Chapter 1

1.

It all started when Grace had a fight with that woman.

Because of it, her husband―Nathan Crawford, the head of the Crawford Group―had her committed.

He claimed she was "emotionally unstable and prone to violence" and instructed the family's private psychiatrist to initiate a seventy-two-hour involuntary psychiatric hold.

After the observation period, he used his influence on the medical board to have it extended.

The family's wholly-owned Greenbrier Private Mental Health Center turned it into a one-month, closed-door "crisis intervention treatment."

When she got out, she had changed.

She became quiet, obedient, and virtuous, just as he'd wanted.

A perfect trophy wife for a wealthy family.

Nathan transferred most of the money from their joint trust account to Lily Ashford, and she didn't ask a single question.

Worried that Lily wasn't safe living alone, Nathan started spending his nights sitting in his car on her street, never coming home. She didn't make a scene.

Even when she decided to apply to a top-secret private aerospace research facility deep in the Nevada desert, she never told him. She didn't want to disturb him and Lily.

"Ms. Sullivan, your application has been approved. You'll enter the facility with the next group at the end of the month. But―" the voice on the phone paused. "You need to be absolutely sure. Once you go in, you might never come out. You'll spend your life buried in research, never seeing the outside world. You have a husband, a family. Are you certain?"

Grace held the phone, her voice soft but clear. "I'm certain. There's just… one thing I need your help with."

"What is it?"

"I need to dissolve my marriage with Nathan," Grace said quietly.

"I've already hired a lawyer and filed for an uncontested divorce in California. I'm waiving all claims to our shared assets and spousal support."

"But according to the law, even for an uncontested divorce, there's a six-month waiting period. I was hoping you could coordinate with the court to expedite the process from a security clearance perspective. After all, I'm about to join a top-secret project. A lingering marital status would be a security risk."

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"Grace, are you serious?" The person's tone was filled with shock. "We all know how much you used to care about Mr. Crawford. You..."

"That was before," Grace interrupted gently, her voice calm. "Now, I value my career more. I value myself more. Since I'm destined to leave, there's no point in dragging it out. Please, help me coordinate this."

"...Alright. Since you've made up your mind, we'll use our security clearance channels to push it through. Our legal department will handle the divorce papers to ensure everything is finalized before you start."

After hanging up, Grace let out a sigh of relief. She slowly looked up at the wedding photo hanging on the wall.

In the picture, she was in a white gown, smiling so wide her eyes crinkled, her arm linked with Nathan's.

Nathan wore a dark, custom-tailored suit, his platinum cufflinks gleaming. He stood tall, his expression neutral, but his eyes held a hint of warmth.

That had been the happiest day of her life.

Now, it just looked ironic.

She pulled over a chair, stood on it, took down the frame, and slid the photo out.

Then, piece by piece, she tore it into shreds.

And threw them in the trash.

Grace and Nathan met at a charity gala in the San Francisco Bay Area.

She was twenty-two, a recent MIT graduate with a double major in Physics and Applied Mathematics, working undercover as a teacher at a private school near the Crawford estate.

Her neighbor Susan, the wife of a veteran Silicon Valley venture capitalist, had invited her. That night, Susan pulled her aside and whispered.

"See that tall guy over there? Nathan Crawford. Thirty, single, the sole heir to the Crawford Group. Worth over ten billion. He's a man of few words, but at his level, who isn't?"

Grace followed Susan's gaze and understood what "worth over ten billion" looked like.

He was in a perfectly tailored dark blue suit, tall and imposing. His deep-set eyes and high-bridged nose made him stand out among the crowd of champagne-sipping business elites. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

There was no reason not to like him.

Their first date was at a Michelin-starred steakhouse on Nob Hill. He asked about her job and her family, then got straight to the point.

"I need to be upfront with you. My grandfather's will has a trust clause: I must be legally married by my thirtieth birthday, or the controlling shares of the Crawford Group will be handed over to a board of trustees. I need a wife to fulfill that contract."

Grace looked at him, not answering immediately.

"The terms are simple," Nathan continued, his tone like he was negotiating a merger.

"It's a three-year contract. You play the part of Mrs. Crawford, attend necessary social events, and maintain the family's image. In return, you'll receive a sum of money large enough that you'll never have to work again, plus access to the Crawford family's entire network. When the contract ends, we part amicably. No strings attached."

Grace looked down, swirling the ice in her glass.

She had her own reasons for saying yes―reasons she never told anyone.

"Also," Nathan added, "I'm not the romantic type. I'm not the guy who remembers every anniversary or buys surprise gifts."

"That's fine."

"Good." Nathan looked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile. "Honestly, I've interviewed a lot of candidates, but I feel comfortable with you. If the terms are agreeable, we can sign the papers next week."

Grace was taken aback.

So direct?

"I'm on a tight schedule. My thirtieth birthday is in two months," Nathan shrugged. "And with you, I feel… relaxed."

Relaxed. Comfortable.

The words stung a little, but looking at his face, she still nodded.

"Okay."

They signed the contract, and three weeks later, they were married in a church.

After the wedding, Grace put far more effort into their home than the contract required.

She learned to prepare nutritious meals for Nathan, memorizing the perfect balance of ingredients.

She packed his suitcases for business trips and turned their cold, massive Bay Area mansion into a warm home. She draped a patchwork quilt she found at an antique market over the sofa and placed a pot of rosemary on the kitchen windowsill.

Nathan was good to her, too. He gave her the PIN to their joint account and would talk to her when he came home. It wasn't much, but at least he wasn't as cold as people said.

Grace thought life would just go on like this.

Until the day Nathan got a call.

He was in the middle of dinner when his knife and fork clattered to the floor.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice trembling. "She's alive?!"

Grace couldn't hear what was said on the other end. She only saw Nathan's face turn pale, then flush, before he grabbed his coat and bolted out the door.

"Nathan! Where are you going?"

He didn't look back.

He was gone for a whole week.

When he returned, someone was with him.

A woman in a floral dress, with a gentle, pretty face, honey-colored curls, and an air of fragile vulnerability.

"Grace, this is Lily," Nathan introduced her, his voice holding a tenderness Grace had never heard before.

Grace's heart skipped a beat.

She had heard that name.

Nathan's first love.

Years ago, Lily had gotten into Juilliard. She broke up with Nathan to pursue her dream of becoming a concert pianist in New York.

Later, news came that the short-haul flight she took from Boston to New York had crashed. Everyone thought she was dead.

Nathan had been devastated for a long time. His family, desperate for him to move on, pushed him to find a new relationship―or at least, someone to fill the void.

And now, here she was. Alive.

That night, Nathan spoke to Grace, a rare occurrence.

"Grace, Lily has no other family. She needs a lot of help with things, so don't overthink it." He paused. "Don't worry. What we had is in the past. The contract is still valid; I won't end it early."

Grace looked at him and chose to believe him.

But she never imagined that Nathan's idea of "in the past" was completely different from hers.

After Lily's return, Nathan started "working late" frequently.

Grace brought him dinner at the corporate headquarters, but the receptionist would hesitantly say the CEO wasn't in. When she asked where he was, no one dared to say.

She later found out he was with Lily.

Lily craved a croissant from a French bakery on the west side of the city, so he drove across town to get it for her.

Lily said she wanted to have a picnic and fly a kite at a winery in Napa Valley, so he used up all his saved vacation days to spend the day with her.

Grace tolerated it once, twice, three times.

Until the day she was going through his suit pockets in the laundry room and found a movie ticket stub.

It was for a romance film.

The date was yesterday―her birthday.

She had waited up all night for him. He said he had an urgent board meeting.

Grace finally snapped. She went to the townhouse Lily was renting.

Lily was playing the piano. Seeing Grace, she smiled. "Grace? What brings you here?"

"Lily," Grace said, getting straight to the point. "Can you please keep some distance from Nathan? He's a married man."

Lily's expression shifted, then she smiled again. "Grace, you're overthinking things. Nathan and I are just friends. He's helping me out of sympathy, that's all."

"Sympathy that makes him stay out all night?" Grace's voice trembled. "Sympathy that makes him forget my birthday?"

"That was his choice. What does it have to do with me?"

Lily stood up and walked towards her, lowering her voice.

"Grace, do you know why Nathan married you? Because his grandfather's will forced him to. Because he needed someone to sign a contract and live under the same roof. His heart has only ever belonged to me. You're just a three-year contract, set to expire."

Grace was shaking with anger. Just as she was about to speak―

*Slap!*

Lily suddenly grabbed Grace's hand, pulled it to her own face, and then fell to the floor with a scream.

"Grace! You hit me?!"

The door burst open, and Nathan rushed in.

He saw Lily on the floor, a red mark on her cheek, tears streaming down her face.

Then he saw Grace, standing there with her hand raised.

"Nathan..." Lily sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. "Grace said I was seducing you, that I should stay away... I tried to explain, and she hit me..."

Nathan looked at Grace, his eyes as cold as ice.

"It wasn't like that!" Grace tried to explain. "She did it herself―"

"Enough," Nathan cut her off. "Grace, I can't believe you would do something like this."

"Nathan, you believe her and not me?"

"I believe what I saw with my own eyes."

Nathan helped Lily up and turned to leave. "You haven't been yourself lately. I'll arrange for a psychological evaluation."

The next day, Grace was admitted to the Crawford family's Greenbrier Private Mental Health Center. Citing "violent behavior in a public place and severe emotional instability," Nathan had the family's psychiatrist initiate an involuntary psychiatric assessment.

Under California law, this kind of mandatory observation could last a maximum of seventy-two hours. But Nathan used the Crawford family's influence on the medical board to have the center upgrade the assessment to a one-month, closed-door inpatient observation, claiming "persistent emotional disorder with risk of harm to others."

Throughout the entire process, no one asked for Grace's opinion.

Her request for an external hearing was denied.

Her request to contact an independent lawyer was met with, "During a psychological crisis intervention, all external communication must be approved by the attending physician."

And who hired the attending physician? The Crawford family.

She was in there for a month.

She was forced to take high doses of anti-anxiety medication that left her in a constant fog.

She was confined to a room with only a bed and a high window, with just one hour of outdoor activity per day.

She protested, she demanded a lawyer, she insisted she wasn't sick―but no one listened.

Her husband was the head of the Crawford Group. This mental health center was his family's property. No one was willing to stand up to him.

A month later, Nathan came to pick her up.

He looked at her pale face, his expression complicated. "Have you learned your lesson?"

Grace looked up at him and suddenly smiled.

"I have."

She had learned her lesson.

She was wrong to pour her entire self into this marriage. Wrong to think sincerity would be met with sincerity. Wrong to believe that with time, everything would get better.