TERMS AND CONDITIONS

[KnightTech Penthouse – Evening]

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing the top floor of KnightTech Tower—Leonard Knight’s personal penthouse. Selena stepped out, heels clicking against sleek black marble. The space looked more like an art gallery than a home—glass walls, clean lines, chrome edges. Stylish. Expensive. Cold.

Just like him.

Leonard stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the glowing skyline of Velmont City. His posture was as straight as ever, hands in his pockets, tailored black suit clinging perfectly to his frame.

“Welcome,” he said, not turning around.

“To the fortress of ice?” Selena replied coolly, walking in without hesitation. “Charming.”

He turned then, finally facing her. “I thought we agreed—no drama.”

“I’m not dramatic,” she said. “Just brutally honest.”

Leonard nodded toward the glass coffee table. “The contract.”

She spotted the folder immediately. Black leather, pristine edges—of course.

He watched as she sat down and flipped it open, scanning each line with the ease of someone used to reading high-stakes deals.

Clause 1: The marriage will last exactly twelve months.

Clause 3: Neither party may engage in romantic or physical relationships outside the marriage.

Clause 5: All personal matters must remain private. No media leaks.

Clause 7: No emotional involvement to be expected or encouraged.

She raised an eyebrow. “You actually printed ‘no emotions.’ What’s next? ‘No smiling before 9 AM’?”

Leonard didn’t blink. “Emotions cloud judgment. This is a business arrangement. We treat it like one.”

Selena clicked the pen once, twice, before finally signing. Her name curled across the page in smooth, confident ink.

“There. Officially married. Feel anything yet?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

She stood, walking slowly through the space, taking in the minimalistic decor. Not a single photo. No warmth. No memories.

“You know,” she said casually, “a little humanity wouldn’t kill you. Maybe a houseplant.”

“I don’t get attached to things that die.”

That earned him a glance. Cold. Sharp.

“Where do I sleep?”

“The guest suite. Third door to the right.”

“No need to act like I’m contagious.”

“You’re not,” he replied simply. “Just unnecessary… after hours.”

Selena turned, arms folded. “And in public?”

Leonard walked toward her, stopping a few feet away.

“We’re a couple. In love. Convincing and clean. No scandal. No suspicion. We hold hands when needed. Smile for the cameras. Maybe a kiss if required.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So I’m your trophy wife now?”

“You’re a partner,” he corrected. “But this is about perception. We control the narrative.”

Selena stepped closer, her voice softer, edged with challenge. “Then here’s a tip—try smiling once in a while. You might pass for human.”

For a moment, his lips almost twitched. Almost.

“You’re not what I expected,” he murmured.

“Good,” she said. “I’d hate to be predictable.”

She turned and disappeared down the hallway toward the guest suite, the air still thick with tension.

Leonard remained still, eyes on the contract she’d signed just minutes ago.

Twelve months.

No feelings.

No risk.

So why did it already feel like everything was about to fall apart?