Contract marriage:Mother for rent, wife for free
Chapter 30: Tomorrow

Chapter 30: Tomorrow

If James thought he’d seen the worst of his boss, he was brutally surprised.

A man sculpted in ice would be in more possession of emotions than his boss.

He watched with sympathy as the poor lady sobbed into her handkerchief, her head bobbing up and down.

She’d been fired. Just like the other four.

Within the span of a week it wasn’t even Friday yet.

James worried for his own fate, and wondered how long he would be able to buy his real Italian loafers.

Not very long, considering the brewing storm on his boss’s brow as he surveyed the paper.

James swallowed audibly and prayed to whoever was up there.

"What’s this?"

The million dollar question before a scathing reply that would make a grown man sob.

He prepared an answer, but was stopped with a raised hand.

"What’s this font?"

He was going to get sacked over a damn font issue? His mother thought him better than that. But really, he was just a man after all.

"Sir_"

"That is not the answer to my question James."

Ezekiel wondered whether it was time to hire another secretary. Perhaps this one was outgrowing his usefulness.

He had been the longest staying secretary he ever hired, two months was really a record.

Before his secretary could provide an answer, a divine intervention in the mode of Lu Chen came in.

If Ezekiel is the winter_bitter and utterly cold_his cousin was the summer.

Warm, sunny and compassionate.

"Miss me?" He grinned ruefully.

Ezekiel sighed and dismissed his secretary.

James almost sob as the relief smashed into him, hard and soothing. He wasn’t going to get fired after all.

Not today, at any rate.

"She’s scheduled to be here tomorrow. I can’t wait!" Lu Chen gushed.

Ezekiel stared at his cousin, watched with disgust at the wide smile on his lips. His eyes glinted with mischief, something that sent misgivings down his spine.

His cousin’s mischief always results in nothing but catastrophic incidents.

"Who is?" He asked impatiently.

He stared at his wristwatch, a minute after one. His fingers clenched into fist as he fought to override the compulsion.

The compulsive thought gripped him, and he gritted his teeth against them.

He was going to take a break in the middle of his schedule. And nothing would happen.

He would be okay. The world wouldn’t crumble down on his neck and the sky wouldn’t cave in.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. The breathing exercise made his shoulders relaxed a bit just in time to make sense of what his cousin was rambling about.

"She’s perfect for the twins! She’s so professional and competent. She went to Harvard!"

"What do you mean "she’s perfect for the twins?" He narrowed his eyes dangerously.

He had an inkling to what his cousin was talking about but he wouldn’t want to believe he could be that dumb.

"You didn’t," Ezekiel said flatly, already knowing Lu Chen absolutely had.

"I did," Lu Chen replied with the biggest grin Ezekiel had seen since... well, ever. "Interviewed her myself. She checks all the boxes."

Ezekiel pinched the bridge of his nose. "You mean you subjected another woman to your unsolicited matchmaking delusions?"

"She’s not for me," Lu Chen said cheerfully. "She’s for the twins."

"The twins," Ezekiel echoed dryly. "Infants. Who, as it happens, require no matchmaking."

Lu Chen raised a finger. "Exactly. That’s why we’re starting now. Early exposure. Emotional development. Bonding. And dare I mention—nurturing?"

Ezekiel stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. "You mean interference. I told you I’d hired professionals."

"Rotating nannies," Lu Chen said, wrinkling his nose like the phrase personally offended him. "No consistency. No warmth. You treat them like houseplants."

"They are not houseplants," Ezekiel said coldly. "They are my children."

"Exactly my point."

Ezekiel’s jaw clenched. He stood, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and stared down at the world below as though he could intimidate gravity into shifting. He spoke without turning. "This is my domain, Lu. You had no right to make this decision."

Lu Chen joined him at the window, hands in his pockets, still wearing that insufferable smile. "You’ve been my cousin since we were kids, Zeke. I’ve earned every right."

"I don’t recall signing a contract."

"You were six. It was verbal."

"I was six. I also thought birds were government spies. My judgment was questionable."

Lu Chen snorted. "Still is. Especially when it comes to your kids."

Ezekiel’s shoulders stiffened, but he said nothing. His silence was louder than any rebuttal.

Lu Chen’s tone softened. "Look, I’m not saying you’re a bad father—"

"Good to know," Ezekiel cut in.

"—but you are emotionally constipated."

There was a pause. Ezekiel slowly turned his head, expression glacial. "Do you want to get punched today, or are you just experimenting with new ways to test my restraint?"

Lu held up both hands. "I’m just saying—Maya’s different. She’s not just some temp. She’s got warmth. Stability. And she’s got that no-nonsense air that will shut you down before your ice cold sarcasm can freeze her out."

"I am not sarcastic."

"You are weaponized sarcasm."

Ezekiel exhaled sharply through his nose, the closest he ever came to a laugh. "You’re infuriating."

"And you’re scared," Lu said, quieter now.

Silence settled between them like snowfall.

"I’m not scared," Ezekiel said eventually. "I’m careful."

Lu’s gaze softened. "They’ve never had a mother, Ezekiel. You’ve kept the world out so tightly I’m surprised you even let me in."

"I didn’t," Ezekiel muttered.

"Rude," Lu deadpanned. "But fair."

Another silence. This one more thoughtful. Ezekiel looked down at his clenched hands. The whiteness of his knuckles.

"She starts tomorrow?" he asked finally.

Lu grinned, sensing the win. "Ten sharp. Bright and early."

Ezekiel nodded once. "Fine. But I want a full dossier. I want every file, every reference, every recommendation. If she so much as breathes out of sync, she’s gone."

"Deal," Lu said, still smiling. "But I have a feeling you’ll thank me."

"I never thank you."

"Not out loud, anyway."

Ezekiel turned back toward his desk, brushing past James—who was trying to make himself invisible by the door.

"Still here?" Ezekiel said sharply.

"Wasn’t sure if I was fired, sir."

"You’re not."

James blinked.

"Yet."

James left.

Lu Chen chuckled. "You’re going to give that poor man a heart attack."

"I’m simply preparing him for corporate life. Survival of the fittest."

Lu rolled his eyes, already halfway to the door. "Yeah, yeah. Ice King, Corporate Tyrant, Dreaded Boss—got it. Just remember, tomorrow. Ten."

As the door closed behind his cousin, Ezekiel sat down heavily in his chair. He stared at his screens, at the blinking cursor of an unfinished report, but couldn’t seem to focus.

His thoughts, unusually, were not on numbers or deals or pending mergers—but on a woman he hadn’t met. A stranger who was going to step into his meticulously controlled life, into his home, into the fragile world where his children lived.

His fingers moved to a frame on his desk. It was facedown, as it always was. He didn’t look at it—hadn’t in years—but he didn’t need to.

He remembered her face.

The only woman he ever let close.

Gone in childbirth. Gone before he could say all the things he’d kept locked behind frost and fear.

Would Maya see his twins as hers? Or would she be another ghost in their revolving door of caregivers?

He didn’t want a stranger near them.

But he didn’t want them alone either.

Damn Lu Chen. Damn him for always knowing exactly where the fault lines were.

Ezekiel turned his chair away from the desk and let the silence of his office settle. He hated how easily Lu Chen could chip away at the walls he’d spent years reinforcing.

Still, there was no denying the truth in what he’d said.

The twins were... growing. He’d heard their laughter in the hallway this morning. It was a strange, lilting sound. Unfamiliar. Not because they didn’t laugh, but because he wasn’t there to hear it.

He never was.

His schedule was airtight. Six-thirty wake-up. Seven-fifteen coffee. Eight a.m. briefings. A revolving carousel of meetings, deals, responsibilities—and avoidance. Avoidance of the nursery. Avoidance of that room down the hall filled with little shoes, toys no one played with, and framed pictures of a mother they’d never known.

He wasn’t avoiding them.

He was protecting them.

Protecting them from instability. From the chaos of emotional inconsistency. From his own inadequacy.

The twins didn’t need warm hugs and bedtime stories. They needed structure. Safety. Predictability.

Still...

Ezekiel stood, ignoring the ache in his lower back from sitting too long. He walked to the bar cabinet, something he rarely used, and poured himself exactly one finger of whiskey. A bad habit, Lu Chen would say. An indulgent one.

He didn’t drink it.

Instead, he stared at the amber liquid, thinking of Maya. Or rather, of the idea of her. Harvard graduate. Professional. A stranger set to walk into his fortress and lay down rugs and bake cookies, no doubt.

He scoffed at his own thought.

Cookies.

But what if she was different?

Lu Chen said she was warm. Firm. Compassionate. The twins could use someone like that. He wasn’t naïve—he knew they were beginning to notice his absence, even if they didn’t have the

words for it yet.

Ezekiel pressed the glass to his lips, let the scent fill his senses, then placed it back untouched.

No. He needed to be sharp. Tomorrow he’d meet her, and she’d meet him. A test of wills, perhaps. One he didn’t plan to lose.

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