cold air in the room, he couldn’t tell. He kept staring at her, his thumb drawing idle circles against her skin, as if something inside him was warring with reason. He exhaled slowly—was it frustrating? Or something deeper unraveling inside him? “Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered. “Like what?” Althea whispered. She could sense it—he was the one on the verge of retreating. And that realization pushed her to do something bold, maybe reckless. Her trembling hand reached out, gently tracing the lines of his chest. “This is your final warning, Althea,” Daven said, his voice tight, full of strain. Like a man on the edge of restraint. “I’m not backing down, Dav. I’ve already thrown away every shred of pride I had just to stand here in front of you and ask for this…” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Tell me something—am I that unattractive to you? Is that why you keep rejecting me?” “Damn it.” He seized both her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. The other returned to her face, his grip firm but not cruel, anchoring her there as his mouth crashed onto hers—rough, sudden, desperate. His tongue forced its way past her lips, leaving her no time to catch her breath. “I don’t know if I’m going to hurt you or not,” he growled between kisses, “but this is your choice. You didn’t walk away.” “D-Do whatever you want, Dav.” It took everything she had to get the words out. Keeping up with Daven felt like being swept into a current she had no hope of escaping. But she didn’t want to. He sucked in a breath, eyes blazing. “You’re driving me insane tonight, Althea.” She met his gaze, her voice steady even as her heart raced. “Then maybe the only thing left to do... is go insane together.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only the sound of their breathing filled the air, heavy and uneven, mingling in the silence like a delicate thread threatening to snap. Althea’s cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself. But to Daven, she had never looked more captivating—like something fragile wrapped in fire, burning softly yet refusing to be extinguished. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. And maybe that was why, without a word, he swept her into his arms in a swift motion and carried her toward the bed. Every kiss he gave her was returned with soft gasps and breathless whimpers. His touch left trails of warmth across her skin, branding her in ways that made her tremble. There was something about the way she looked at him—those wide amber eyes filled with vulnerability and longing—that made Daven falter for the briefest second. He didn’t understand what he felt... only that he didn’t want to let her go. When he leaned in to press another kiss onto her lips, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached for him with trembling hands, her touch hesitant but sincere. "You’re really not backing down," Daven murmured, his voice low, almost disbelieving. "Wasn’t that what you asked for?" she replied softly, her breath brushing against his lips. He paused—just long enough to give her one last chance to walk away. "This is your last warning, Althea," he said, his forehead pressed against her. "Once I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop." Althea’s hands slid up to his shoulders, her fingers digging in just slightly as she whispered, “Then don’t stop. Let this night be mine, Daven. Just this once.” There was a flicker in his eyes—something between restraint and surrender—before he leaned in again, this time more gently. His kiss was slower, deeper, and laced with the kind of unspoken emotion neither of them could name. As their bodies tangled beneath the dim glow of the room, Daven moved with a mixture of intensity and care, as though he was memorizing every inch of her. Althea gave herself over to the moment, not out of recklessness, but because she wanted to remember this night—not with regret, but with quiet gratitude. She wasn’t asking him to love her. She wasn’t hoping he would change. All she wanted... was to carry a memory that mattered. Something real. Something hers. Please, God, she prayed silently, let this be the one night I never have to forget. ... “Mm… why is it hurt so much?” Althea mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyelids fluttered open as a soft morning light filtered in, helping her vision adjust. Wait… Her senses scrambled to make sense of it all—the feel of the comforter, the plushness of the mattress, and then... that faint, unmistakably masculine scent. Familiar. Warm. Clean. Daven Callister. Her face flushed red as memories of last night rushed back—those naked, intimate moments, their sweaty skin pressed together… “You’re awake?” His voice sent a jolt down her spine. Althea turned sharply toward the source. There he was—sitting casually on a sofa just a few feet away from the bed. Daven took off his glasses and set down his work tablet, then rose and walked toward her. She didn’t move. Her thoughts were still catching up, still trying to process the fact that they actually did it. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice tight. Already slipping on his blazer, Daven glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. “Just past seven.” “Oh my God!” she gasped, panic spiking again. “I overslept!” Daven raised an eyebrow. “So? Is that a problem?” She threw the covers aside in a flurry, frantically searching for something. He watched her curiously. Was this how she always woke up? “I-I haven't even made you breakfast.” she murmured, eyes lowered in embarrassment."Sorry, I just-" “It’s fine,” he cut her off gently, now standing right beside the bed. Her face was completely bare, her soft and unguarded. A few stray strands of hair framed her cheeks. Disheveled, but in a way that made her look effortlessly beautiful. Was this what Althea looked like when she first woke up? Daven had never seen her like this before. It was… unexpectedly endearing. “I should be the one apologizing,” he added, voice lower now. “I… didn't let you rest last nig—” "It’s alright, I’m fine!" Althea almost shoved her face into her pillow. How could Daven say such things? She didn’t know how to face him anymore. For a while, neither spoke. In that rare moment of quiet and warmth, time seemed to slowly pass by. And something between them seemed to quietly change. Althea knew she couldn’t stay here much longer. She finally cleared her throat and said softly, “I should head back to my room. If you don’t mind waiting a little, I’ll prepare breakfast quickly.” “I’ll wait,” Daven replied without hesitation. “I’ve still got some work to finish, anyway.” Althea nodded. “Alright then.” But just as she stepped toward the door, the sharp clack of high heels echoed from the hallway—followed by the door flinging open with force. “DAVEN?!”

“Let me be your real wife for one month… in bed.” The moment Vanessa, my husband Daven's first love, returned, he asked for a divorce. I made my last request. For thirty nights, he held me like I mattered. On the thirty-first day, I left before sunrise. That afternoon, the news broke: [Billionaire Daven offers his entire fortune for any information about his missing wife.] - “Just one month ... Let me be your wife.”Althea said calmly Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” “I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife.” Silence fell. Then a dismissive laugh escaped Daven’s lips. Daven Callister, her husband, had never loved her. Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. It was Daven’s grandmother who demanded the marriage as a form of atonement for Daven’s role in her mother’s death. But now, with his grandmother taken by illness two weeks ago, Daven finally saw a chance to escape the marriage he had never wanted. Daven wiped the corner of his eye, amused at how absurd her request sounded. What on earth was she thinking? One month? The idea was laughable. Daven took a step toward her, closing the distance. His eyes scanned her face, as if trying to decipher a hidden agenda. Maybe his mother had been all along—maybe Althea was just after the wealth tied to his name. Who didn’t know Daven Callister? CEO of Callister Enterprise, one of the most influential young businessmen in Migathan City. People competed just to get close to him, especially women who thirsted for his attention. But Daven only loved one woman—and it wasn’t his wife. It was someone else entirely—Vanessa Blake, a rising supermodel whose name was lighting up the fashion world. “What makes you think I’d even consider that?” he asked, his voice cold, laced with disbelief. She gave a small nod. “I’m not asking for your love.” she said with a bitter laugh. “All I’m asking is to be treated properly—as your wife. Have dinner with me. Exchange a few words with me every day. Show me a little affection, even if it’s fake.” Her hands clenched into fists to keep herself steady. “After that, I’ll walk away quietly. You’ll be free to marry anyone you want.” Daven squinted, unsure whether to laugh harder or feel irritated. Yet beneath his disbelief, something in her words struck a nerve. A simple request—so painfully simple, it piqued his curiosity. What is Althea's real purpose? This time, Daven’s gaze wasn’t as sharp. He looked at the woman before him with an unreadable expression. Was it confusion? Annoyance? Or... curiosity? “I’m not promising to be nice,” he finally said. “I never expected you to change,” Althea answered, her calmness more shattering than tears ever could be. And with that, an unspoken agreement was formed. One month. Thirty days for Althea to live as the wife of Daven Callister. A reality that should have existed a year ago—ever since their wedding day. “Only one month, Althea,” Daven warned. “After that, you disappear from my sight.” “I understand exactly what I’m asking for, Daven. You don’t have to worry.” -- “Are you out of your mind?” Catherine Callister—more commonly known as Kate—snapped, her shrill voice shattering the silence of the back garden. The lightweight plastic watering can Althea had been using to water the white roses fell from her hand and shattered upon hitting the sharp-edged stone tiles. “How dare you make such a shameless request?” Kate continued, her voice seething with rage. Her eyes blazed. “You’re well aware my son is about to marry Vanessa, aren’t you? Yet you still have the audacity to beg for Daven’s attention?” Althea gave a faint smile. It was the kind of smile that whispered warmth in the middle of a storm. “I’m not asking for Daven’s love, Mrs. Callister,” she replied, her voice soft yet laced with a steely kind of courtesy. “All I asked for was time. Thirty days of his time.” “And what do you think you can accomplish in thirty days, huh?” Kate stepped forward, the heel of her designer shoe crunching over the broken watering can with a sharp, splintering sound. “Daven loves Vanessa. You’re just a pathetic orphan, nothing more than an obstacle standing in their way.” Althea exhaled slowly, then she looked straight into her mother-in-law’s eyes. Her gaze was still calm—but this time, it carried an unmistakable strength. “I never wanted to get in anyone’s way,” she said quietly. “But I’m not something to be discarded either. Yes, I’m nothing more than a girl with nothing—no wealth, no power, no name. But I still have my dignity, Mrs. Callister. And all I want is to hold on to that.” Kate opened her mouth to retort again, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her. Daven appeared from behind the glass doors of the house, his suit still perfectly in place. The weariness from a long day’s work was evident on his face. He glanced briefly between the two women before speaking in a flat tone, “Is there a problem?” Kate turned to him, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Of course, there’s a problem. Your precious wife made an absurd request, and you—” she pointed a manicured finger at him, “—you agreed to it?” Daven didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on Althea. She didn’t say a word, but he knew she wouldn’t deny it. She wasn’t like the rest of the people in this house, hiding their motives behind masks. “She only asked for my time, Mother. Just one month,” Daven said at last. “And I agreed. Vanessa is willing to give me that time.” Kate hissed under her breath, then turned away sharply. “I will never see you as part of this family,” she spat before disappearing down the hallway, her footsteps sharp and swift—like every word she had just hurled. Althea let out a long breath once the woman’s figure vanished from sight. Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them beneath the folds of her dress. Only one figure remained, still standing there, watching her with that same cold stare—like she was nothing more than a discarded object. “I didn’t realize my wife was so stubborn,” Daven mocked. “Do you want to be my wife that badly?” He let out a scoffing chuckle, laced with disdain. “Do you regret agreeing to my request?” Althea asked softly, her gaze gentle but clouded with pain and disappointment. Daven held her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. “No. But I still think it’s ridiculous.” “That’s fine,” Althea said, forcing a smile that barely reached her eyes. “What matters is... I won’t regret it.” For a moment, the only sound between them was the breeze. Daven turned his face away, though his eyes lingered on her cheeks, flushed under the afternoon sun—or perhaps from holding back tears she refused to shed. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away. But just before he vanished through the doorway, his voice called out behind him. “If you’re this insistent... does that mean you’re ready to share my bed tonight, Althea? Isn’t that what you wanted— to become my wife in every sense of the word?” Althea blinked, stunned. She was the one who had made that request, after all—asking to truly be his wife. Which meant... he had the right to touch her. For the next thirty days. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Yes,” she answered, her voice firm. She couldn’t back down now, could she? Even if the thought alone made her body tremble with fear. Daven inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. “Too bad,” he said at last, voice flat. “I’m not interested.” She took a step back, instinctively. His voice was low, dangerously calm. He reached out, fingers brushing her chin—not tenderly, but not cruelly either. Just enough to force her gaze upward. “Tomorrow night,” he said, gaze locked on hers, “I’ll come home not as the man you married on paper—but as the husband you insisted, I become.” Althea’s breath hitched. Her hands curled into fists beside her dress, but she didn’t look away. “I hope you’re ready,” Daven added, pulling back just slightly. “Because I won’t stop to ask if you’ve changed your mind.” *** The sky was already dark when Daven Callister unlocked the door, the familiar click echoing through the silence of the grand house—quiet, yet resounding. His black shoes clicked against the marble floor of the foyer, and the dark grey suit he wore looked slightly rumpled. He sighed, loosening his tie with a lazy tug before stepping further inside. The lights in the main room were still on, casting a warm glow that stood in stark contrast to the cold air outside. “Welcome home, Daven.” His steps halted. Althea stood at the entrance to the dining room, dressed in a simple beige house dress. Her hair was pinned up neatly, with a few soft strands framing her face. She smiled—wide and sincere—her warm brown eyes looking at her husband as if nothing was wrong. For a moment, Daven just looked back at her. Normally, he would have ignored that greeting. But tonight, he couldn’t brush Althea off so easily. “I made dinner,” she said. “I heard the weather’s been chilly today, so I thought you’d like some beef soup and warm bread.” Her words made Daven glance at the dining table. Dinner was set with care: a bowl of steaming soup, homemade bread, and a small plate of salad arranged delicately. A single lit candle stood at the center, casting a soft glow and shadows on the wall. Daven exhaled quietly. “I already ate.” Althea nodded. “That’s okay. But it’d be a shame to let it go cold and to waste. You could try a little.” Her tone was light, not insistent. But for some reason, Daven pulled out a chair and sat down without complaint. Althea took the seat across from him, her hands busy pouring water into a glass. “Go ahead,” she said gently. She didn’t touch her own food, just watched him with a calm gaze. “How was your day?” she asked softly. “Did the morning meeting go well?” Daven picked up the spoon, slowly tasted the soup, and swallowed without replying. Althea offered a faint smile. She understood. Daven wasn’t the kind of man who opened up easily, especially not to someone he considered a wife only because of circumstance. “I heard about the Korean textile merger that’s planning to expand into Mighatan. Aren’t they considered a competitor to Callister Enterprise?” Daven’s head lifted slightly. “Not a direct competitor,” he muttered. “But they do have ties to the raw material markets we’ve been targeting.” Althea nodded thoughtfully. “I thought you’d approach it with an alliance strategy, not competition.” Daven paused mid-bite. There was a moment of silence before he set the spoon down slowly. “You understand quite a bit.” “Some news portals have been covering it. I’ve just been following along a little.” Daven raised an eyebrow slightly. He didn’t say anything, but for the first time in a long while, he looked at Althea—not with disdain or irritation, but with a flicker of interest. Althea smiled, “I want to understand some of the things that make up your world. At the very least… if I’m going to leave one day, I want to go knowing who you really are.” The word “leave” hung in the air like a heavy night fog. Daven said nothing. Instead, he picked up his spoon again and finished the soup in his bowl. A long silence settled between them—comforting in a way neither of them could quite define. Until finally, Daven spoke—his tone as flat as usual, though this time, not as cold. “In two days, there’s a dinner at the Mighatan Embassy. The Japanese Ambassador will be attending.” Althea turned to him slowly. “Sounds like an important meeting.” “The Japanese Ambassador has taken a particular interest in Callister Enterprise. He extended a personal invitation.” “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Althea’s voice carried a hint of enthusiasm. “They invited me... with a partner.” She was still smiling. “You can do that, Daven.” “My wife.” Althea went quiet. “I’ve been asked to attend with my wife, Althea.” Those words rendered her speechless. A sharp, unexplainable ache bloomed in her chest. It had already seemed certain that Daven would go with Vanessa. And why was he telling her this? Just to remind her of her place? Even without being told, Althea was painfully aware of who she was in this house. “Get ready to attend the event, Althea.” Daven rose from his seat, resting a hand on the table before walking toward the stairs. But just before he disappeared from sight, he spoke again—without turning back: “The soup was good.” She hadn’t processed what he’d said yet. Not fully. But... “He asked me to go as his wife?” Althea muttered, pressing her palms to her warming cheeks. Her lips curved slightly. So it really was going smoother than she’d expected. *** She stared at her reflection in the tall mirror. The gown she wore was a gift from Evelyn Callyster—a kind, warm-hearted woman who had been so close to her. Her passing had left a deep emptiness in Althea’s heart. Just like the time she lost her own mother, who took her final breath after suffering a fatal head injury in that accident, Althea hadn’t been able to stop crying. Evelyn had quietly purchased several elegant dresses for her, saying that maybe one day, Althea would attend a formal event alongside Daven. Sadly, that day had never come. Until tonight. The gown was a pale gold, shimmering subtly under the light, flowing over her body with a graceful, understated cut. The neckline was bare, adorned only by a delicate pearl necklace—her mother’s last keepsake. Althea’s hair was styled into a low chignon, neat yet soft, framing her face. Her makeup was light, just enough to highlight the calm in her eyes and the gentle curve of her smile. She didn’t look like a woman from a modest background. Tonight, Althea Grayson looked every bit like a noblewoman stepped out of a classic tale. “Please… let this evening pass without incident,” she whispered to herself, trying to summon courage. When she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the main hall, Daven was already there, standing while checking his phone, as though his world was far too full to notice anything else. The soft tap of heels broke the silence. He froze. His eyes lifted, and his expression shifted ever so slightly. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze lingered on her. His hand lowered, the phone forgotten, and a faint crease formed between his brows. For the first time, he seemed unsure of what to say. Althea approached, a small smile still gracing her lips. “Have you… been waiting long?” “No,” Daven replied curtly. “Is… is this dress too much?” she asked, a bit nervous under the weight of his stare—he had never looked at her quite like this before. “If it is, I can change into something else.” “There’s no need,” he answered quietly. “Let’s go. The car’s waiting.” On the way, Daven remained mostly silent. But unlike usual, he didn’t distance himself. He sat calmly beside her, and for the first time, didn’t recoil when Althea instinctively reached out to adjust his tie. Her hand paused as her fingers brushed against his collar. Their eyes met—just for a moment—but it was enough to make Daven inhale sharply and turn his face toward the window. “Ah, I’m sorry,” Althea said quickly, pulling her hand away to give him space. Daven still said nothing. “I won’t stand too close to you tonight,” she said eventually, her voice steady but careful. “Since you’ll soon be marrying Vanessa, I think it’s only right for me to know my place.” Daven turned slowly, his gaze sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I’ll just stay slightly behind you,” she explained softly, with a faint smile, trying to sound reasonable. “Enough for you to know I’m there… but not in the way. I don’t want to cause any misunderstandings.” Daven closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his voice low and cold. “If you dare step away from me or pretend, you’re not my wife in front of them,” he said in a quiet, threatening tone, “you’ll regret it.” Althea froze. She stared at him, uncertain of what she had just heard. “Daven, I only—” “There’s no ‘only,’” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Tonight, you’ll stand beside me. As my wife. As you should.” A heavy silence fell between them. Althea lowered her gaze, letting a few strands of hair fall to shield her face—and a faint, unreadable smile curved her lips.

After three years of a sexless contract marriage, her husband finally asked for a divorce. She agreed on one condition only: thirty nights of unprotected $ex before she disappeared from his life. "I'm getting married again," Daven said. "And I won’t repeat myself, nor will I be asking for your permission." He set his coffee cup down abruptly, ending breakfast, he hadn't even touched. Althea stood frozen near the long dining table topped with white marble. Her fingers, still holding the spatula, began to tremble. "With Vanessa?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Daven didn’t look at her. He simply took a shallow breath before replying coldly, “Yes. Who else?” Her husband, Daven Callister, had never loved her. His heart belonged entirely to Vanessa Blake. In truth, their marriage had always been nothing more than an obstacle to his love story. But what could Althea do when the woman who arranged the marriage had been so kind to her? Evelyn Callister—Daven’s grandmother. Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. She had surrendered, despite the grief that still haunted her from losing her mother. But Evelyn had refused to let it end there. She demanded that her beloved grandson, Daven—the man responsible for Althea’s mother’s death—marry her as a form of atonement. Eve saw Althea as a lonely girl with no one else in the world. Daven had only agreed because he was cornered by his grandmother’s wishes. He had no choice but to comply. But now, with Evelyn Callister gone—taken by illness two weeks ago—Daven finally saw a chance to escape a marriage he’d never wanted. There was no reason to stay. Not anymore. A faint, almost invisible smile appeared on Althea’s lips—not from joy, but from bitter resignation. She turned off the stove and gently set the spatula down. “I won’t stand in your way,” she said at last. Her voice was soft—so soft it barely reached across the wide room. “We both know I never had a place in your heart.” Daven remained silent. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t correct her either. But there was the slightest flicker of disturbance in his gaze as Althea walked slowly toward him. For a moment, he thought she might cry, beg, or show just enough sorrow to make him feel guilty. But she didn’t. Althea stood tall. Her hands clenched lightly at the sides of her simple dress. Her long black hair flowed freely down her back, a quiet contrast to the calm strength in her posture. Her warm, light brown eyes now stared at him—blank, unreadable. At the man who had always been a stranger beneath the same roof. Althea was beautiful, in her quiet way. But that beauty had never stirred anything in Daven. To him, Althea was nothing more than a disruption—an outsider forced into his life. And now that he had the chance to remove her, Daven intended to do exactly that. “Give me one month of your time,” Althea said calmly. “Just one month ... Let me be your wife for real.” Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” “I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife. Not just some stranger living under your roof.” Silence fell. Then a dismissive laugh escaped Daven’s lips. He even wiped the corner of his eye, amused at how absurd her request sounded. What on earth was she thinking? “You’re serious?” he asked, his voice cold, laced with disbelief. “This isn’t some cheap soap opera, Althea.” She gave a small nod. “I’m not asking for your love. Who am I to ask for something like that?” she said with a bitter laugh. “All I’m asking is to be treated properly—as your wife. Have dinner with me. Exchange a few words with me every day. Show me a little affection, even if it’s fake.” She swallowed hard, her hands clenched into fists to keep herself steady. “After that, I’ll Walk away quietly. You’ll be free to marry anyone you want.” Daven squinted, unsure whether to laugh harder or feel irritated. Yet beneath his disbelief, something in her words struck a nerve. A simple request—so painfully simple, it piqued his curiosity. What is Althea's real purpose? “Why not ask for something more reasonable?” Althea fell silent. Looking away from Daven was difficult when those midnight-dark eyes were fixed on hers, commanding her not to break eye contact—not until he’d heard everything she had to say. “If it’s money you want, just say it. I’ll give it to you.” “No,” she said firmly, without hesitation. Her resolve had already been sealed. There was no turning back now. “You really don’t know how to give up, do you?” Daven sneered. “I already have, Daven,” Althea replied softly. “But I just want one memory to keep for the rest of my life. Before I walk away from you for good.” Neither of them spoke after that. This time, Daven’s gaze wasn’t as sharp. He looked at the woman before him with an unreadable expression. Was it confusion? Annoyance? Or... curiosity? “I’m not promising to be nice,” he finally said. “I never expected you to change,” Althea answered, her calmness more shattering than tears ever could be. And with that, an unspoken agreement was formed. One month. Thirty days for Althea to live as the wife of Daven Callister. A reality that should have existed a year ago—ever since their wedding day. But to Daven, she’d always been nothing more than an intruder. Now, before everything ended, Althea could at least be grateful—Daven hadn’t rejected her request. “Only one month, Althea,” Daven warned. “After that, you disappear from my sight.” “I understand exactly what I’m asking for, Daven. You don’t have to worry.” He scoffed, the corner of his lips curling with disdain. “And if you expect more than what I’m willing to give, I won’t hesitate to throw you out.” Althea nodded obediently. “Don’t you dare break your promise, Althea.” His gaze turned sharp again, piercing. “If you do, don’t blame me for destroying your life.” -- “Are you out of your mind?” Catherine Callister—more commonly known as Kate—snapped, her shrill voice shattering the silence of the back garden. “How dare you make such a shameless request?” Kate continued, her voice seething with rage. Her eyes blazed. “You’re well aware my son is about to marry Vanessa, aren’t you? Of course you know that—and yet you still have the audacity to beg for Daven’s attention?” Althea gave a faint smile, about to speak—but Kate cut her off sharply, clearly unwilling to hear a single word in return. “You look like some pathetic little love-starved beggar.” “Yes, I’m nothing more than a girl with nothing—no wealth, no power, no name. But I still have my dignity, Mrs. Callister. And all I want is to hold on to that.” Althea’s words were met with a scornful scoff from Kate. The older woman looked at her daughter-in-law with disbelief, clearly unable to comprehend the way her mind worked. “You can keep your dignity, Althea. But at the very least, you should know your place in this house.” “I’m fully aware of that, Mrs. Callister,” Althea replied calmly. Kate opened her mouth to retort again, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her. Daven appeared from behind the glass doors of the house, his suit still perfectly in place. The weariness from a long day’s work was evident on his face. He glanced briefly between the two women before speaking in a flat tone, “Is there a problem?” Kate turned to him, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Of course, there’s a problem. Your precious wife is trying to sabotage your wedding with Vanessa. She made an absurd request, and you—” she pointed a manicured finger at him, “—you agreed to it? I honestly don’t understand what you were thinking, Dave!” Daven didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on Althea. She didn’t say a word, but he knew she wouldn’t deny it. She wasn’t like the rest of the people in this house, hiding their motives behind masks. “She only asked for my time, Mother. Just one month,” Daven said at last. “And I agreed. I’ve already spoken to Vanessa and explained everything. She’s willing to give me that time. Our love has already stood the test of time, Mother. It’s been a year since I married this woman, and Vanessa still waited for me. She didn’t mind giving me thirty more days.” Kate could hardly believe what she was hearing. She buried her face in her hands in sheer frustration. But there was nothing more she could do. She had no choice but to go along with whatever her son had decided. “Just make sure this shameless woman is out of the Callister family’s life when the month is over, Daven. I don’t want my beloved daughter-in-law waiting any longer.” “Yes,” Daven replied curtly. Althea, who had been standing quietly between them, spoke again. “I know exactly where I stand. And I will leave once my time is up. But for now... I just want to spend what’s left in peace. That’s all I ask.” Kate hissed under her breath, then turned away sharply. “I will never see you as part of this family,” she spat before disappearing down the hallway, her footsteps sharp and swift—like every word she had just hurled. Althea let out a long breath once the woman’s figure vanished from sight. Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them beneath the folds of her dress. Only one figure remained, still standing there, watching her with that same cold stare—like she was nothing more than a discarded object. “I didn’t realize my wife was so stubborn,” Daven mocked. “Do you want to be my wife that badly?” He let out a scoffing chuckle, laced with disdain. She took a step back, instinctively. “It’s not like that—” “Oh? Then what is it?” he snapped. “You begged for this. You practically signed yourself up to be mine—for a month.” His voice was low, dangerously calm. He reached out, fingers brushing her chin—not tenderly, but not cruelly either. Just enough to force her gaze upward. “Tomorrow night,” he said, gaze locked on hers, “I’ll come home not as the man you married on paper—but as the husband you insisted, I become.” Althea’s breath hitched. Her hands curled into fists beside her dress, but she didn’t look away. “I hope you’re ready,” Daven added, pulling back just slightly. “Because I won’t stop to ask if you’ve changed your mind.” It would be a lie to say Althea wasn’t hurt. It would be hypocritical to say she wasn’t sad or disappointed. But... what could she possibly do to stop any of this? Even the man she had once thought she could rely on turned out to be the very first to break her heart. Althea wasn’t blind. She could clearly see how Daven made no effort to hide his relationship with his lover. And yet, in front of his grandmother, Daven wore the perfect mask of a loving, attentive husband. “God,” she whispered, eyes shut tight as the night deepened around her. Tomorrow was another day she had to face. “Please, have mercy on me. Just a little kindness, Lord. Please... grant me this one thing.” When Althea had told him what she wanted, she never imagined Daven would agree. That was why she couldn't afford to waste this—perhaps her only—chance. A child. Althea wanted a child. A companion in the years to come. Someone she could love without conditions. Someone who would call her “Mama”—even if that was the only warm word she would ever hear in her life. And she knew... this might be her one and only opportunity. She had no one left in the world. She wouldn’t ask for anything from Daven. In fact, she had already planned to disappear—to live quietly somewhere far away with her child. Somewhere Daven would never come. Because by then, he would surely be busy living his perfect life with the woman he truly loved. That was her wish. No matter how many people might call it foolish or insane, she still hoped. That was why, that morning, Althea stood in front of the tall mirror in her private room. Her small fingers adjusted the soft fringe of her newly trimmed bangs. A little hesitant, but she smiled at her own reflection. Her face had been gently made up—not overly glamorous, but just enough to highlight a beauty she rarely revealed. Today, she wanted to look beautiful. Althea wore a simple nude-colored dress that delicately embraced her graceful figure. She smiled softly as her hand brushed the fabric. This morning, she planned to make Daven a special breakfast. “I’m ready,” she whispered to herself. “If only Daven would hug me in the kitchen—” Ugh! A flush of warmth rushed to her cheeks. A flurry of romantic novels she had once read flashed through her mind—vivid with their dreamy tales of husband and wife, wrapped in affection, making love in every corner of the house, passion igniting wherever they touched. “How naive can you be, Althea?” she scoffed at herself. “Daven would never do such a thing.” But… wasn’t hope often found nestled above the impossible? Sadly, that fragile hope shattered the moment the doorbell rang downstairs—followed by the unmistakable sound of heels and a sharp, mocking laugh. “Who could that be?” Althea slowly descended the stairs. The subtle smile she had practiced in front of the mirror began to fade, replaced by a calm yet guarded expression. In the living room, a woman sat with absolute ease. She wore a striking maroon jumpsuit and gleaming high heels. Vanessa Blake. Arrogant. Beautiful. And fully aware of the power of her presence. Her face was exactly as it appeared on television screens and countless advertisements. In truth, Althea had to admit—Vanessa looked like a goddess who descended to Earth. Unfortunately... her smile and manners were said otherwise. Especially when directed at Althea. “Oh?” Vanessa turned, her gaze sweeping over Althea from head to toe. Her smirk tilted upward with disdain. “So, you do know how to dress up, after all.” Althea remained poised. “Is there something I can help you with, Miss Vanessa?” “Oh, straight to the point, are we?” Vanessa rose to her feet, lightly patting the designer bag on her lap. “Aren’t you going to offer me anything? A drink, maybe?” She swept her long hair over one shoulder with practiced ease. “I’d think you’d have the decency to know your place. In this house, you’re the one most suited to serving guests. Your face certainly fits the part, Althea.” Althea chose to smile. “I’m not here for small talk,” Vanessa sneered. “I just dropped by. I wanted to see for myself what my fiancé is doing with a woman who doesn’t know her place. I thought you were bluffing when you asked Daven for time, but now I see—you’ve really lost your mind.” “I’m still capable of thinking rationally, Miss Vanessa.” Vanessa let out a delighted, mocking laugh. “Rational? Dressed like this? Hoping to seduce Daven?” She stepped forward, eyes blazing. “You’re nothing but a cheap woman!” Before Vanessa could grab at her dress, Althea moved first. Her hand shot out, clutching Vanessa’s wrist in a firm grip—just enough to make her stop. “I don’t care if you think I’m cheap, Miss Vanessa. But as of now, I am still Daven Callister’s wife.” Her gaze didn’t waver. Neither did her grip. “Watch your boundaries, you bitch!” Vanessa snarled. But then she laughed—quietly at first, the sound sharp and brittle like shattered glass. “Oh, sweetheart… that title—‘Daven Callister’s wife’—only exists on paper. Everyone knows that.” “And everyone also knows your wedding hasn’t happened yet,” Althea replied softly but clearly. “So until that day comes, I am still his wife. And I will carry out that role properly, Miss Vanessa.” Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “You really think you can touch him? That you can make him sleep with you? You are truly pathetic.” “I’m not expecting anything,” Althea said, lifting her chin ever so slightly. “You don’t have to feel threatened by all this, do you? After all, hasn’t it already been decided who the real winner is?” She released her grip and stepped back. She didn’t want to touch the woman Daven loved any longer than necessary. If it weren’t for the sheer strength of her resolve, Althea might have been in tears already just from facing Vanessa this morning. Vanessa rubbed the wrist Althea had held. That damn woman! How dare she? She would not let this slide. Althea would pay for it—every bit. “You know, Althea, I’ve always wondered…” Vanessa said slowly, her words slicing like daggers, “why Daven ever agreed to marry you. You’re nobody. No prestigious background, no powerful connections, not even a name worth mentioning.” If those words had come from Kate Callister, her mother-in-law, Althea might’ve been able to accept them. But coming from Vanessa—an outsider who, unfortunately, was valued like family within the Callister circle—they stung worse than ever. She could say anything to Althea, and no one would ever stop her. Althea said nothing, standing there with forced calm. She knew Vanessa was fishing—looking for any crack in her armor to strike. And God, how hard she had to fight not to let the tears fall. “I used to think Daven married you out of pity. But now, I think… maybe he’s finally realized just how greedy you really are. You act quiet, pretend to be all innocent—but behind that fake purity, you’re sly, aren’t you?” "That’s enough, Miss Vanessa," Althea said quietly. "If you came here just to insult me, I won’t entertain it. I have no intention of humiliating anyone." "Humiliate?" Vanessa scoffed with a mocking laugh. "Sweetheart, you’ve already humiliated yourself just by dressing like that. What were you thinking? Would that Daven see you and suddenly fall in love? That he’d leave me for you?" "I never expected that," Althea replied calmly, her voice steady. "I’m simply fulfilling my role, because that’s the only thing I can do right now." "Fulfilling your role?" Vanessa sneered. "You sound like a grieving widow. It’s tragic, really. But even more pitiful since your husband is very much alive… and in love with someone else." Althea bit her lower lip slowly. She lowered her head, inhaling deeply. She would not cry. Not in front of Vanessa. But before she could say a word, footsteps echoed from the upper floor. Daven. He had just emerged from his room, wearing a gray shirt and tailored pants. His appearance was relaxed, but the sharpness in his eyes immediately caught the scene unfolding at the bottom of the stairs—Vanessa standing far too close to Althea, whose face looked pale as if she was holding something back. Before he could speak, another voice cut through the tension. "What’s going on here? Why all the noise so early in the morning?" Kate Callister’s sharp tone filled the room as she descended the stairs, flanked by her two daughters—Karina and Felicia—both of whom looked at Althea with the same disdain etched on their mother’s face. Vanessa wasted no time stepping into her self-appointed role. "Aunt Kate… I just came to express my concern. Look at her—Althea dressed like this just to get Daven’s attention. I’m worried… she may be forgetting her place." "Oh, for heaven’s sake," Kate eyed Althea from head to toe. "What are you thinking, wearing something like that, Althea? Where’s your sense of decency?" "I haven’t done anything inappropriate by wearing this. I’m used to dressing like this at home," Althea responded softly, still trying to remain polite. Karina let out a mocking giggle. "Goodness, you’ve only lived in this house for a year and already you’re acting like you own the place?" And it wasn’t just Siena. Felicia chimed in as well. "This woman is getting bolder by the day!" she snapped, shoving Althea’s shoulder hard enough to make her stumble, nearly falling. "Wake up, Althea! You don’t belong here! You’re completely out of line!" "Enough!" Daven’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, making everyone turn toward him. "Daven, you’re not planning to defend her, are you?" Karina asked, shocked. He sighed, clearly exhausted. "I’m not defending anyone. I just want this morning to go on without any of your theatrics. I already have enough on my plate with work." Vanessa pouted, lips forming a sulky curve. "I’ll take that as a defense for her, darling." Daven exhaled softly. "That could never happen." He stepped closer to Vanessa, gently brushing her flowing hair back with his hand, completely ignoring the sadness clouding Althea’s gaze just a few feet away. Did Daven care? Not at all. "I’m asking all of you to end this argument. I need peace and quiet." Daven’s tone was flat, devoid of emotion, but firm enough to silence everyone in the room. Kate scoffed in irritation. "Oh, for heaven’s sake, fine. I’ll have breakfast elsewhere." She turned on her heel and walked away without waiting for a response, followed closely by Karina and Felicia—both still shooting scornful looks at Althea as they passed. Vanessa remained where she was, glaring at Althea with thinly veiled rage before finally storming off, her footsteps brisk with irritation. Once the four of them disappeared from the living room, silence fell. Daven rubbed his face slowly, looking completely exhausted. "Whatever is going on between you all, don’t make it my problem this morning." Althea, who had been standing calmly despite the turmoil tearing through her heart, finally found the courage to look up at her husband. Her voice was soft, but steady. "Then, please allow me to prepare your breakfast. It’ll only take five minutes. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?" Daven didn’t respond immediately. He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a brief nod. "Fine. Just don’t waste my time." Althea gave a slight nod and quietly turned toward the kitchen. Five minutes later, she returned carrying a tray with neatly arranged toast, a sunny-side-up egg, and a steaming cup of coffee—even the napkin had been folded to perfection. Daven was already seated at the dining table, scrolling through documents on his tablet. "Here," Althea said, setting the tray down in front of him. "I know it’s simple, but... I hope it helps you start your day right." Daven glanced at the food for a second, then began to eat without saying much. Althea pulled out a chair and sat across from him, folding her hands on her lap. Her lips parted, hesitant at first, but then she spoke up again. "You haven’t forgotten your promise, have you?" she asked gently. "I just wanted to remind you." Daven set down his fork and knife, meeting her gaze with a neutral expression. "No." Althea gave a small nod. "Then I’ll do my part as your wife—as I should. I’ll prepare your breakfast, make sure you don’t forget any important documents for work," she said with a faint smile, "and everything else a married couple might normally do." Daven sighed and briefly massaged his temples. "I don’t want any unnecessary drama. You know the limits, Althea. Don’t make me regret agreeing to this." "I won’t make you regret it," Althea replied, steadying herself. Her brown eyes locked onto his without hesitation. "Just one thing this morning... I only want to ask for one thing." Daven returned her gaze, disinterested. "What is it?" "Could you give me... a morning kiss?" ** "Are you ... lost your mind?" Althea understood perfectly why her best friend reacted that way, her face frozen in disbelief. She had told Lydia everything—though without shedding a single tear, Lydia knew just how deep the pain and disappointment ran. Not all pain needed tears to be felt. Sometimes, the wound cut so deeply that even tears no longer had the strength to fall. "You can say whatever you want," Althea replied with a faint smile. "But I think this is the only chance life has given me." "You have me, Althea. You’re not alone in this world," Lydia snapped, frustrated. "I’ve told you so many times, the Callister family is no place for someone like you. You’re too kind… too gentle to be forced to survive among them." Althea stared at her now-lukewarm cup of tea. Her hands still wrapped around it, as if whatever warmth remained could calm the storm inside her chest. "I know," she whispered, barely audible. "If I could turn back time, I would never have wanted to be part of their family." A bitter smile curved her lips, one meant only for herself—for the life that felt like an endless tidal wave crashing repeatedly. Lydia let out a long sigh, leaning closer toward Althea, who sat slumped in defeat. "Why are you choosing to wait a whole month? In the end, Daven’s still going to divorce you, isn’t he?" Althea nodded slowly. "Like I said before… who knows? Maybe sometime within that month, Daven might spend the night with me." She gave a pained smile, her head bowing lower. "My life is pathetic, isn’t it?" Silence stretched between them. "But who knows," Althea said softly. "Maybe God will take pity on me. Maybe I’ll get pregnant." "Aren’t you afraid?" Lydia asked cautiously. "What if Daven finds out someday?" "Why should I be afraid? It’s just a night like the ones he spends with other women, isn’t it? I can give him plenty of reasons. I won’t ask anything from him. There won’t be a Callister name tied to me—or my child—ever again." Lydia exhaled heavily. The despair Althea carried wasn’t baseless. If this was what Althea wanted, then there was nothing Lydia could do but stand by her. "And you’re really sure you want to sell the house?" "Yes," Althea answered without hesitation. Lydia looked at her, a mix of admiration and sorrow in her eyes. "But that house—it was your mother’s. You two made so many memories there." Althea paused for a moment, then offered a faint, wistful smile. "I don’t want to leave any trace of myself in this city, Lydia. I’ve made up my mind. I’m truly leaving." ** After organizing a few shelves and small cabinets in the bedroom, Althea dozed off from sheer exhaustion. Some of her favorite books were neatly packed into boxes. She’d decided it was best to be ready—just in case things didn’t go the way she hoped. “Ugh,” Althea groaned, her body aching in a few spots. Maybe she’d slept in a weird position? Who knew. Either way, the discomfort stirred her awake. Her throat felt dry too. She grabbed a light robe and quietly padded out of the room toward the kitchen. Each step down the stairs was careful and slow. The house was completely silent, almost eerily so. Even the ticking of the wall clock sounded louder than usual. But as she stepped into the dining area, she froze. The soft glow from the kitchen light was on. And he was there—Daven. Althea stood still for a few seconds, watching him in silence as he reached into the fridge. His hair was slightly tousled, his suit jacket gone, leaving only a white shirt with the sleeves rolling up. He looked tired—truly worn out. The sharpness in his eyes had dulled into something softer, heavier. “Daven?” Her voice was quiet, uncertain, as if needing confirmation that it was really him. He glanced over. “You’re still wake up?” “I woke up thirsty.” Daven gave a small nod, then shut the fridge door. “You just got home?” “Yeah,” he murmured, letting out a long sigh. Althea bit her lip, then reached for a glass from the rack and filled it with cold water. She drank half of it before glancing back at him. “Are you hungry?” He didn’t answer immediately. “I can make you something if you don’t mind waiting.” “…Sure. Go ahead. I’ll wait.” Althea gave a small nod, hiding the faint smile tugging at her lips as she turned toward the stove. She chose something simple—cheese omelet with parsley and toast. Easy to make, filling enough to ease an empty stomach. Daven took a seat at the table near the kitchen while the aroma of melting cheese slowly filled the air. His eyes didn’t leave her—not once. He watched Althea move about the kitchen, quick and precise, like she belonged there. Every motion was smooth, effortless. Like this was her space. Like she found comfort in it. “You’re pretty skilled,” Daven said, breaking the silence. Althea looked over her shoulder, blinking. “Skilled?” “In the kitchen.” A soft laugh escaped her, half-surprised. “I’ve had some practice,” she replied, turning back to the stove. Althea laughed softly. “I enjoy cooking. It makes me happy to turn simple ingredients into something delicious—especially when someone else enjoys it too.” Ah. She’d forgotten—Daven didn’t like it when she talked too much. “Sorry, Daven,” she muttered quickly, cutting herself off. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked, smirking. “Keep talking, if you want to.” “Um... what about the merger talks with the Asian company yesterday?” she asked suddenly, without turning to him. “Was a decision made?” Daven raised an eyebrow slightly. “You’ve been keeping up with the news, haven’t you?” Althea just shrugged. The food was ready, and she placed the plate in front of him. “Enjoy.” “The problem wasn’t the merger proposal,” Daven said, slicing into the omelet. “It’s the board. They’re too conservative.” He took a slow bite. The aroma alone had already awakened his appetite, and now, with the first taste, it was clear—this was exactly what he needed. “This is good, Althea. You really do know how to cook.” A bright smile lit up her face. “Thanks for the compliment.” She poured him a glass of water and set it on the table. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to win them over.” Daven took another bite. “Maybe.” After a few more mouthfuls, he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly. “It’s better than I expected.” “The omelet?” “Mhm. Or maybe I was just starving.” Althea chuckled quietly, then began gathering the dirty dishes. She stood, ready to clean up—but Daven spoke again. “Sit with me. Just a little longer.” She obeyed without question. Silence returned, comfortable yet thick with something unspoken. Then, Daven turned his head slightly, studying her with a gaze that cut deeper than before. “I’m curious,” he said. “Do you really understand what it means to ask me to make you my wife—for real?” Althea swallowed hard, her nerves prickling, but she knew she couldn’t avoid the question. “Yes. You even warned me to be ready—whether that meant spreading my legs or playing the role of the obedient wife.” Daven let out a short breath, followed by a quiet laugh—part disbelief, part something else she couldn’t quite name. “So you’re really offering yourself just like that?” She held his gaze, steady and unflinching. “If you see it as desperation or a lack of pride… I won’t argue. Because it is my choice. My decision.” A taut silence stretched between them—until Daven suddenly moved. His large hand gripped Althea’s face—not harshly, but not gently either. Just enough to make her eyes widen in stunned disbelief. His breath hit her skin, hot and close—and then the kiss landed like a storm. Deep. Rough. Unyielding. It crashed into her like a wave, giving no space, no hesitation. Althea gasped, her body jolting from the sheer intensity. Daven kissed her like he was trying to burn away every trace of doubt. There was no tenderness in it, none—as if to remind her that this was what she had asked for. Not him. It hurt. God, it hurt. But Althea forced herself to meet him halfway. Her fingers clutched the edge of the chair, trying to steady herself as her breath caught in her throat. Only when Daven pulled back slightly—just enough to let her breathe—did she finally drag air back into her lungs, shaky and uneven. But before she could gather her thoughts, his voice dropped low, brushing against her ear like a warning wrapped in fire. “Tonight… will be a very long night for you, Althea.” It would be a lie to say Althea wasn’t nervous. She’d only gotten up to grab a glass of water. Then she ended up making a light dinner because Daven looked exhausted and hungry. And now… now she was here. In Daven’s bedroom. A room she had never stepped in before. “God, how did I end up this nervous?” she cursed inwardly. But no matter how she tried to play it down, tonight was the night. The night she had longed for. The night she would finally spend with Daven—not just as the woman living in his house, but as his wife. A night that should’ve been theirs a year ago. “Don’t do anything stupid, Althea,” she whispered to herself. “Just keep up with him. You can do this.” She squeezed the fabric of her sleepwear tightly in her fists. “Think of all those romantic novels you’ve read. You’ve got this.” When she’d first entered Daven’s room, she was met with dim lighting and a quiet, minimalist space. Shades of grey and white covered every surface, neat and impersonal, like a hotel suite. Daven had asked her to wait—he wanted to take a shower. Now, only the ticking clock kept her company, along with the faint sound of water from the bathroom. But when that sound finally stopped… her heart skipped wildly in her chest. He was done. “Stay calm. Don’t panic. Just breathe,” she reminded herself, steadying her nerves. Althea stood by the window, not daring to sit on his perfectly made bed. Her back faced the light, casting her in silhouette. The soft cotton of her sleepwear clung gently to her frame, making her appear smaller, more delicate than usual. Daven walked toward her. “You really waited for me,” he said with a small laugh. Honestly, he’d half expected her to run away. But no—Althea had meant what she said. “You told me to wait, didn’t you?” she replied, turning around—only to freeze in surprise. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of shorts, a towel slung over his shoulder. Althea didn’t know what to do next. Daven’s broad, sculpted back had been wrecking her focus since the moment he sat down. Maybe she should just leave—quickly—before this went any further. Because of that question he asked earlier? It had sounded an awful lot like a lie. A beautifully packaged excuse with no real intention behind it. "Come here," Daven said suddenly, turning around to face her. Althea froze, her gaze falling to the floor as her cheeks flushed crimson. Why was she blushing? Embarrassed, maybe? God—was she really acting like some innocent teenager facing a man for the first time? Or maybe... The stiff way she stood there made Daven chuckle under his breath. The sound made Althea lift her head, confused. “You’re laughing at me?” “What else?” he said with a teasing smirk, his eyes sharp and dark as the midnight sky, trained solely on her. “You’ve been begging me for this, haven’t you? Going on and on about our agreement since yesterday…” His tone was intentionally laced with provocation, each word a calculated push. He took a step forward. “And now that I ask you to come closer, you hesitate?” “I’m not hesitating,” she snapped, lifting her chin. “I told you—I want tonight to be the night we’re husband and wife. For real.” Daven didn’t stop approaching. Step by step, he backed her up until her spine hit the wall with a soft thud. “Ugh,” Althea let out, startled, but she had nowhere else to go. “This is my first time, Daven,” she admitted, her voice quiet, trembling not just from nerves—but honesty. She hoped he’d ease up on the pressure, even just a little. Because right now, she was afraid. Daven said nothing. His eyes—sharp and unreadable—narrowed slightly as his hand reached up to gently cup her chin, tilting her face to meet his. “You’re scared?” “No.” She swallowed hard but didn’t look away. “What hurts more is when you ignore me. Like I don’t exist.” Daven’s voice was barely audible. “Stubborn woman.” “You should’ve figured that out the day we got married.” He stepped in even closer. This time, his fingers brushed against her cheek—soft, cool skin that radiated heat beneath his touch. Whether it was from nervousness or the cold air in the room, he couldn’t tell. He kept staring at her, his thumb drawing idle circles against her skin, as if something inside him was warring with reason. He exhaled slowly—was it frustrating? Or something deeper unraveling inside him? “Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered. “Like what?” Althea whispered. She could sense it—he was the one on the verge of retreating. And that realization pushed her to do something bold, maybe reckless. Her trembling hand reached out, gently tracing the lines of his chest. “This is your final warning, Althea,” Daven said, his voice tight, full of strain. Like a man on the edge of restraint. “I’m not backing down, Dav. I’ve already thrown away every shred of pride I had just to stand here in front of you and ask for this…” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Tell me something—am I that unattractive to you? Is that why you keep rejecting me?” “Damn it.” He seized both her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. The other returned to her face, his grip firm but not cruel, anchoring her there as his mouth crashed onto hers—rough, sudden, desperate. His tongue forced its way past her lips, leaving her no time to catch her breath. “I don’t know if I’m going to hurt you or not,” he growled between kisses, “but this is your choice. You didn’t walk away.” “D-Do whatever you want, Dav.” It took everything she had to get the words out. Keeping up with Daven felt like being swept into a current she had no hope of escaping. But she didn’t want to. He sucked in a breath, eyes blazing. “You’re driving me insane tonight, Althea.” She met his gaze, her voice steady even as her heart raced. “Then maybe the only thing left to do... is go insane together.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. Only the sound of their breathing filled the air, heavy and uneven, mingling in the silence like a delicate thread threatening to snap. Althea’s cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself. But to Daven, she had never looked more captivating—like something fragile wrapped in fire, burning softly yet refusing to be extinguished. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. And maybe that was why, without a word, he swept her into his arms in a swift motion and carried her toward the bed. Every kiss he gave her was returned with soft gasps and breathless whimpers. His touch left trails of warmth across her skin, branding her in ways that made her tremble. There was something about the way she looked at him—those wide amber eyes filled with vulnerability and longing—that made Daven falter for the briefest second. He didn’t understand what he felt... only that he didn’t want to let her go. When he leaned in to press another kiss onto her lips, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached for him with trembling hands, her touch hesitant but sincere. "You’re really not backing down," Daven murmured, his voice low, almost disbelieving. "Wasn’t that what you asked for?" she replied softly, her breath brushing against his lips. He paused—just long enough to give her one last chance to walk away. "This is your last warning, Althea," he said, his forehead pressed against her. "Once I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop." Althea’s hands slid up to his shoulders, her fingers digging in just slightly as she whispered, “Then don’t stop. Let this night be mine, Daven. Just this once.” There was a flicker in his eyes—something between restraint and surrender—before he leaned in again, this time more gently. His kiss was slower, deeper, and laced with the kind of unspoken emotion neither of them could name. As their bodies tangled beneath the dim glow of the room, Daven moved with a mixture of intensity and care, as though he was memorizing every inch of her. Althea gave herself over to the moment, not out of recklessness, but because she wanted to remember this night—not with regret, but with quiet gratitude. She wasn’t asking him to love her. She wasn’t hoping he would change. All she wanted... was to carry a memory that mattered. Something real. Something hers. Please, God, she prayed silently, let this be the one night I never have to forget. ... “Mm… why is it hurt so much?” Althea mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyelids fluttered open as a soft morning light filtered in, helping her vision adjust. Wait… Her senses scrambled to make sense of it all—the feel of the comforter, the plushness of the mattress, and then... that faint, unmistakably masculine scent. Familiar. Warm. Clean. Daven Callister. Her face flushed red as memories of last night rushed back—those naked, intimate moments, their sweaty skin pressed together… “You’re awake?” His voice sent a jolt down her spine. Althea turned sharply toward the source. There he was—sitting casually on a sofa just a few feet away from the bed. Daven took off his glasses and set down his work tablet, then rose and walked toward her. She didn’t move. Her thoughts were still catching up, still trying to process the fact that they actually did it. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice tight. Already slipping on his blazer, Daven glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. “Just past seven.” “Oh my God!” she gasped, panic spiking again. “I overslept!” Daven raised an eyebrow. “So? Is that a problem?” She threw the covers aside in a flurry, frantically searching for something. He watched her curiously. Was this how she always woke up? “I-I haven't even made you breakfast.” she murmured, eyes lowered in embarrassment."Sorry, I just-" “It’s fine,” he cut her off gently, now standing right beside the bed. Her face was completely bare, her soft and unguarded. A few stray strands of hair framed her cheeks. Disheveled, but in a way that made her look effortlessly beautiful. Was this what Althea looked like when she first woke up? Daven had never seen her like this before. It was… unexpectedly endearing. “I should be the one apologizing,” he added, voice lower now. “I… didn't let you rest last nig—” "It’s alright, I’m fine!" Althea almost shoved her face into her pillow. How could Daven say such things? She didn’t know how to face him anymore. For a while, neither spoke. In that rare moment of quiet and warmth, time seemed to slowly pass by. And something between them seemed to quietly change. Althea knew she couldn’t stay here much longer. She finally cleared her throat and said softly, “I should head back to my room. If you don’t mind waiting a little, I’ll prepare breakfast quickly.” “I’ll wait,” Daven replied without hesitation. “I’ve still got some work to finish, anyway.” Althea nodded. “Alright then.” But just as she stepped toward the door, the sharp clack of high heels echoed from the hallway—followed by the door flinging open with force. “DAVEN?!”

“Let me be your real wife for one month… in bed.” The moment Vanessa, my husband Daven's first love, returned, he asked for a divorce. I made my last request. For thirty nights, he held me like I mattered. On the thirty-first day, I left before sunrise. That afternoon, the news broke: [Billionaire Daven offers his entire fortune for any information about his missing wife.] - “Just one month ... Let me be your wife.”Althea said calmly Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” “I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife.” Silence fell. Then a dismissive laugh escaped Daven’s lips. Daven Callister, her husband, had never loved her. Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. It was Daven’s grandmother who demanded the marriage as a form of atonement for Daven’s role in her mother’s death. But now, with his grandmother taken by illness two weeks ago, Daven finally saw a chance to escape the marriage he had never wanted. Daven wiped the corner of his eye, amused at how absurd her request sounded. What on earth was she thinking? One month? The idea was laughable. Daven took a step toward her, closing the distance. His eyes scanned her face, as if trying to decipher a hidden agenda. Maybe his mother had been all along—maybe Althea was just after the wealth tied to his name. Who didn’t know Daven Callister? CEO of Callister Enterprise, one of the most influential young businessmen in Migathan City. People competed just to get close to him, especially women who thirsted for his attention. But Daven only loved one woman—and it wasn’t his wife. It was someone else entirely—Vanessa Blake, a rising supermodel whose name was lighting up the fashion world. “What makes you think I’d even consider that?” he asked, his voice cold, laced with disbelief. She gave a small nod. “I’m not asking for your love.” she said with a bitter laugh. “All I’m asking is to be treated properly—as your wife. Have dinner with me. Exchange a few words with me every day. Show me a little affection, even if it’s fake.” Her hands clenched into fists to keep herself steady. “After that, I’ll walk away quietly. You’ll be free to marry anyone you want.” Daven squinted, unsure whether to laugh harder or feel irritated. Yet beneath his disbelief, something in her words struck a nerve. A simple request—so painfully simple, it piqued his curiosity. What is Althea's real purpose? This time, Daven’s gaze wasn’t as sharp. He looked at the woman before him with an unreadable expression. Was it confusion? Annoyance? Or... curiosity? “I’m not promising to be nice,” he finally said. “I never expected you to change,” Althea answered, her calmness more shattering than tears ever could be. And with that, an unspoken agreement was formed. One month. Thirty days for Althea to live as the wife of Daven Callister. A reality that should have existed a year ago—ever since their wedding day. “Only one month, Althea,” Daven warned. “After that, you disappear from my sight.” “I understand exactly what I’m asking for, Daven. You don’t have to worry.” -- “Are you out of your mind?” Catherine Callister—more commonly known as Kate—snapped, her shrill voice shattering the silence of the back garden. The lightweight plastic watering can Althea had been using to water the white roses fell from her hand and shattered upon hitting the sharp-edged stone tiles. “How dare you make such a shameless request?” Kate continued, her voice seething with rage. Her eyes blazed. “You’re well aware my son is about to marry Vanessa, aren’t you? Yet you still have the audacity to beg for Daven’s attention?” Althea gave a faint smile. It was the kind of smile that whispered warmth in the middle of a storm. “I’m not asking for Daven’s love, Mrs. Callister,” she replied, her voice soft yet laced with a steely kind of courtesy. “All I asked for was time. Thirty days of his time.” “And what do you think you can accomplish in thirty days, huh?” Kate stepped forward, the heel of her designer shoe crunching over the broken watering can with a sharp, splintering sound. “Daven loves Vanessa. You’re just a pathetic orphan, nothing more than an obstacle standing in their way.” Althea exhaled slowly, then she looked straight into her mother-in-law’s eyes. Her gaze was still calm—but this time, it carried an unmistakable strength. “I never wanted to get in anyone’s way,” she said quietly. “But I’m not something to be discarded either. Yes, I’m nothing more than a girl with nothing—no wealth, no power, no name. But I still have my dignity, Mrs. Callister. And all I want is to hold on to that.” Kate opened her mouth to retort again, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her. Daven appeared from behind the glass doors of the house, his suit still perfectly in place. The weariness from a long day’s work was evident on his face. He glanced briefly between the two women before speaking in a flat tone, “Is there a problem?” Kate turned to him, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Of course, there’s a problem. Your precious wife made an absurd request, and you—” she pointed a manicured finger at him, “—you agreed to it?” Daven didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on Althea. She didn’t say a word, but he knew she wouldn’t deny it. She wasn’t like the rest of the people in this house, hiding their motives behind masks. “She only asked for my time, Mother. Just one month,” Daven said at last. “And I agreed. Vanessa is willing to give me that time.” Kate hissed under her breath, then turned away sharply. “I will never see you as part of this family,” she spat before disappearing down the hallway, her footsteps sharp and swift—like every word she had just hurled. Althea let out a long breath once the woman’s figure vanished from sight. Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them beneath the folds of her dress. Only one figure remained, still standing there, watching her with that same cold stare—like she was nothing more than a discarded object. “I didn’t realize my wife was so stubborn,” Daven mocked. “Do you want to be my wife that badly?” He let out a scoffing chuckle, laced with disdain. “Do you regret agreeing to my request?” Althea asked softly, her gaze gentle but clouded with pain and disappointment. Daven held her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. “No. But I still think it’s ridiculous.” “That’s fine,” Althea said, forcing a smile that barely reached her eyes. “What matters is... I won’t regret it.” For a moment, the only sound between them was the breeze. Daven turned his face away, though his eyes lingered on her cheeks, flushed under the afternoon sun—or perhaps from holding back tears she refused to shed. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away. But just before he vanished through the doorway, his voice called out behind him. “If you’re this insistent... does that mean you’re ready to share my bed tonight, Althea? Isn’t that what you wanted— to become my wife in every sense of the word?” Althea blinked, stunned. She was the one who had made that request, after all—asking to truly be his wife. Which meant... he had the right to touch her. For the next thirty days. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Yes,” she answered, her voice firm. She couldn’t back down now, could she? Even if the thought alone made her body tremble with fear. Daven inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. “Too bad,” he said at last, voice flat. “I’m not interested.” She took a step back, instinctively. His voice was low, dangerously calm. He reached out, fingers brushing her chin—not tenderly, but not cruelly either. Just enough to force her gaze upward. “Tomorrow night,” he said, gaze locked on hers, “I’ll come home not as the man you married on paper—but as the husband you insisted, I become.” Althea’s breath hitched. Her hands curled into fists beside her dress, but she didn’t look away. “I hope you’re ready,” Daven added, pulling back just slightly. “Because I won’t stop to ask if you’ve changed your mind.” *** The sky was already dark when Daven Callister unlocked the door, the familiar click echoing through the silence of the grand house—quiet, yet resounding. His black shoes clicked against the marble floor of the foyer, and the dark grey suit he wore looked slightly rumpled. He sighed, loosening his tie with a lazy tug before stepping further inside. The lights in the main room were still on, casting a warm glow that stood in stark contrast to the cold air outside. “Welcome home, Daven.” His steps halted. Althea stood at the entrance to the dining room, dressed in a simple beige house dress. Her hair was pinned up neatly, with a few soft strands framing her face. She smiled—wide and sincere—her warm brown eyes looking at her husband as if nothing was wrong. For a moment, Daven just looked back at her. Normally, he would have ignored that greeting. But tonight, he couldn’t brush Althea off so easily. “I made dinner,” she said. “I heard the weather’s been chilly today, so I thought you’d like some beef soup and warm bread.” Her words made Daven glance at the dining table. Dinner was set with care: a bowl of steaming soup, homemade bread, and a small plate of salad arranged delicately. A single lit candle stood at the center, casting a soft glow and shadows on the wall. Daven exhaled quietly. “I already ate.” Althea nodded. “That’s okay. But it’d be a shame to let it go cold and to waste. You could try a little.” Her tone was light, not insistent. But for some reason, Daven pulled out a chair and sat down without complaint. Althea took the seat across from him, her hands busy pouring water into a glass. “Go ahead,” she said gently. She didn’t touch her own food, just watched him with a calm gaze. “How was your day?” she asked softly. “Did the morning meeting go well?” Daven picked up the spoon, slowly tasted the soup, and swallowed without replying. Althea offered a faint smile. She understood. Daven wasn’t the kind of man who opened up easily, especially not to someone he considered a wife only because of circumstance. “I heard about the Korean textile merger that’s planning to expand into Mighatan. Aren’t they considered a competitor to Callister Enterprise?” Daven’s head lifted slightly. “Not a direct competitor,” he muttered. “But they do have ties to the raw material markets we’ve been targeting.” Althea nodded thoughtfully. “I thought you’d approach it with an alliance strategy, not competition.” Daven paused mid-bite. There was a moment of silence before he set the spoon down slowly. “You understand quite a bit.” “Some news portals have been covering it. I’ve just been following along a little.” Daven raised an eyebrow slightly. He didn’t say anything, but for the first time in a long while, he looked at Althea—not with disdain or irritation, but with a flicker of interest. Althea smiled, “I want to understand some of the things that make up your world. At the very least… if I’m going to leave one day, I want to go knowing who you really are.” The word “leave” hung in the air like a heavy night fog. Daven said nothing. Instead, he picked up his spoon again and finished the soup in his bowl. A long silence settled between them—comforting in a way neither of them could quite define. Until finally, Daven spoke—his tone as flat as usual, though this time, not as cold. “In two days, there’s a dinner at the Mighatan Embassy. The Japanese Ambassador will be attending.” Althea turned to him slowly. “Sounds like an important meeting.” “The Japanese Ambassador has taken a particular interest in Callister Enterprise. He extended a personal invitation.” “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Althea’s voice carried a hint of enthusiasm. “They invited me... with a partner.” She was still smiling. “You can do that, Daven.” “My wife.” Althea went quiet. “I’ve been asked to attend with my wife, Althea.” Those words rendered her speechless. A sharp, unexplainable ache bloomed in her chest. It had already seemed certain that Daven would go with Vanessa. And why was he telling her this? Just to remind her of her place? Even without being told, Althea was painfully aware of who she was in this house. “Get ready to attend the event, Althea.” Daven rose from his seat, resting a hand on the table before walking toward the stairs. But just before he disappeared from sight, he spoke again—without turning back: “The soup was good.” She hadn’t processed what he’d said yet. Not fully. But... “He asked me to go as his wife?” Althea muttered, pressing her palms to her warming cheeks. Her lips curved slightly. So it really was going smoother than she’d expected. *** She stared at her reflection in the tall mirror. The gown she wore was a gift from Evelyn Callyster—a kind, warm-hearted woman who had been so close to her. Her passing had left a deep emptiness in Althea’s heart. Just like the time she lost her own mother, who took her final breath after suffering a fatal head injury in that accident, Althea hadn’t been able to stop crying. Evelyn had quietly purchased several elegant dresses for her, saying that maybe one day, Althea would attend a formal event alongside Daven. Sadly, that day had never come. Until tonight. The gown was a pale gold, shimmering subtly under the light, flowing over her body with a graceful, understated cut. The neckline was bare, adorned only by a delicate pearl necklace—her mother’s last keepsake. Althea’s hair was styled into a low chignon, neat yet soft, framing her face. Her makeup was light, just enough to highlight the calm in her eyes and the gentle curve of her smile. She didn’t look like a woman from a modest background. Tonight, Althea Grayson looked every bit like a noblewoman stepped out of a classic tale. “Please… let this evening pass without incident,” she whispered to herself, trying to summon courage. When she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the main hall, Daven was already there, standing while checking his phone, as though his world was far too full to notice anything else. The soft tap of heels broke the silence. He froze. His eyes lifted, and his expression shifted ever so slightly. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze lingered on her. His hand lowered, the phone forgotten, and a faint crease formed between his brows. For the first time, he seemed unsure of what to say. Althea approached, a small smile still gracing her lips. “Have you… been waiting long?” “No,” Daven replied curtly. “Is… is this dress too much?” she asked, a bit nervous under the weight of his stare—he had never looked at her quite like this before. “If it is, I can change into something else.” “There’s no need,” he answered quietly. “Let’s go. The car’s waiting.” On the way, Daven remained mostly silent. But unlike usual, he didn’t distance himself. He sat calmly beside her, and for the first time, didn’t recoil when Althea instinctively reached out to adjust his tie. Her hand paused as her fingers brushed against his collar. Their eyes met—just for a moment—but it was enough to make Daven inhale sharply and turn his face toward the window. “Ah, I’m sorry,” Althea said quickly, pulling her hand away to give him space. Daven still said nothing. “I won’t stand too close to you tonight,” she said eventually, her voice steady but careful. “Since you’ll soon be marrying Vanessa, I think it’s only right for me to know my place.” Daven turned slowly, his gaze sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I’ll just stay slightly behind you,” she explained softly, with a faint smile, trying to sound reasonable. “Enough for you to know I’m there… but not in the way. I don’t want to cause any misunderstandings.” Daven closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his voice low and cold. “If you dare step away from me or pretend, you’re not my wife in front of them,” he said in a quiet, threatening tone, “you’ll regret it.” Althea froze. She stared at him, uncertain of what she had just heard. “Daven, I only—” “There’s no ‘only,’” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Tonight, you’ll stand beside me. As my wife. As you should.” A heavy silence fell between them. Althea lowered her gaze, letting a few strands of hair fall to shield her face—and a faint, unreadable smile curved her lips.

“Let me be your real wife for one month… in bed.” The moment Vanessa, my husband Daven's first love, returned, he asked for a divorce. I made my last request. For thirty nights, he held me like I mattered. On the thirty-first day, I left before sunrise. That afternoon, the news broke: [Billionaire Daven offers his entire fortune for any information about his missing wife.] - “Just one month ... Let me be your wife.”Althea said calmly Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” “I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife.” Silence fell. Then a dismissive laugh escaped Daven’s lips. Daven Callister, her husband, had never loved her. Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. It was Daven’s grandmother who demanded the marriage as a form of atonement for Daven’s role in her mother’s death. But now, with his grandmother taken by illness two weeks ago, Daven finally saw a chance to escape the marriage he had never wanted. Daven wiped the corner of his eye, amused at how absurd her request sounded. What on earth was she thinking? One month? The idea was laughable. Daven took a step toward her, closing the distance. His eyes scanned her face, as if trying to decipher a hidden agenda. Maybe his mother had been all along—maybe Althea was just after the wealth tied to his name. Who didn’t know Daven Callister? CEO of Callister Enterprise, one of the most influential young businessmen in Migathan City. People competed just to get close to him, especially women who thirsted for his attention. But Daven only loved one woman—and it wasn’t his wife. It was someone else entirely—Vanessa Blake, a rising supermodel whose name was lighting up the fashion world. “What makes you think I’d even consider that?” he asked, his voice cold, laced with disbelief. She gave a small nod. “I’m not asking for your love.” she said with a bitter laugh. “All I’m asking is to be treated properly—as your wife. Have dinner with me. Exchange a few words with me every day. Show me a little affection, even if it’s fake.” Her hands clenched into fists to keep herself steady. “After that, I’ll walk away quietly. You’ll be free to marry anyone you want.” Daven squinted, unsure whether to laugh harder or feel irritated. Yet beneath his disbelief, something in her words struck a nerve. A simple request—so painfully simple, it piqued his curiosity. What is Althea's real purpose? This time, Daven’s gaze wasn’t as sharp. He looked at the woman before him with an unreadable expression. Was it confusion? Annoyance? Or... curiosity? “I’m not promising to be nice,” he finally said. “I never expected you to change,” Althea answered, her calmness more shattering than tears ever could be. And with that, an unspoken agreement was formed. One month. Thirty days for Althea to live as the wife of Daven Callister. A reality that should have existed a year ago—ever since their wedding day. “Only one month, Althea,” Daven warned. “After that, you disappear from my sight.” “I understand exactly what I’m asking for, Daven. You don’t have to worry.” -- “Are you out of your mind?” Catherine Callister—more commonly known as Kate—snapped, her shrill voice shattering the silence of the back garden. The lightweight plastic watering can Althea had been using to water the white roses fell from her hand and shattered upon hitting the sharp-edged stone tiles. “How dare you make such a shameless request?” Kate continued, her voice seething with rage. Her eyes blazed. “You’re well aware my son is about to marry Vanessa, aren’t you? Yet you still have the audacity to beg for Daven’s attention?” Althea gave a faint smile. It was the kind of smile that whispered warmth in the middle of a storm. “I’m not asking for Daven’s love, Mrs. Callister,” she replied, her voice soft yet laced with a steely kind of courtesy. “All I asked for was time. Thirty days of his time.” “And what do you think you can accomplish in thirty days, huh?” Kate stepped forward, the heel of her designer shoe crunching over the broken watering can with a sharp, splintering sound. “Daven loves Vanessa. You’re just a pathetic orphan, nothing more than an obstacle standing in their way.” Althea exhaled slowly, then she looked straight into her mother-in-law’s eyes. Her gaze was still calm—but this time, it carried an unmistakable strength. “I never wanted to get in anyone’s way,” she said quietly. “But I’m not something to be discarded either. Yes, I’m nothing more than a girl with nothing—no wealth, no power, no name. But I still have my dignity, Mrs. Callister. And all I want is to hold on to that.” Kate opened her mouth to retort again, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her. Daven appeared from behind the glass doors of the house, his suit still perfectly in place. The weariness from a long day’s work was evident on his face. He glanced briefly between the two women before speaking in a flat tone, “Is there a problem?” Kate turned to him, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Of course, there’s a problem. Your precious wife made an absurd request, and you—” she pointed a manicured finger at him, “—you agreed to it?” Daven didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on Althea. She didn’t say a word, but he knew she wouldn’t deny it. She wasn’t like the rest of the people in this house, hiding their motives behind masks. “She only asked for my time, Mother. Just one month,” Daven said at last. “And I agreed. Vanessa is willing to give me that time.” Kate hissed under her breath, then turned away sharply. “I will never see you as part of this family,” she spat before disappearing down the hallway, her footsteps sharp and swift—like every word she had just hurled. Althea let out a long breath once the woman’s figure vanished from sight. Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them beneath the folds of her dress. Only one figure remained, still standing there, watching her with that same cold stare—like she was nothing more than a discarded object. “I didn’t realize my wife was so stubborn,” Daven mocked. “Do you want to be my wife that badly?” He let out a scoffing chuckle, laced with disdain. “Do you regret agreeing to my request?” Althea asked softly, her gaze gentle but clouded with pain and disappointment. Daven held her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. “No. But I still think it’s ridiculous.” “That’s fine,” Althea said, forcing a smile that barely reached her eyes. “What matters is... I won’t regret it.” For a moment, the only sound between them was the breeze. Daven turned his face away, though his eyes lingered on her cheeks, flushed under the afternoon sun—or perhaps from holding back tears she refused to shed. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away. But just before he vanished through the doorway, his voice called out behind him. “If you’re this insistent... does that mean you’re ready to share my bed tonight, Althea? Isn’t that what you wanted— to become my wife in every sense of the word?” Althea blinked, stunned. She was the one who had made that request, after all—asking to truly be his wife. Which meant... he had the right to touch her. For the next thirty days. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Yes,” she answered, her voice firm. She couldn’t back down now, could she? Even if the thought alone made her body tremble with fear. Daven inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. “Too bad,” he said at last, voice flat. “I’m not interested.” She took a step back, instinctively. His voice was low, dangerously calm. He reached out, fingers brushing her chin—not tenderly, but not cruelly either. Just enough to force her gaze upward. “Tomorrow night,” he said, gaze locked on hers, “I’ll come home not as the man you married on paper—but as the husband you insisted, I become.” Althea’s breath hitched. Her hands curled into fists beside her dress, but she didn’t look away. “I hope you’re ready,” Daven added, pulling back just slightly. “Because I won’t stop to ask if you’ve changed your mind.” *** The sky was already dark when Daven Callister unlocked the door, the familiar click echoing through the silence of the grand house—quiet, yet resounding. His black shoes clicked against the marble floor of the foyer, and the dark grey suit he wore looked slightly rumpled. He sighed, loosening his tie with a lazy tug before stepping further inside. The lights in the main room were still on, casting a warm glow that stood in stark contrast to the cold air outside. “Welcome home, Daven.” His steps halted. Althea stood at the entrance to the dining room, dressed in a simple beige house dress. Her hair was pinned up neatly, with a few soft strands framing her face. She smiled—wide and sincere—her warm brown eyes looking at her husband as if nothing was wrong. For a moment, Daven just looked back at her. Normally, he would have ignored that greeting. But tonight, he couldn’t brush Althea off so easily. “I made dinner,” she said. “I heard the weather’s been chilly today, so I thought you’d like some beef soup and warm bread.” Her words made Daven glance at the dining table. Dinner was set with care: a bowl of steaming soup, homemade bread, and a small plate of salad arranged delicately. A single lit candle stood at the center, casting a soft glow and shadows on the wall. Daven exhaled quietly. “I already ate.” Althea nodded. “That’s okay. But it’d be a shame to let it go cold and to waste. You could try a little.” Her tone was light, not insistent. But for some reason, Daven pulled out a chair and sat down without complaint. Althea took the seat across from him, her hands busy pouring water into a glass. “Go ahead,” she said gently. She didn’t touch her own food, just watched him with a calm gaze. “How was your day?” she asked softly. “Did the morning meeting go well?” Daven picked up the spoon, slowly tasted the soup, and swallowed without replying. Althea offered a faint smile. She understood. Daven wasn’t the kind of man who opened up easily, especially not to someone he considered a wife only because of circumstance. “I heard about the Korean textile merger that’s planning to expand into Mighatan. Aren’t they considered a competitor to Callister Enterprise?” Daven’s head lifted slightly. “Not a direct competitor,” he muttered. “But they do have ties to the raw material markets we’ve been targeting.” Althea nodded thoughtfully. “I thought you’d approach it with an alliance strategy, not competition.” Daven paused mid-bite. There was a moment of silence before he set the spoon down slowly. “You understand quite a bit.” “Some news portals have been covering it. I’ve just been following along a little.” Daven raised an eyebrow slightly. He didn’t say anything, but for the first time in a long while, he looked at Althea—not with disdain or irritation, but with a flicker of interest. Althea smiled, “I want to understand some of the things that make up your world. At the very least… if I’m going to leave one day, I want to go knowing who you really are.” The word “leave” hung in the air like a heavy night fog. Daven said nothing. Instead, he picked up his spoon again and finished the soup in his bowl. A long silence settled between them—comforting in a way neither of them could quite define. Until finally, Daven spoke—his tone as flat as usual, though this time, not as cold. “In two days, there’s a dinner at the Mighatan Embassy. The Japanese Ambassador will be attending.” Althea turned to him slowly. “Sounds like an important meeting.” “The Japanese Ambassador has taken a particular interest in Callister Enterprise. He extended a personal invitation.” “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Althea’s voice carried a hint of enthusiasm. “They invited me... with a partner.” She was still smiling. “You can do that, Daven.” “My wife.” Althea went quiet. “I’ve been asked to attend with my wife, Althea.” Those words rendered her speechless. A sharp, unexplainable ache bloomed in her chest. It had already seemed certain that Daven would go with Vanessa. And why was he telling her this? Just to remind her of her place? Even without being told, Althea was painfully aware of who she was in this house. “Get ready to attend the event, Althea.” Daven rose from his seat, resting a hand on the table before walking toward the stairs. But just before he disappeared from sight, he spoke again—without turning back: “The soup was good.” She hadn’t processed what he’d said yet. Not fully. But... “He asked me to go as his wife?” Althea muttered, pressing her palms to her warming cheeks. Her lips curved slightly. So it really was going smoother than she’d expected. *** She stared at her reflection in the tall mirror. The gown she wore was a gift from Evelyn Callyster—a kind, warm-hearted woman who had been so close to her. Her passing had left a deep emptiness in Althea’s heart. Just like the time she lost her own mother, who took her final breath after suffering a fatal head injury in that accident, Althea hadn’t been able to stop crying. Evelyn had quietly purchased several elegant dresses for her, saying that maybe one day, Althea would attend a formal event alongside Daven. Sadly, that day had never come. Until tonight. The gown was a pale gold, shimmering subtly under the light, flowing over her body with a graceful, understated cut. The neckline was bare, adorned only by a delicate pearl necklace—her mother’s last keepsake. Althea’s hair was styled into a low chignon, neat yet soft, framing her face. Her makeup was light, just enough to highlight the calm in her eyes and the gentle curve of her smile. She didn’t look like a woman from a modest background. Tonight, Althea Grayson looked every bit like a noblewoman stepped out of a classic tale. “Please… let this evening pass without incident,” she whispered to herself, trying to summon courage. When she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the main hall, Daven was already there, standing while checking his phone, as though his world was far too full to notice anything else. The soft tap of heels broke the silence. He froze. His eyes lifted, and his expression shifted ever so slightly. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze lingered on her. His hand lowered, the phone forgotten, and a faint crease formed between his brows. For the first time, he seemed unsure of what to say. Althea approached, a small smile still gracing her lips. “Have you… been waiting long?” “No,” Daven replied curtly. “Is… is this dress too much?” she asked, a bit nervous under the weight of his stare—he had never looked at her quite like this before. “If it is, I can change into something else.” “There’s no need,” he answered quietly. “Let’s go. The car’s waiting.” On the way, Daven remained mostly silent. But unlike usual, he didn’t distance himself. He sat calmly beside her, and for the first time, didn’t recoil when Althea instinctively reached out to adjust his tie. Her hand paused as her fingers brushed against his collar. Their eyes met—just for a moment—but it was enough to make Daven inhale sharply and turn his face toward the window. “Ah, I’m sorry,” Althea said quickly, pulling her hand away to give him space. Daven still said nothing. “I won’t stand too close to you tonight,” she said eventually, her voice steady but careful. “Since you’ll soon be marrying Vanessa, I think it’s only right for me to know my place.” Daven turned slowly, his gaze sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I’ll just stay slightly behind you,” she explained softly, with a faint smile, trying to sound reasonable. “Enough for you to know I’m there… but not in the way. I don’t want to cause any misunderstandings.” Daven closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his voice low and cold. “If you dare step away from me or pretend, you’re not my wife in front of them,” he said in a quiet, threatening tone, “you’ll regret it.” Althea froze. She stared at him, uncertain of what she had just heard. “Daven, I only—” “There’s no ‘only,’” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Tonight, you’ll stand beside me. As my wife. As you should.” A heavy silence fell between them. Althea lowered her gaze, letting a few strands of hair fall to shield her face—and a faint, unreadable smile curved her lips.

“Let me be your real wife for one month… in bed.” The moment Vanessa, my husband Daven's first love, returned, he asked for a divorce. I made my last request. For thirty nights, he held me like I mattered. On the thirty-first day, I left before sunrise. That afternoon, the news broke: [Billionaire Daven offers his entire fortune for any information about his missing wife.] - “Just one month ... Let me be your wife.”Althea said calmly Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” “I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife.” Silence fell. Then a dismissive laugh escaped Daven’s lips. Daven Callister, her husband, had never loved her. Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. It was Daven’s grandmother who demanded the marriage as a form of atonement for Daven’s role in her mother’s death. But now, with his grandmother taken by illness two weeks ago, Daven finally saw a chance to escape the marriage he had never wanted. Daven wiped the corner of his eye, amused at how absurd her request sounded. What on earth was she thinking? One month? The idea was laughable. Daven took a step toward her, closing the distance. His eyes scanned her face, as if trying to decipher a hidden agenda. Maybe his mother had been all along—maybe Althea was just after the wealth tied to his name. Who didn’t know Daven Callister? CEO of Callister Enterprise, one of the most influential young businessmen in Migathan City. People competed just to get close to him, especially women who thirsted for his attention. But Daven only loved one woman—and it wasn’t his wife. It was someone else entirely—Vanessa Blake, a rising supermodel whose name was lighting up the fashion world. “What makes you think I’d even consider that?” he asked, his voice cold, laced with disbelief. She gave a small nod. “I’m not asking for your love.” she said with a bitter laugh. “All I’m asking is to be treated properly—as your wife. Have dinner with me. Exchange a few words with me every day. Show me a little affection, even if it’s fake.” Her hands clenched into fists to keep herself steady. “After that, I’ll walk away quietly. You’ll be free to marry anyone you want.” Daven squinted, unsure whether to laugh harder or feel irritated. Yet beneath his disbelief, something in her words struck a nerve. A simple request—so painfully simple, it piqued his curiosity. What is Althea's real purpose? This time, Daven’s gaze wasn’t as sharp. He looked at the woman before him with an unreadable expression. Was it confusion? Annoyance? Or... curiosity? “I’m not promising to be nice,” he finally said. “I never expected you to change,” Althea answered, her calmness more shattering than tears ever could be. And with that, an unspoken agreement was formed. One month. Thirty days for Althea to live as the wife of Daven Callister. A reality that should have existed a year ago—ever since their wedding day. “Only one month, Althea,” Daven warned. “After that, you disappear from my sight.” “I understand exactly what I’m asking for, Daven. You don’t have to worry.” -- “Are you out of your mind?” Catherine Callister—more commonly known as Kate—snapped, her shrill voice shattering the silence of the back garden. The lightweight plastic watering can Althea had been using to water the white roses fell from her hand and shattered upon hitting the sharp-edged stone tiles. “How dare you make such a shameless request?” Kate continued, her voice seething with rage. Her eyes blazed. “You’re well aware my son is about to marry Vanessa, aren’t you? Yet you still have the audacity to beg for Daven’s attention?” Althea gave a faint smile. It was the kind of smile that whispered warmth in the middle of a storm. “I’m not asking for Daven’s love, Mrs. Callister,” she replied, her voice soft yet laced with a steely kind of courtesy. “All I asked for was time. Thirty days of his time.” “And what do you think you can accomplish in thirty days, huh?” Kate stepped forward, the heel of her designer shoe crunching over the broken watering can with a sharp, splintering sound. “Daven loves Vanessa. You’re just a pathetic orphan, nothing more than an obstacle standing in their way.” Althea exhaled slowly, then she looked straight into her mother-in-law’s eyes. Her gaze was still calm—but this time, it carried an unmistakable strength. “I never wanted to get in anyone’s way,” she said quietly. “But I’m not something to be discarded either. Yes, I’m nothing more than a girl with nothing—no wealth, no power, no name. But I still have my dignity, Mrs. Callister. And all I want is to hold on to that.” Kate opened her mouth to retort again, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her. Daven appeared from behind the glass doors of the house, his suit still perfectly in place. The weariness from a long day’s work was evident on his face. He glanced briefly between the two women before speaking in a flat tone, “Is there a problem?” Kate turned to him, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Of course, there’s a problem. Your precious wife made an absurd request, and you—” she pointed a manicured finger at him, “—you agreed to it?” Daven didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on Althea. She didn’t say a word, but he knew she wouldn’t deny it. She wasn’t like the rest of the people in this house, hiding their motives behind masks. “She only asked for my time, Mother. Just one month,” Daven said at last. “And I agreed. Vanessa is willing to give me that time.” Kate hissed under her breath, then turned away sharply. “I will never see you as part of this family,” she spat before disappearing down the hallway, her footsteps sharp and swift—like every word she had just hurled. Althea let out a long breath once the woman’s figure vanished from sight. Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them beneath the folds of her dress. Only one figure remained, still standing there, watching her with that same cold stare—like she was nothing more than a discarded object. “I didn’t realize my wife was so stubborn,” Daven mocked. “Do you want to be my wife that badly?” He let out a scoffing chuckle, laced with disdain. “Do you regret agreeing to my request?” Althea asked softly, her gaze gentle but clouded with pain and disappointment. Daven held her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. “No. But I still think it’s ridiculous.” “That’s fine,” Althea said, forcing a smile that barely reached her eyes. “What matters is... I won’t regret it.” For a moment, the only sound between them was the breeze. Daven turned his face away, though his eyes lingered on her cheeks, flushed under the afternoon sun—or perhaps from holding back tears she refused to shed. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away. But just before he vanished through the doorway, his voice called out behind him. “If you’re this insistent... does that mean you’re ready to share my bed tonight, Althea? Isn’t that what you wanted— to become my wife in every sense of the word?” Althea blinked, stunned. She was the one who had made that request, after all—asking to truly be his wife. Which meant... he had the right to touch her. For the next thirty days. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Yes,” she answered, her voice firm. She couldn’t back down now, could she? Even if the thought alone made her body tremble with fear. Daven inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. “Too bad,” he said at last, voice flat. “I’m not interested.” She took a step back, instinctively. His voice was low, dangerously calm. He reached out, fingers brushing her chin—not tenderly, but not cruelly either. Just enough to force her gaze upward. “Tomorrow night,” he said, gaze locked on hers, “I’ll come home not as the man you married on paper—but as the husband you insisted, I become.” Althea’s breath hitched. Her hands curled into fists beside her dress, but she didn’t look away. “I hope you’re ready,” Daven added, pulling back just slightly. “Because I won’t stop to ask if you’ve changed your mind.” *** The sky was already dark when Daven Callister unlocked the door, the familiar click echoing through the silence of the grand house—quiet, yet resounding. His black shoes clicked against the marble floor of the foyer, and the dark grey suit he wore looked slightly rumpled. He sighed, loosening his tie with a lazy tug before stepping further inside. The lights in the main room were still on, casting a warm glow that stood in stark contrast to the cold air outside. “Welcome home, Daven.” His steps halted. Althea stood at the entrance to the dining room, dressed in a simple beige house dress. Her hair was pinned up neatly, with a few soft strands framing her face. She smiled—wide and sincere—her warm brown eyes looking at her husband as if nothing was wrong. For a moment, Daven just looked back at her. Normally, he would have ignored that greeting. But tonight, he couldn’t brush Althea off so easily. “I made dinner,” she said. “I heard the weather’s been chilly today, so I thought you’d like some beef soup and warm bread.” Her words made Daven glance at the dining table. Dinner was set with care: a bowl of steaming soup, homemade bread, and a small plate of salad arranged delicately. A single lit candle stood at the center, casting a soft glow and shadows on the wall. Daven exhaled quietly. “I already ate.” Althea nodded. “That’s okay. But it’d be a shame to let it go cold and to waste. You could try a little.” Her tone was light, not insistent. But for some reason, Daven pulled out a chair and sat down without complaint. Althea took the seat across from him, her hands busy pouring water into a glass. “Go ahead,” she said gently. She didn’t touch her own food, just watched him with a calm gaze. “How was your day?” she asked softly. “Did the morning meeting go well?” Daven picked up the spoon, slowly tasted the soup, and swallowed without replying. Althea offered a faint smile. She understood. Daven wasn’t the kind of man who opened up easily, especially not to someone he considered a wife only because of circumstance. “I heard about the Korean textile merger that’s planning to expand into Mighatan. Aren’t they considered a competitor to Callister Enterprise?” Daven’s head lifted slightly. “Not a direct competitor,” he muttered. “But they do have ties to the raw material markets we’ve been targeting.” Althea nodded thoughtfully. “I thought you’d approach it with an alliance strategy, not competition.” Daven paused mid-bite. There was a moment of silence before he set the spoon down slowly. “You understand quite a bit.” “Some news portals have been covering it. I’ve just been following along a little.” Daven raised an eyebrow slightly. He didn’t say anything, but for the first time in a long while, he looked at Althea—not with disdain or irritation, but with a flicker of interest. Althea smiled, “I want to understand some of the things that make up your world. At the very least… if I’m going to leave one day, I want to go knowing who you really are.” The word “leave” hung in the air like a heavy night fog. Daven said nothing. Instead, he picked up his spoon again and finished the soup in his bowl. A long silence settled between them—comforting in a way neither of them could quite define. Until finally, Daven spoke—his tone as flat as usual, though this time, not as cold. “In two days, there’s a dinner at the Mighatan Embassy. The Japanese Ambassador will be attending.” Althea turned to him slowly. “Sounds like an important meeting.” “The Japanese Ambassador has taken a particular interest in Callister Enterprise. He extended a personal invitation.” “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Althea’s voice carried a hint of enthusiasm. “They invited me... with a partner.” She was still smiling. “You can do that, Daven.” “My wife.” Althea went quiet. “I’ve been asked to attend with my wife, Althea.” Those words rendered her speechless. A sharp, unexplainable ache bloomed in her chest. It had already seemed certain that Daven would go with Vanessa. And why was he telling her this? Just to remind her of her place? Even without being told, Althea was painfully aware of who she was in this house. “Get ready to attend the event, Althea.” Daven rose from his seat, resting a hand on the table before walking toward the stairs. But just before he disappeared from sight, he spoke again—without turning back: “The soup was good.” She hadn’t processed what he’d said yet. Not fully. But... “He asked me to go as his wife?” Althea muttered, pressing her palms to her warming cheeks. Her lips curved slightly. So it really was going smoother than she’d expected. *** She stared at her reflection in the tall mirror. The gown she wore was a gift from Evelyn Callyster—a kind, warm-hearted woman who had been so close to her. Her passing had left a deep emptiness in Althea’s heart. Just like the time she lost her own mother, who took her final breath after suffering a fatal head injury in that accident, Althea hadn’t been able to stop crying. Evelyn had quietly purchased several elegant dresses for her, saying that maybe one day, Althea would attend a formal event alongside Daven. Sadly, that day had never come. Until tonight. The gown was a pale gold, shimmering subtly under the light, flowing over her body with a graceful, understated cut. The neckline was bare, adorned only by a delicate pearl necklace—her mother’s last keepsake. Althea’s hair was styled into a low chignon, neat yet soft, framing her face. Her makeup was light, just enough to highlight the calm in her eyes and the gentle curve of her smile. She didn’t look like a woman from a modest background. Tonight, Althea Grayson looked every bit like a noblewoman stepped out of a classic tale. “Please… let this evening pass without incident,” she whispered to herself, trying to summon courage. When she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the main hall, Daven was already there, standing while checking his phone, as though his world was far too full to notice anything else. The soft tap of heels broke the silence. He froze. His eyes lifted, and his expression shifted ever so slightly. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze lingered on her. His hand lowered, the phone forgotten, and a faint crease formed between his brows. For the first time, he seemed unsure of what to say. Althea approached, a small smile still gracing her lips. “Have you… been waiting long?” “No,” Daven replied curtly. “Is… is this dress too much?” she asked, a bit nervous under the weight of his stare—he had never looked at her quite like this before. “If it is, I can change into something else.” “There’s no need,” he answered quietly. “Let’s go. The car’s waiting.” On the way, Daven remained mostly silent. But unlike usual, he didn’t distance himself. He sat calmly beside her, and for the first time, didn’t recoil when Althea instinctively reached out to adjust his tie. Her hand paused as her fingers brushed against his collar. Their eyes met—just for a moment—but it was enough to make Daven inhale sharply and turn his face toward the window. “Ah, I’m sorry,” Althea said quickly, pulling her hand away to give him space. Daven still said nothing. “I won’t stand too close to you tonight,” she said eventually, her voice steady but careful. “Since you’ll soon be marrying Vanessa, I think it’s only right for me to know my place.” Daven turned slowly, his gaze sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I’ll just stay slightly behind you,” she explained softly, with a faint smile, trying to sound reasonable. “Enough for you to know I’m there… but not in the way. I don’t want to cause any misunderstandings.” Daven closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his voice low and cold. “If you dare step away from me or pretend, you’re not my wife in front of them,” he said in a quiet, threatening tone, “you’ll regret it.” Althea froze. She stared at him, uncertain of what she had just heard. “Daven, I only—” “There’s no ‘only,’” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Tonight, you’ll stand beside me. As my wife. As you should.” A heavy silence fell between them. Althea lowered her gaze, letting a few strands of hair fall to shield her face—and a faint, unreadable smile curved her lips.