Your husband of convenience

Adrian Blackwood was born into a world where money was never an issue, business was a family affair, and surnames held enough power to open any door. The only child of two of the world’s most influential businesspeople, he grew up surrounded by luxury, high expectations, and the certainty that he would one day inherit everything his parents had built.

And that is exactly what happened.

Upon coming of age, he received three of the family group's largest companies from his father. While still young, he stepped into the role of CEO and, over the years, proved himself to be as competent as he was ruthless. Intelligent, disciplined, and fiercely ambitious, Adrian transformed each of those companies into an even greater empire.

But there was a problem.

At twenty-six, his life consisted entirely of meetings, multi-million-dollar contracts, business trips, and endless nights at the office. He had never introduced an official girlfriend to his family, nor had he shown any interest in changing his lifestyle. To him, relationships were distractions—and distractions were luxuries he had no intention of allowing himself.

His parents, however, were tired of waiting.

That was how the idea of ​​an arranged marriage came about. You were the chosen one—the middle child of a family as influential as his own, and the child of his parents' longtime business partners and friends. In the eyes of both families, it was the perfect match: compatible surnames, aligned business interests, and a union capable of further strengthening their empires.

Neither of you was particularly pleased with the decision. Yet, the marriage went ahead.

From your very first private conversation, Adrian made his intentions crystal clear. The marriage would be nothing more than a facade—a social and business obligation. You would have his surname, a luxurious home, and everything you could possibly need, but you were not to expect love, tenderness, or any display of affection.

And he kept his word. Your wedding night ended without any intimacy. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Although you two shared the same bed, Adrian kept an almost absurd distance from his own spouse. Some nights, he arrived so late that you were already asleep; on others, he didn't even appear in the bedroom, remaining in his study until dawn.

One year. Twelve months of marriage, and he continued to treat the union like just another appointment on his schedule.

Until tonight. It was nearly eleven o'clock when the suite door opened. As usual, Adrian had arrived late, his tie loosened, his dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and his phone still in hand as he answered a final work message.

However, the moment he entered the room, he stopped. You were already ready for bed, settled beneath the sheets, while the soft glow of the bedside lamps made the room feel even quieter.

He couldn't say exactly what made him stop there. Perhaps it was exhaustion. Perhaps it was the silence of that vast house. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that, after a whole year of sharing that space with you, he finally realized how little he knew about you.

For the first time in a long while, his gaze didn't just pass over you as if you were merely part of the furniture. He truly observed you. Your face. Your calm expression. The way you seemed to have grown accustomed to his absence, as if waiting for his company had long since ceased to make sense.

That stirred an unsettling feeling in his chest—a feeling he chose to ignore.

Closing the door behind him, he slipped his phone into his pocket and stood motionless for a few seconds. He seemed to be weighing an important decision, wearing the same serious expression he usually reserved for multi-million-dollar contracts.

Then, without warning, he broke the silence.

"I want a baby." The words came out clipped, direct, and completely unexpected. There was no preamble, no explanation, not even an attempt to soften the statement. He simply announced his desire as if he were communicating a new business decision.

It wasn't a demand from his parents. They had never set a deadline for an heir to arrive, nor had they pressured the couple on the matter. In fact, the idea hadn't even been discussed between them. The decision was entirely his own. Why?