Chapter 2 A Man Without a Heart

A Man Without a Heart

The rain hit the windows in a steady rhythm, soft but insistent, as Xavier Lu sat alone in the backseat of his black Maybach. The city lights blurred behind the tinted glass, and the low hum of the engine was the only sound that filled the silence.

He tapped his fingers against his knee, expression unreadable.

"It's done," Amanda said from the front passenger seat, turning slightly to face him. "She signed. The NDA will be filed by tomorrow."

Xavier didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on the street outside on nothing in particular.

"You're unusually quiet," Amanda added, her voice neutral.

"Was she nervous?" he asked after a long pause.

Amanda blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The girl. Leah. Was she nervous?"

Amanda raised a brow. "She was composed. Quiet. Didn't ask questions. Didn't try to flirt or negotiate."

Xavier gave a slight nod. That was what he'd expected. Leah Chen was not a social climber. Not a woman looking for attention. She hadn't smiled once during the meeting not even fake politeness. And yet, there was something about her that lingered.

Perhaps it was the silence. Or those eyes fierce, like someone used to being cornered but refusing to show fear.

He hated eyes like that. They reminded him too much of his own.

"She'll serve the purpose," he muttered.

Amanda's voice was carefully even. "You don't have to do this. There are easier ways to secure your position."

"No," Xavier said sharply. "The board wants stability. A wife calms rumors, solidifies trust. My father left his legacy in shambles. If I want full control, I need to project permanence."

Amanda didn't argue. She'd worked for him long enough to know when silence was safer.

But he could feel her judgment in the air. He was used to it.

A marriage for business. A contract wife. A solution to a problem.

It wasn't romantic. It wasn't noble. It was necessary.

Leah stood on the balcony of the suite, wrapped in a hotel robe, her hair damp from the shower. Below, the city sprawled in gold and silver, the rain softening the lights into a dreamy haze. It should have been beautiful. But it just made her feel small.

She sipped the tea the concierge had brought and stared into the distance, trying not to think about the wedding band now resting on her finger.

Thin, silver, and soulless.

Just like the man who had placed it there.

Who was Xavier Lu, really?

She had heard the stories, of course. Ruthless in business. Detached in relationships. Rumors of broken engagements, hostile takeovers, lawsuits he won with surgical precision. No scandals. No warmth. No humanity.

She hadn't believed it fully until today.

He hadn't even looked at her when they said their vows in front of the private registrar. Not even a nod. Just ink on paper and a curt nod.

The memory stung more than it should.

She'd expected cold. But she hadn't expected invisible.

Her phone buzzed. She grabbed it, heart fluttering.

Emma.

Leah swiped to answer. "Hey, Em."

"Are you okay?" her sister's voice was soft but laced with concern. "You didn't call after your meeting."

Leah forced a smile into her voice. "Yeah. Everything went fine. I moved into the hotel for now. It's... fancy."

"Fancy like a movie fancy or like a weird rich-people fancy?"

Leah laughed, a real laugh this time. "Definitely weird rich-people fancy. There's a piano in the living room. Who puts a piano in a hotel suite?"

Emma giggled, then coughed lightly. The sound pulled Leah's chest tight.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Okay," Emma said. "The new meds are helping, I think. I had enough energy to draw today."

Leah's heart squeezed. "That's amazing."

"I drew you," Emma said shyly. "You looked like a princess. In a castle. But with sad eyes."

Leah blinked back the sting in hers. "That sounds about right."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Emma asked suddenly, her voice small. "Marrying a stranger for money?"

"I'm sure," Leah said softly. "It's just for a year. And it's going to help us both. That's what matters."

Emma was quiet for a moment. "I love you."

"I love you more."

They hung up, and Leah turned back to the city.

Only one year.

She could survive one year.

She had to.

Because if she let herself feel too much now regret, fear, loneliness she wouldn't make it through the night, let alone the year.

Leah turned away from the balcony and stepped back into the suite, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet. Everything about the place was designed to impress sleek surfaces, curated art, subtle gold accents but it felt more like a museum than a home.

She wandered through the rooms, fingers trailing absentmindedly along the edge of the marble vanity, then the smooth curve of a velvet chair. It was beautiful. Cold. Quiet. Just like him.

Her gaze landed on the envelope sitting on the glass coffee table.

The contract.

Black ink. Cold words. A year of her life traded away for salvation.

She picked it up and flipped through the pages again, rereading the terms she'd already memorized.

No romantic involvement.

No interference with his business decisions.

No claim to his assets after the year ends.

A tidy exchange. A marriage built on boundaries and silence.

But there was one line she hadn't noticed before, a clause tucked near the bottom of the third page.

Clause 12: Physical intimacy, if initiated by mutual consent, will not alter the terms of the agreement.

Leah blinked, reread it.

Her stomach twisted.

She wasn't naïve. She knew that being around a man like Xavier handsome, powerful, emotionally unavailable might blur lines. For some women, maybe. But she wasn't planning on falling for him. God, no. She didn't even like him.

Still, the idea that the contract accounted for such a possibility made her skin crawl.

She set the papers down with care, as if they might catch fire if handled too roughly.

And then she moved to the bedroom and climbed into bed, pulling the silk sheets up to her chin like armor.

Her thoughts tangled Emma's laughter, Xavier's sharp eyes, the emptiness of the suite and finally, sleep took her under.

But in her dreams, she was standing alone at the altar again, pen in hand, heart in her throat, and Xavier's voice echoing from the shadows.

It's just a contract. Don't expect anything else.

The words haunted her.

Even in sleep, they echoed sharp and final, like a door slamming shut. Leah tossed restlessly beneath the silken sheets, the fabric too smooth, too foreign. Her old bed had been lumpy, the springs worn down and the blanket mismatched. But it had been hers. This place felt like a cage lined with velvet.

Somewhere around 3 a.m., she gave up on sleep.

She padded barefoot into the massive kitchen, flipping on a single under-cabinet light. The soft glow lit the marble countertops like moonlight on ice. She found a kettle, filled it, and watched it begin to steam.

What kind of man marries a stranger?

More importantly what kind of man needs to?

She leaned on the counter, thinking back to the brief conversation they'd had. Barely five minutes, and yet she could still hear the cold clarity in Xavier's voice. Every word calculated. Every move choreographed.

There had been no hesitation in him. No flicker of doubt. She might as well have been a signature on a business contract.

But people didn't get married like that.

Unless they were hiding something.

A chime sounded from the front door.

Leah straightened, heart thudding. Who would visit her in the middle of the night?

She walked carefully to the door and checked the peephole.

Empty hallway.

Frowning, she opened it and saw a black gift box on the floor. No name. No note.

Cautiously, she brought it inside and opened the lid.

Inside lay a midnight-blue designer dress and a pair of crystal-heeled shoes, delicate and gleaming. Beneath them, a cream envelope.

She opened it slowly.

"You will accompany me to a charity gala tomorrow night. Be ready at 6:00 PM."

-X.L.

No greeting. No explanation. Just a command.

Her fingers curled around the card.

So it begins, she thought. The performances. The parties. The illusion of being Mrs. Xavier Lu.

She looked at the gown again. It was stunning, elegant, and clearly chosen with precision. But the gesture wasn't kindness.

It was control.

He was dressing her like he would dress a mannequin. Perfectly presentable. Perfectly distant.

Leah let out a slow breath and whispered to the empty room, "You're not the only one who can play a part, Xavier."

She would be ready.

But if he thought she'd just be another silent accessory to his cold empire, he was about to learn something new.

Contracts go both ways.

Late Night, Same Day Xavier stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse, untouched whiskey in hand, watching the rain streak down the glass like silver veins. The city below never slept, but Xavier Lu often did just not tonight.

His mind, usually a sharp machine of numbers, deals, and deadlines, kept drifting back to her.

Leah Chen.

Mrs. Lu, now.

He scoffed softly at the thought.

He didn't believe in the concept of marriage. Not truly. Not the fairytale versions with love and flowers and devotion. His father had taught him better than that. Marriage, like business, was about leverage. Strategy. Stability.

And yet...

There had been something in Leah's eyes that didn't quite fit the cold, transactional nature of their agreement. Something raw. Defiant. Quietly broken but unbending.

She hadn't looked at him with awe or desperation like others had. She hadn't tried to seduce, manipulate, or win favor. She'd just... endured. Like she had learned how to survive in a world that never offered her a way out.

Xavier downed the whiskey, the burn doing nothing to warm him.

He didn't like questions he couldn't answer. And Leah Chen was quickly becoming one.

He walked across the dark room to his desk and opened a drawer.

Inside was a simple file her background, what little his team had dug up. Art student. Freelance sketch work. Caregiver to a chronically ill sister. No scandals. No debts except medical ones. No romantic attachments, at least none worth noting.

All she had was her sister.

That's why she said yes.

He respected that, in a way.

He'd grown up in a world where people sold everything integrity, loyalty, even their names for profit. But Leah had sold herself for someone else's life.

Not for greed.

For love.

That made her dangerous. People who loved that deeply had no limits.

And no price.

He set the file aside and pulled out his phone, typing a message to Amanda:

Ensure security detail is tight at the gala. And make sure Leah has everything she needs.

X.L.

He stared at the screen for a moment, then added:

Discreetly.

He didn't know why he cared if she felt overwhelmed.

He shouldn't.

This was a contract.

One year. No attachments.

He reminded himself of that as he stood in the silence of his high-rise kingdom.

But deep down, a small part of him knew he had brought a storm into his controlled world.

And storms don't sign contracts.