Roman Lebedev sat in his office, the vast leather armchair swallowing him like quicksand. A single, relentless sentence pulsed in his mind, the echo of his grandfather’s ultimatum. Victor Lebedev, the patriarch of the family and architect of their empire, had laid down an edict that now held Roman’s entire future hostage.
“Marriage, Roman. To prove you are worthy, you must build a family,” his grandfather’s powerful voice had boomed. “You will inherit the company only after you have been married for one year. Otherwise, everything goes to charity.”
Roman winced. Charity was a noble cause, of course, but not with the empire he had spent his life helping to build. The condition was absurd. He didn’t believe in love, in attachment, in the messy, unpredictable chaos of human emotion. His world was one of transactions, cold calculations, and absolute control. But his grandfather was immovable.
For days, he had mentally scrolled through a list of potential candidates, each more unsuitable than the last. Then, a name from a half-forgotten past surfaced: Katerina Smirnova. The facts, when his assistant laid them out, were stark and brutally perfect. Crippling debts. A sick mother. A desperate search for money. She was the ideal solution.
He picked up his phone. “Find Katerina Smirnova,” he commanded his assistant. “Arrange a meeting.”
Katerina sat in the small, worn-out apartment she shared with her mother, Olga. Her mother lay on the sofa, pale and frail, a shadow of her former self. The medical bills were a mountain, growing larger each day, and hope was melting away like spring snow. Katya’s odd jobs barely covered their food and medicine.
The phone call was a shock. A clipped, professional voice introduced himself as the assistant to a Roman Lebedev and requested a meeting. It had to be a mistake. But a flicker of curiosity, fanned by the winds of desperation, compelled her to agree.
She stood before the gleaming, monolithic business center, feeling small and out of place. Roman Lebedev met her in a sterile, glass-walled office. He was handsome in a severe, untouchable way, his gaze cold and penetrating as he appraised her like an asset on a balance sheet.
“Katerina,” he began, forgoing any pleasantries. “I am aware of your financial difficulties. And of your mother’s illness.”
Katya flinched. How could he know everything?
“I am proposing a transaction,” he continued, ignoring her discomfort. “I will pay off all your debts. I will ensure your mother receives the finest medical care available. In return, you will marry me.”
The words hung in the air, unreal and shocking. “Marry you?”
“A fictitious marriage,” he clarified, his tone flat. “A one-year contract. After which, we divorce. No emotions. No obligations. Only adherence to the terms.” He slid a thick folder across the polished desk.
Her hands trembled as she opened it. The terms were laid out in cold, black ink: public appearances, maintaining the illusion of a happy couple, no personal relationships with other men.
“This is… insane,” she whispered.
“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But it is the only way to save your mother.”
She knew he was right. For her mother, she would do anything. “I agree,” she said, her voice barely audible.
He gave a slight, satisfied nod. “Excellent. Sign the contract, and we will begin immediately.” She signed, her mind fixated on a single thought: save Mom.
The days that followed were a whirlwind. A secret, sterile ceremony at a registrar’s office was their wedding. Katya stood beside Roman in an expensive dress she could never afford, her heart aching for the wedding of her dreams—a wedding with love, not cold, hard business.
Afterward, he drove her to his mansion, a vast, somber house that felt more like a museum than a home. “This is your new residence,” he said, opening the door. “Remember the contract. No unnecessary questions. No demands.”
She stepped inside, feeling the heavy door swing shut on her old life. The room she was shown to was enormous and luxurious, but utterly soulless. She looked out the window at the glittering city lights, a sea of stars that could not penetrate the darkness in her heart. She thought of her mother, now in a private hospital thanks to this deal, and drew on her strength. For her, she would play the part of the happy wife.
The first weeks were a study in silent, formal cohabitation. Roman was distant, their interactions limited to curt pleasantries. He left early and returned late, a ghost in his own home. Soon, however, the first test of their arrangement arrived.
“We have a reception on Friday evening,” he announced at breakfast, not looking up from his phone. “A partner’s anniversary. You are required to be there.”
Panic seized her. “I… I don’t know what to wear.”
He sighed, a sound of pure irritation. “Stylists will handle that. Don’t worry about it.”
On Friday, a team of stylists descended upon the mansion, transforming her. In an elegant, midnight-blue gown, with her hair artfully styled and makeup enhancing her natural features, she looked in the mirror and saw a stranger—a chic, confident society woman. But inside, she was still just Katya, the girl from a simple family, trapped in a gilded cage.
At the reception, she clung to Roman’s side, his cold presence a strange source of security amidst the sea of unfamiliar, wealthy faces. Then, he was pulled away by business partners, leaving her alone.
“You must be Katerina,” a kind voice said. She turned to see an older man with a warm smile. “I’m Victor Lebedev. Roman’s grandfather.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, trying to steady her nerves.
“I hope you are happy with my grandson,” Victor said, his eyes searching hers. “He can be difficult, I know. He doesn’t know how to feel. But deep down, he is a good man.”
The conversation lingered in her mind. She began to see the cracks in Roman’s icy façade, the lonely man hidden beneath the ruthless businessman.
One evening, after a long, draining visit to the hospital, Katya collapsed. A fever raged through her, and she was put to bed by the housekeeper. Roman, hearing of her illness, came to her room. He stood in the doorway for a long time, just watching her. She felt his gaze on her, a strange, unreadable weight. Later, drifting in a feverish haze, she felt a hand gently take hers. It was Roman. His touch was a comfort, a small point of warmth in the cold, lonely house.
When she finally opened her eyes, he was still there, a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Better,” she whispered. “Thank you… for being here.”
“You are my wife,” he said, as if that explained everything. “It is my duty to care for you.”
But it felt like more than duty. The next morning, he was more talkative, and after breakfast, he suggested a walk in the garden. They spoke for hours, sharing stories of their childhoods, their dreams. As the sun began to set, Katya stopped and looked at him.
“Thank you, Roman. For everything.”
“I’m doing it for myself, too,” he replied, his voice soft. He leaned in and kissed her, a tender, hesitant kiss that was nothing like the formal peck at their wedding. It was a kiss full of unspoken longing, and as she responded, she felt her heart, which she had so carefully guarded, begin to surrender.
Jealousy was a venomous snake, coiling around Roman’s heart. The cause was Daniel, Katya’s childhood friend, who had reappeared in her life. He called, he texted, he visited. And with every interaction, Roman felt a hot, unfamiliar rage build inside him. He saw the way her eyes lit up when she spoke to Daniel, and the shared memories they had, a history he could never be a part of, felt like a betrayal.
“He’s just a friend,” he would tell himself, but his reason was losing the battle.
One evening, after a particularly long phone call between them, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stormed into the living room. “What is going on between you and him?” he demanded.
Katya looked up, startled. “With Daniel? We’re just friends, Roman. What’s wrong?”
“‘Just friends’?” he sneered. “Then why do you light up like a Christmas tree every time he calls?”
A small, knowing smile touched her lips. “Are you jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous?” he shot back, his mask of indifference firmly in place. “We have a contract, remember? I just don’t want you to forget your obligations.”
“My obligation is to play your wife in public,” she retorted, her voice rising. “And your behavior is ridiculous. You’re the one who said there could be nothing between us. So what do you want from me now?”
He fell silent, trapped by the walls of his own making.
Meanwhile, Katya was struggling with her own turmoil. Her mother’s condition was worsening, and she desperately needed Roman’s support. She felt herself drawing closer to him, but she was terrified of misreading his kindness, terrified it was all just part of the act.
One night, she returned from the hospital, her heart heavy with grief. She found him in his office, buried in his work. When he looked up and saw her tear-stained face, his expression softened instantly.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.
“My mom… she’s worse,” Katya whispered.
He stood up, came to her, and pulled her into his arms. In his embrace, she finally found the safety and comfort she had been craving for so long. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ll help. We’ll get through this.”
In that moment, she knew. She was in love with him.
Roman, too, was fighting a losing battle. He confessed to his friend Andrew, “I’m in love with her. I know it’s insane, given our contract. But I can’t help it.”
“You? In love?” Andrew was stunned. “You always said love was a weakness.”
“I know what I said,” Roman replied. “But Katya… she’s different. She made me believe it could be real.”
The unspoken feelings hung between them, a thick, suffocating tension. Katya, believing he could never truly love her and wanting to free him from their arrangement so he could secure his inheritance, made a heart-wrenching decision.
One morning at breakfast, she took a deep breath. “Roman… I think we should get a divorce.”
He flinched as if struck. “Divorce? Why?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“I can’t live this lie anymore,” she said, looking away. “I can’t pretend I don’t love you when… when the truth is, I do. I love you, Roman. And I know you don’t love me. I don’t want to stand in the way of your inheritance.”
Her words hit him like a physical blow. “You… you think I don’t love you?” he asked, a raw anger rising in his chest. He shot up from his chair, his eyes blazing.
“TO HELL WITH THE CONTRACT!” he roared, his voice cracking with a year’s worth of repressed emotion. “TO HELL WITH THE INHERITANCE! I would give it all up, Katya, all of it, just to be with you!”
She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and dawning hope.
“I love you,” he cried, the words tearing from him. “More than anything. I don’t need the money. I don’t need the company. I just need you.” He strode to her, taking her face in his hands. “Do you believe me?”
She could only nod, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Then tell me,” he pleaded. “Tell me you love me, too.”
“I love you,” she sobbed, a radiant smile breaking through her tears. “I love you more than anything.”
He crushed her in his arms, holding her as if he would never let go. And in the doorway, a floorboard creaked. His grandfather, Victor, stood there, leaning on his cane, a soft, knowing smile on his face.
“Grandfather,” Roman breathed.
“I heard everything,” Victor said, his voice gentle. “You’ve finally proven it, my boy. You’ve proven you are capable of love. That money is not the most important thing to you. I am proud of you.” He looked at Katya, his eyes warm. “The condition for the inheritance is no longer valid. The company is yours, Roman. And if your choice is this wonderful young woman, then I am a very happy man.”
The weight of the last year lifted. Roman turned to Katya, his eyes shining. “It’s real now, Katya,” he said. “No contracts. No conditions. Just us.”
A few months later, they had a real wedding—a grand, beautiful celebration filled with laughter and love. As Katya walked down the aisle, she saw Roman waiting for her, his eyes full of a devotion she now knew was real. They exchanged vows, not as business partners, but as two people who had found in each other the one thing they had both been searching for their entire lives: a love without conditions.