Mayor s Dutiful Wife

The familiar scent of Texas dust welcomed me home after weeks on a sold-out tour, but my mother's strained smile hinted at trouble.

Over chicken-fried steak, she dropped a bombshell: an arranged marriage. Not in some period drama, but right here in the 21st century, between me, Ava Monroe, a musician building her own destiny, and Liam Sterling, the grandson of a man my father saved.

It was a life-debt, a "gentleman's agreement" from before I was born, now pushed forward by a dying patriarch.

I was blindsided, reeling from the archaic notion. This wasn't some fantasy; it was a contract, turning my life into a political maneuver for family honor.

The agreement had a cruel twist: it only stood if I wasn't "seriously involved" with anyone.

My single status, a consequence of artistic devotion, suddenly trapped me.

They rushed the wedding, leaving me married to a handsome stranger who was meticulous, practical, and almost unsettlingly stoic.

He treated me with perfect respect, yet his emotional distance left me feeling like a beautiful, but hollow, exhibit in his immaculate penthouse.

Then came Victoria.