Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Agreement

Abby sat nervously in the waiting area of the government counseling office, her fingers twisting the strap of her worn handbag. The past few days had been a whirlwind after her first meeting with Luke at the café. Her autoimmune disorder had flared badly, leaving her joints swollen and painful, but the doctor’s warning kept ringing in her ears — the surgery could not wait much longer.

The door opened and a middle-aged counselor named Mrs. Reynolds stepped out. “Abby Thompson and Luke Harrington? Please come in.”

Abby stood, heart pounding. Luke was already there, leaning against the wall in his usual impeccable suit, expression cold and unreadable. He gave her a brief nod but said nothing as they followed the counselor into the room.

Mrs. Reynolds explained the program clearly. “This session ensures you both understand the terms. You must live together in the provided apartment and maintain the appearance of a married couple during random home inspections. Any violation of the no-romance clause or failure to comply can result in penalties, including repayment of the incentive.”

Abby glanced at Luke. He sat straight-backed, gray eyes fixed on the counselor, showing no emotion.

The counselor continued. “The contract requires you to share a three-bedroom apartment. You must sleep under the same roof every night. Public interactions should appear natural and affectionate when necessary. Behind closed doors, you may maintain separate lives with separate bedrooms.”

Luke cut in, voice flat and commanding. “We’ve already discussed the rules. Separate bedrooms, no unnecessary conversations when alone, and only act as a couple during inspections. Is that acceptable?”

Mrs. Reynolds nodded. “Yes, as long as the public facade is maintained when required. Many couples in this program choose similar arrangements for practicality.”

They spent the next hour and a half going over every single clause in detail. Luke asked sharp, lawyer-like questions about penalties, inspection schedules, what counted as “reasonable public affection,” and exactly when the payments would be released. Abby listened quietly, occasionally adding soft comments about her urgent medical needs. The pain in her joints made it hard to sit still for so long, but she forced herself to focus.

By the end of the long session, Mrs. Reynolds smiled faintly. “You both seem to understand the seriousness of this commitment. If there are no further questions, we can proceed to the signing room.”

In the next room, official documents waited with two witnesses — a notary and another government official. Luke signed first, his movements efficient and completely detached. When it was Abby’s turn, her hand trembled as she wrote her name on the marriage certificate and the contract. The pen felt incredibly heavy, like she was signing away a year of her freedom.

“Congratulations,” the notary said politely. “You are now legally married under the program. The shared apartment keys and move-in instructions will be sent to you this afternoon. However, the first payment will only be released after the initial home visit and verification that you are complying with the living arrangements.”

Abby’s heart sank a little. The payment wouldn’t come immediately. She would still need to keep working her three jobs for now.

Luke stood up immediately after signing. “I’ll coordinate the move-in. We should settle in by the end of the week.”

He glanced at Abby, his gray eyes cool. “Remember the rules. This changes nothing. Business only.”

Abby met his gaze, trying to hide her disappointment about the delayed payment. “I remember. Separate bedrooms. Only pretend when we have to.”

Later that afternoon, Abby arrived at the sleek apartment building carrying her suitcase and a heavy box of belongings. She was exhausted from her morning shift at the café, but she couldn’t afford to stop working yet. Luke was already waiting in the hallway.

The apartment was spacious and modern — open-plan living room with large windows overlooking the city, a sleek kitchen, and three bedrooms. It smelled faintly of fresh paint and luxury, but it still felt cold and impersonal.

“Master bedroom will be the ‘couple’s room’ for inspections,” Luke stated flatly. “We need to make it look lived-in and convincing. Put some of your clothes, toiletries, and personal items there. I’ll add mine. The middle room will be your actual private bedroom. The government might do a surprise visit soon, so we prepare everything today.”

Abby nodded, her cheeks warming at the idea of mixing their things. They spent the next two hours preparing the apartment in awkward silence, broken only by occasional short instructions from Luke.

She carried some of her clothes, a few books, her medication bottles, and a small photo frame of her mother and Mia into the master bedroom. She placed them neatly in the wardrobe and on one nightstand. Luke added several of his shirts, a expensive watch, a pair of his shoes, and some documents to the same space. Seeing their belongings side by side felt strangely intimate and uncomfortable.

In the sitting room, Luke handed her an envelope with printed photos from their court signing day — stiff images of the two of them standing side by side, one with his hand lightly on her back for the camera, and another showing them signing the marriage certificate.

“Place these on the shelves and coffee table,” he instructed. “Make the living room look like a normal newlywed home. The inspectors need to believe this is real.”

Abby arranged the photos carefully, adjusting them several times until they looked natural. The sitting room now appeared warmer and more personal — a convincing illusion for any surprise visit.

Luke watched her from across the room, arms crossed. “When officials come, we act civil — hold hands if needed, sit close on the couch, smile. But the moment they leave, we drop the act completely. No unnecessary talk when we’re alone. Understood?”

“Understood,” Abby replied softly, feeling the weight of the pretense. “I don’t want complications either. This is just for the money — for my surgery and your debts.”

Luke checked his watch. “The first payment will only be released after the initial home visit and verification. Until then, continue with your normal routine. I assume you’re still working?”

Abby nodded, hiding her exhaustion. “Yes. I have shifts at the café in the mornings, call center at night, and cleaning on weekends. I can’t stop yet.”

Luke gave a short nod, his expression unchanging. “Fine. Just make sure you’re back here every night before the possible inspections start.”

The rest of the evening passed in tense quiet. Abby left for her night shift at the call center, returning late with aching joints and tired eyes. Luke was nowhere in sight — probably locked in his room working on his laptop or making calls about his failing company.

The first night in the apartment was the hardest. Abby lay in her real bed in the middle room, staring at the ceiling. The apartment was so silent she could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning. Somewhere down the hall, Luke was probably still awake, completely detached from her presence.

She thought about the prepared couple’s room with their mixed belongings and the court photos in the sitting room. It all felt so fake, yet so necessary. She still had to work her jobs while waiting for the payment. The pain in her body was getting worse, but she had no choice but to push through.

Around midnight, she got up for a glass of water. As she passed the master bedroom, she noticed the door was slightly ajar and the light was still on. For a brief moment, she wondered what kind of man Luke really was beneath the cold exterior. Was he as broken by his business betrayal as she was by her illness?

She shook the thought away and returned to her room, trying to ignore the growing ache in her joints.

The next few days followed the same awkward pattern. Abby continued her three jobs, coming back exhausted each night to the silent apartment. Luke was often absent during the day, handling his own business matters. They barely spoke except for short, practical exchanges about keeping the couple’s room ready.

One evening, as Abby returned from her cleaning gig, she found Luke in the sitting room adjusting one of the photos. He looked up when she entered.

“The government sent a notice today,” he said coldly. “They will likely do the first home visit within the next few days. Make sure everything is perfect.”

Abby nodded, setting down her bag. “I will. I’m still working until the payment comes through after the visit.”

Luke studied her for a moment, his gray eyes unreadable. “Don’t push yourself too hard. The sooner the inspection passes, the sooner the money is released.”

It was the closest thing to concern she had heard from him.

As she headed to her room, Abby couldn’t help but feel the strange tension growing between them. They were legally married, living under the same roof, preparing a fake life for inspectors — yet they were still complete strangers.

The first government visit was coming soon.

And with it, hopefully, the payment that could finally save her life.

But until then, she would keep working, keep pretending, and keep wondering if the ice around Luke Harrington would ever start to crack.