Elise wrote those five rules on the blank page of the contract in letters larger than the legal text surrounding them.
1. Don't interfere with each other's work. 2. Don't intrude on each other's personal lives. 3. Separate bedrooms. 4. No scandals. 5. Don't fall in love.
Adrian read them all without expression.
“They can be added to the appendix,” he said.
“That's not necessary. I want you to remember them.”
“I have a fairly good memory.”
“Good. Because I won't repeat them.”
They signed the rules at the Laurent family's attorney's office. Elise's father sat at the end of the table, his face stiff from the moment the meeting began. Victor Blackwood was absent. According to his secretary, he was too busy attending a board meeting. Elise didn't know whether that was true or merely the Blackwood family's way of showing that she wasn't important enough to meet in person.
She should have been offended.
Yet part of her was relieved.
The fewer members of the Blackwood family she had to deal with, the easier this one year would be.
Adrian handed the pen back to the attorney. “Those rules apply to both parties.”
“Obviously.”
“You won't check my phone.”
“I'm not interested.”
“You won't invite anyone to the house without telling me.”
“I don't plan to invite anyone.”
“You won't use my name for personal gain.”
Elise looked at him. “Aren't you the one using my name to secure this arrangement?”
For the first time, Adrian's jaw tightened.
“This contract will protect you.”
“That's something people often say when they're making decisions about someone else's life.”
Her father sighed. “Elise.”
“It's all right,” Adrian said. “She's entitled to be angry.”
The answer made Elise turn to him. She had expected an argument, not an admission.
“And that doesn't bother you?”
“Being bothered won't change the facts.”
“What are the facts?”
“That you're marrying me because your family has no other way out.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Elise held her breath, then gave him a faint smile. “At least we agree on something.”
The wedding was scheduled for two weeks later. Too soon to be called preparation, too late to be called an abduction. For fourteen days, Elise spent her time salvaging whatever she still could from her family's business.
She rejected a director who wanted to sell their shares at a low price. She contacted the employees one by one, making sure no one was suddenly fired. She reviewed project plans until midnight, then got up before sunrise to attend a bank meeting.
Adrian never interfered.
He simply sent the documents she needed just as Elise began looking for them. When the bank requested additional collateral, Blackwood's letter of approval arrived two hours earlier. When an old partner tried to take over Laurent Design's main project, Adrian canceled the contract without ever mentioning Elise's name.
Elise learned all of it from other people.
She didn't like the way Adrian helped her without asking. But she liked even less the fact that his help was always exactly what she needed.
The day before the wedding, Elise received a text from an unknown number.
Don't marry Adrian Blackwood.
She stared at the message for a long time, then replied: Who are you?
There was no answer.
Five minutes later, a photo came through. It showed an old station, its platform slick with rain. In one corner of the image, a girl stood beneath a broken umbrella.
Her face was hidden.
But the coat she was wearing was the same one Elise had owned ten years ago.
A second message followed.
He isn't the one who saved you that night.
Elise dropped her phone onto the table.
That night, she didn't sleep. She searched for old photos in the storage box but found nothing. All she found was a faded train ticket tucked between the pages of a notebook from her school days.
The date was the same as the date on the photo.
The memory surfaced again, clearer this time. Rain pouring down too heavily. Wet shoes. Her own trembling hands. A young man standing in front of her, holding an old umbrella.
She couldn't remember his face.
But she remembered his voice.
“Don't be afraid. I'll wait until your train comes.”
The next morning, Adrian came to the Laurent house to pick her up for the wedding photoshoot. He stood on the porch in a dark gray suit, a black umbrella in his hand.
Elise looked at the umbrella.
Its handle was curved. One of its ribs was slightly crooked.
Exactly like the umbrella in her memory.
“That umbrella,” she said.
Adrian lowered his gaze, as if only just realizing the object was visible.
“Why?”
“It's nothing.”
She almost asked where the umbrella had come from, but the fifth rule echoed in her mind: don't fall in love.
That rule had nothing to do with the umbrella.
At least, not yet.
Adrian opened the car door for her.
As Elise stepped inside, she saw Adrian's fingers wrapped around the umbrella handle in the same way as the young man's hand in her memory.
Then Adrian said quietly, “We're ten years late.”
Elise turned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The car door closed.
Behind the glass, Adrian's face became the face of a stranger again.
But this time, Elise began to wonder whether he had ever truly been a stranger to her.