Chapter 2: The Contract
The chrome handle of Admond’s office door felt cold under Hana’s palm, a shocking contrast to the feverish anger still buzzing in her veins from last night. She didn’t knock. She shoved it open, ready to unleash a hurricane of blame on her brother for his part in this colossal disaster.The hurricane hit a wall. A six-foot-two, perfectly tailored, infuriatingly composed wall.
Adrian Vance was already there, leaning against the edge of Admond’s stupidly giant mahogany desk like he owned the place. He was drinking coffee from a porcelain cup.A porcelain cup.Who did that?
“Oh, good,” Adrian said, his voice dry as the desert.“The angry garden gnome has arrived. Right on time.”
Hana’s mouth opened, but only a strangled squeak came out. She turned her glare to her brother, who was sitting behind his desk looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “What is he doing here?”
Admond gestured limply with a thick manila folder. “He got the same ‘summons’ text I sent you. Figured we should all get the scolding at once. Economies of scale.”
“This isn’t a scolding,” Hana fumed, stomping further into the room. Her heels made satisfyingly aggressive clicks on the polished concrete floor.“This is a war council. And he’s the enemy.”
“Charming as always,” Adrian murmured, taking a sip of his coffee. He looked disgustingly well-rested.Admond slid the folder across the desk. “Just… read it.”
Hana snatched it up, tearing it open. Inside were crisp, laser-printed pages covered in dense, soul-crushing legalese. Words like “fiduciary responsibility,” “consolidated assets,” and “irrevocable beneficiary” swam before her eyes. But the headers were clear enough: Florence-Vance Family Union Agreement.She flipped a page, her eyes scanning. “What is this, my pre-nup?”
“It’s your everything-nup,” Admond said, rubbing his temples.“It outlines the merger terms. The corporate structures, the voting rights, the… cohabitation requirements.”
“Cohabitation requirements?” Hana screeched. “Like what, we have to share a toothbrush holder?”
“Page seven, section four,” Adrian said without looking up.He was examining his cuticles. “Minimum of four shared overnight stays per calendar month for the first thirty-six months to satisfy public perception clauses. Separate bedrooms are, thankfully, stipulated.”
Hana’s face flamed. The memory of his hand hovering near her cheek, the heat in the car, rushed back with embarrassing clarity. “I’d rather sleep in a dumpster!”
“I’ve seen your old apartment. The comparison is apt.”
She ignored him, her eyes catching on another line.“A joint public appearance schedule?A social media strategy? Are you kidding me?You want me to post couple selfies with him? #Blessed?”
“It’s about market confidence, Hana,” Admond said, his voice weary. “The stocks of both companies will be hyper-sensitive. A unified, happy front is… required.”
“I’ll give them a front!” Hana growled. She took the folder in both hands and, with a grunt of effort, started to pull. The sturdy paper resisted, then gave way with a loud, satisfying rrrrip.
“Hana, don’t—” Admond started.But it was Adrian who moved. He was suddenly there, not touching her, but his large hand clamping down over both of hers, stopping her tear mid-rip. He loomed over her, that sandalwood and cold air scent wrapping around her again. “Tearing it up doesn’t make it go away. It just means you don’t know what you agreed to. You’ll be photocopying this from my file later, and you’ll look even more childish doing it.”
“Let go of me, you… you overgrown coat rack!”
He didn’t let go. He just looked down at her, his hazel eyes flickering with something that wasn’t quite anger.It was more like exasperated amusement. “You have the negotiation skills of a toddler. A very loud, poorly dressed toddler.”
“My shoes cost more than your first car!”
“My first car was a limited edition Aston Martin, so that’s statistically unlikely, you miniature miser.”
“ENOUGH!” Admond shouted, slamming his hand on the desk. Both of them jumped.Admond almost never shouted.He pinched the bridge of his nose.“Just… stop. For five seconds.Look at this.”
He swiveled his laptop around. On the screen was a sleek financial news site. The headline blared: FLORENCE & VANCE DYNASTIES POISED FOR HISTORIC MERGER, SOURCES CITE ‘FAMILIAL BOND’.“It’s already leaked,” Admond said quietly. “The business press has it.The social pages will have it by noon.The narrative is set. You two are the golden couple sealing the deal of the century. If you blow this up now, the fallout won’t just be Daddy cutting your allowance.It’ll be shareholders suing for loss of value. It’ll be both families becoming a laughingstock.The collateral damage will be in the billions. And it will be your fault.”
The words landed heavily in the sun-drenched office. The cheerful morning light felt like a taunt.
Hana deflated, Adrian’s hands still covering hers on the torn contract.He released her slowly, and she let the halves flutter to the floor. The fight drained out of her, replaced by a cold, heavy dread.
“You’re a traitor,” she whispered to Admond, but the heat was gone.It just sounded sad.
Admond’s face softened.“Han, come on.You know that’s not true. I fought them for three hours last night.I told them it was insane. I said you’d both rather jump off this building than look at each other over morning coffee.” He glanced at Adrian. “He actually seemed mildly intrigued by that option.”
Adrian just went back to leaning on the desk, his face a mask.“So what, then?” Hana’s voice was small. “We just… do it?We get married?We pretend?”
Admond sighed. “You don’t have to pretend to like each other. The world already expects you to hate each other.That’s your whole brand.The rivalry.The public bickering. That’s actually perfect.It’s believable.You just have to… channel it into a shared project. Which is, unfortunately, your joined lives.”
Adrian pushed off the desk, finally looking at Admond directly.“And what’s your stake in this, Admond? You get to be best man? Inherit the unified empire when we inevitably murder each other?”
“My stake,” Admond said, his voice firm, “is that I care about both of you.Believe it or not. And out of all the nightmare scenarios my parents could have concocted for her,” he nodded at Hana, “this one at least involves someone I know isn’t a total sociopath. Someone who, despite being an insufferable prick, is competent. Who won’t wilt under her nonsense or run off with her money. And for you,” he looked at Adrian, “it’s someone who, despite being a spoiled hellion, has a brain when she bothers to use it. Who won’t bore you into an early grave.You’re both horrible. You deserve each other. Maybe you’ll even be happy, in a deeply hostile, dysfunctional way.”
There was a long silence.A delivery truck honked forty-seven stories below.
Hana stared at the torn contract on the floor. A lifetime of competition flashed before her eyes—losing at tennis, losing at chess, losing at who got the internship, who got the promotion, who got the last word. Always second.Always to him.Now, the ultimate contest. And the prize wasn’t a trophy.It was him.She looked up at Adrian. He was already watching her, his expression unreadable.That same calculating look from the car, but stripped of the heat. This was pure, cold logistics.“Separate bedrooms,” she stated, not a question.
“Obviously,” he replied.“I keep my gallery.My team.My projects. You don’t get a say.”
“The same applies to my research division. Your tiny, meddling fingers stay out.”
“We have to do… public appearances.Fine.But no… coordinated outfits. And no telling me to smile.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.Your smile looks painful. Like you’re trying to pass a kidney stone.”
Admond put his head in his hands.“See? You’re already a perfect match. It’s disgusting.”
Hana ignored him, stepping closer to Adrian, craning her neck to meet his eyes.“This is a business arrangement.A merger. Nothing more.”
He nodded once, a sharp, precise movement.“A hostile takeover, more like. But agreed.”
“I still hate you.”
“The feeling,” he said, a ghost of his old smirk returning, “is profoundly mutual, little girl.”
The old nickname. The familiar flare of irritation warmed her, felt strangely comforting in the surreal coldness of the situation. It was a touchpoint.Something normal in the upside-down world.
She bent down, picked up the two halves of the contract, and slapped them onto Admond’s desk.“Get me a new one. And highlight the part about the separate bathrooms. I want it in neon.”
As she turned to leave, her shoulders set, Adrian’s voice stopped her at the door.
“Hana.”
She didn’t turn.“What?”
“The car. Last night.” He paused, and she could hear the careful, diplomatic phrasing clicking into place.“That was a tactical error.A moment of… mutually acknowledged insanity. It won’t be repeated.”
She closed her eyes for a second.A tactical error. That’s all it was.Of course.
“Good,” she said, without looking back, and walked out, leaving the two men in the sunlit room. Her heart was pounding, but her head was clear.It was just another competition.The biggest one yet.
And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to win it or lose it.