“What did you learn from it all then?” James leaned back, clutching his beer bottle before suddenly voicing the question that had been plaguing his thoughts for a while.

Emily paused, an amused smile playing across her lips. “To pick men who can provide for me, perhaps?”

James exhaled softly, bringing up the question that had been circling in his mind. “Is that why you married my dad?”

Oops… She’d walked right into that trap.

Emily scrambled to recover. “Of course not—I genuinely like your father.”

“His face or his fortune?” James quipped, recognizing her playful tone.

Emily set her beer down and tapped her cheek as if pondering carefully. “Hmm… Maybe his face? I'll be right back; nature calls.”

Dodging awkward questions with a bathroom break was always a safe bet.

Honestly, the wedding had occurred in such a rush. They'd sorted the financial aspects but had forgotten to align on emotional issues. She’d need to talk to her husband when he was free.

In the bathroom, Emily washed her hands and freshened up. James’s question lingered in her mind, leading her thoughts to wander a bit.

Truthfully, she hadn’t lied; she did find her husband’s face quite appealing.

After all, he was considered the most attractive in the investment crowd. Who wouldn't appreciate such beauty?

Emily never thought of admiring good looks as a bad thing. Appreciating beauty contributes to a good mood, and for long life, one should indulge in it more often.

Though, she couldn’t quite grasp the reality of marriage just yet.

It had only been about a month ago.

She had stayed late at work until half-past ten, and as Emily was about to leave, she was stopped by her boss, who was also burning the midnight oil.

“Do you have a moment, Miss Emily?”

Taking a glance at the darkened sky outside, Emily, with a hint of sarcasm, replied, “Yes, I do.”

—What else could she say? She was a worker unable to even afford a down payment.

Following her boss into the chairperson’s office, Emily took out her notebook and sat at his desk, ready for more work instructions. Instead, she heard a surprising inquiry from her usually reserved and serious boss.

“Miss Emily, would you marry me?”

For a fleeting moment, Emily thought she’d begun hallucinating due to overwork.

Yet her boss sat there, calm and serene, watching her as if the proposal was a simple request.

Emily’s mouth fell open in utter shock, staring back dumbfounded at her boss’s composed expression for a full minute before she finally regained her composure.

“Mr. Henry… did you just say—”

Henry, without hesitation, repeated himself, “I’m hoping you’ll agree to marry me.”

Wait, was that a question before? Why did it feel like a statement now?

Emily weighed the chances of her boss having a mental blip.

But Henry continued, “You're aware I have a son.”

—Everyone was aware of that, the biggest gossip about her boss: thirty-six and with a seventeen-year-old son.

“He’s becoming increasingly rebellious these days, and I struggle to connect with him. So, I hope to have a kind wife by my side to help care for him.

“I overheard once you mentioned not wanting to have kids of your own, interested in marrying sooner, and desiring a job with less stress. You could treat becoming my wife as a new role; I'd offer you a property and a million dollars pre-wedding, plus a couple of commercial buildings. We’d also draft a new employment contract for you, with a post-tax monthly salary of twenty thousand, distributed over twenty payments annually, with a total raise each year…”