Fake Marriage

Isabelle Carson stood on the steps of the Hale mansion, gripping her umbrella tighter as the wind picked up, sending leaves scattering across the wide driveway. The massive stone structure loomed ahead, its towering windows glowing softly in the late autumn dusk. The drizzle pattered on the umbrella's fabric, a sound she found strangely soothing-unlike the turmoil she felt inside. She was used to this house by now, having spent nearly six months as little Ethan Hale's nanny. But today, something felt different.

The double doors swung open before she could knock, and there stood Alexander Hale, every bit as imposing as the mansion behind him. He filled the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed impeccably in a tailored charcoal suit that seemed designed to emphasize his power. His face was unreadable, as always. His eyes-cold, calculating-barely softened as they landed on her.

"You're late." His voice was smooth, deep, like the low hum of thunder on the horizon. It held no anger, just the barest hint of reprimand.

"I-" Isabelle began, but his gaze was already moving past her to the rain-drenched driveway.

"Ethan's been asking for you since lunchtime." He stepped aside, allowing her entrance.

She lowered the umbrella and stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around her as the door clicked shut behind her. The foyer was as grand as ever, marble floors polished to a gleam, a chandelier hanging above like some crystal constellation. Yet, despite the luxury, the house always felt cold to Isabelle. There was something about its grandeur that lacked warmth, just like the man who owned it.

"I'm sorry about the delay," she said, pushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "The bus took longer than usual."

He raised an eyebrow, as if mildly surprised she still used public transportation. "I can arrange for a driver."

"That won't be necessary." Her voice was firm, maybe too much so. She didn't need his charity. She was here to work, not to be another one of his kept people.

Alexander's lips twitched, almost a smile, but it faded before it could form. He was like that-his expressions fleeting, as though emotions were something he rationed carefully. "Ethan is upstairs. He's missed you."

Her heart softened at the mention of Ethan. The five-year-old boy had stolen her heart from the moment she met him. Quiet and a bit withdrawn at first, Ethan had slowly opened up to her. His little face would light up whenever she arrived, and for reasons Isabelle couldn't quite understand, she found herself caring more for him than she had with any other child in her previous jobs. Maybe because she knew what it was like to feel alone.

"Has he eaten?" she asked, shifting the conversation away from herself.

"Not much." Alex's gaze flickered briefly, and something passed over his face. "He said he was waiting for you."

Isabelle swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Ethan had been waiting for her. She could picture him now, sitting quietly at the grand dining table, the one far too large for a boy his size, his little face turned toward the door, waiting for her to walk through it. It was moments like this that made her job so difficult-not the duties, not the hours, but the emotional weight that came with being someone's temporary source of comfort.

"I'll go to him now," she said, her voice softer.

But as she moved toward the sweeping staircase, Alex's voice stopped her. "Isabelle, wait."

She turned to look at him, noticing for the first time the tension in his posture. His hands were in his pockets, his brow furrowed slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was struggling with the words-a rare sight for a man who always seemed in control.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said finally, his voice low. "It's important."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay calm. "Of course. What is it?"

"Not here." His gaze flicked toward the stairs, then back to her. "After Ethan goes to bed. Meet me in the study."

She nodded, though her curiosity was already swirling. In the six months she'd worked here, Alex had never once asked for a private conversation like this. He was always professional, distant, his interactions with her limited to matters concerning Ethan. What could be so important that it needed to be discussed in private, at night?

"Alright," she agreed, her voice steady despite the questions racing in her mind. "I'll see you later then."

With a curt nod, he turned and strode down the hallway, his footsteps echoing through the vast space.

Isabelle took a deep breath before heading up the stairs, her fingers brushing along the polished wooden banister. The mansion was eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the house's heating system. It always amazed her how something so grand could feel so empty.

When she reached Ethan's room, she knocked softly before opening the door. The room was large and filled with toys-a sprawling testament to a father's wealth, but also, perhaps, his guilt. Ethan sat on the floor, a pile of building blocks in front of him, his small face lighting up the moment he saw her.

"Belle!" he cried, scrambling to his feet and rushing toward her. His small arms wrapped around her legs in a tight hug, and she smiled, bending down to scoop him into her arms.

"Hey, buddy," she said, kissing the top of his curly head. "Did you have a good day?"

He nodded, but his expression was solemn for a five-year-old. "I waited for you."

"I know. I'm sorry I took so long." She set him down gently, brushing his curls back from his forehead. "But I'm here now."

His eyes, a mirror of his father's, seemed to search hers for reassurance. "Will you stay tonight?"

"I'll stay until you go to sleep, okay?"

He smiled then, and it warmed her in a way that nothing else in this house did. Ethan took her hand and led her over to the little fort he'd built with his blocks. For the next hour, she played with him, laughed with him, even helped him put together an intricate train track. It was easy to lose herself in these moments, where the outside world didn't matter, where she didn't have to think about anything beyond Ethan's smile.

By the time his bedtime approached, Ethan's eyes were drooping. She tucked him into his bed, pulling the covers up to his chin, and read him his favorite story-The Little Prince. As she read, she felt his tiny hand grip hers tightly, as if afraid she might slip away.

"Belle," he murmured, his voice soft with sleep. "Will you be my mommy?"

The words hit her like a punch to the chest, stealing her breath. She froze, her heart aching in a way she hadn't expected. Ethan's innocent question hung in the air, filled with a child's longing for something he didn't fully understand.

"I... I can't be your mommy, sweetheart," she said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'll always be here for you. I promise."

Ethan's eyes fluttered closed, and she sat there for a while longer, watching him as he drifted off into sleep. Her mind, however, was spinning. What was she doing here? She had always told herself that this was just a job, that she couldn't get too attached, but Ethan had wormed his way into her heart, and she wasn't sure how to handle it.

After a few more moments, she quietly slipped out of the room and made her way downstairs, her thoughts still tangled with Ethan's question. She wondered if Alex had any idea how much his son needed more than a nanny-he needed a real family. But Alex, for all his wealth and power, seemed determined to keep everyone at arm's length.

She found herself standing in front of Alex's study, the door slightly ajar, a soft glow spilling out from within. Taking a steadying breath, she knocked lightly before pushing the door open.

Alex stood by the window, his back to her, staring out at the darkened gardens. His jacket was off, his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing strong forearms. There was something different about seeing him like this-less put-together, almost vulnerable.

"You wanted to talk to me?" she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable, but there was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Alex seemed to be weighing his words carefully, and Isabelle could feel the weight of whatever he was about to say pressing down on the space between them.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I need your help with something... unconventional."

"Unconventional?" She frowned, unsure of where this was going.

Alex moved toward his desk, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze locked onto hers, intense and unwavering. "Ethan needs more than a nanny. He needs stability, a mother figure. And I believe you're the best person to give him that."

Isabelle's heart pounded in her chest. "Alex, I can't be-"

"I'm not asking you to be his mother." His voice was calm, measured. "I'm asking you to marry me."

Her mind went blank. For a second, she was sure she'd misheard him. "What?"

"A contract marriage." His eyes never left hers. "Just for a year. Long enough to give Ethan the sense of security he needs. It would be purely business. Nothing more."

Purely business. The words echoed in her mind,