The conference room fell silent as Ethan Kade, billionaire CEO of KadeTech, leaned back in his leather chair, lips curling into a smug half-smile. “I’ll marry the first woman who walks through that door,” he announced. The words hovered in the air like a dare, a provocation—or perhaps, just perhaps, a confession disguised as arrogance.
The men and women seated around the table stared at him, unsure if he was joking. Ethan Kade was not known for his sensitivity.
He was known for numbers, ruthless acquisitions, and being the youngest tech billionaire in New York City. Love, romance, or even basic relationships had never found a foothold in his polished, titanium-armored life.
But he had said it. Out loud.
And no one dared laugh.
Ethan hated weddings. He had just returned from his brother’s outrageously extravagant ceremony in Tuscany, where love was flaunted like a trophy and guests toasted “forever” as if it were a champagne brand.
He hated the way people stared at him, asking when his turn would come—as though marriage were some rite of passage he had irresponsibly skipped. As though being wed somehow made a person complete.
He had snorted and rolled his eyes through the whole ordeal, returning home with a renewed disdain for anything remotely resembling commitment.
So when Travis, his executive assistant, teased that he’d never settle down because he was “afraid of a real connection,” Ethan snapped.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll prove all of this is meaningless.”
“And how exactly will you do that?” Travis asked.
“I’ll marry the first woman who walks through that door,” he declared, gesturing toward the glass entrance to the conference room.
A ripple of disbelief swept across the room.
“You’re serious?” asked Lauren, his marketing director.
“I couldn’t be more serious,” Ethan replied. “She walks in, we talk, I propose. It’s that simple. Love is a business transaction. Nothing more. I’ll sign the papers, wear the ring, smile for the cameras. Let’s see how long it lasts.”
They all stared at him with a strange mix of doubt and unease. But Ethan didn’t flinch. He meant it—or at least, he thought he did.
On the other side of the door, footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Someone was approaching.
The team shifted in their seats, waiting to see who fate—or madness—would choose.
Then the door opened.
And Ethan froze.
She was not who he expected…
Ethan stared.
The girl who stepped through the door wasn’t one of his assistants, nor a coffee runner, nor a panicked intern who had taken a wrong turn. She was also not a sultry supermodel or a sharply dressed businesswoman—the type he often crossed paths with.
And astonishingly, that was exactly why his breath caught.
Her light-brown hair was loosely pinned up, a few stray strands brushing a soft, rounded jawline. She wore a simple pale-blue button-down and black slacks that looked slightly wrinkled, as though she had rushed here. Oversized round glasses rested on a small, delicate nose, making her storm-gray eyes appear even larger. There was a tiny ink smudge, almost invisible, on her right wrist.
She was carrying a worn cardboard box stuffed with folders and documents, struggling to keep it balanced.
The moment she looked around the boardroom—packed with executives in expensive suits—her face turned crimson. Embarrassment and panic lit her eyes, making it clear she was in the wrong place.
“Oh—sorry,” she stammered, her voice soft with a faint New England lilt. “I… I thought this was the new storage room. I’m so sorry for interrupting.”
She stepped back, awkwardly shifting the heavy box as she tried to close the door without dropping it.
But before she could escape, Ethan—still frozen in his leather chair—forced out a single word, dry and rough in his throat:
“Wait.”
The girl stopped. She stared at him, wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.
The room went so silent they could hear the hum of the air conditioner.
“What are you doing here?” Ethan asked. His tone wasn’t accusatory—just bewildered.
“I… I’m delivering the historical records from Accounting,” she explained, gesturing clumsily to the box. “My name is… Clara. Clara Thorne. I work in the archives on the tenth floor.”
Clara Thorne. Her name was as ordinary as she was. She was a low-level employee—maybe even a temporary intern—doing heavy manual work. She was the complete opposite of the CEO’s wife Ethan had always pictured: a powerful, sharp, camera-ready woman who could stand beside him on the cover of Forbes.
But he had made a declaration. And Ethan Kade never took his words back.
He stood, confidence and arrogance flooding back into him, overshadowing the small, flustered girl in front of him.
He walked around the boardroom table, each step echoing like thunder in the silent room. All eyes were on him. Even Travis stood gaping.
Ethan stopped in front of Clara. He towered over her. He reached out, touching the tiny ink smudge on her wrist as if it were undeniable proof of fate.
“Hello, Clara Thorne from the tenth-floor archives,” he said, his voice low with a faint, dangerous warmth. He gave her a smile that only those closest to him knew—the smile of a man about to close a massive deal.
“I’m Ethan Kade.” He held her gaze, giving her no room to interrupt or flee.
“And I’m going to marry you.”
The cardboard box slipped from Clara’s hands, and the stack of documents spilled across the white marble floor with a loud thud that shattered the silence.
Clara did not faint. She didn’t run, either.
Instead, she slowly lifted her gaze to Ethan Kade, her gray eyes narrowing behind her round glasses. She took a deep breath and, with surprising composure, gave him a half-smile—bold, challenging. A smile Ethan had certainly never seen on any archives employee before.
“Mr. Kade,” she said, her voice no longer trembling. “You seem like a man who likes to make big moves. But I can’t marry you.”
Ethan’s confidence wavered—just slightly. “Why not?”
“Because you didn’t say please,” Clara replied. “And you didn’t even ask for my full name. It’s Clara Elise Thorne. Also, you announced that love is a transaction, and as someone who manages records for a living, I know that a transaction requires balanced value on both sides. Right now, you’re offering marriage just to prove a point rooted in arrogance. That’s not a compelling offer for me.”
Her unexpected intellect and blunt honesty stunned Ethan. Every executive in the room held their breath.
Ethan stepped back. He realized he couldn’t buy this woman with money or status. He would have to negotiate.
“So what do you want, Clara Elise Thorne?” Ethan asked, his voice softening a degree.
Clara met his gaze head-on. “I want a deal. If you want to marry me, you have to do something you’ve never done before: learn to believe in something that can’t be measured in numbers.”
And that was the beginning of a strange but genuine marriage.
Ethan, the man who despised commitment, signed a marriage contract that contained no financial clauses—only emotional ones:
Spend Saturday evenings together.
Learn to cook one dish they both enjoy.
Share one secret every month.
They started small. Clara taught Ethan that not everything needed peak efficiency; sometimes, a rainy afternoon spent reading together was worth more than a billion-dollar acquisition. Ethan, in turn, led Clara out of the archives and showed her his glittering world—without ever trying to change who she was.
Six months later, one quiet evening while they were repairing an old, wobbly bookshelf (another clause in their contract), Ethan paused. It no longer felt like a burden or a farce. He looked at his girl—focused intently on a tiny screw, ink smudge still on her wrist.
Ethan didn’t talk about transactions or evidence anymore. He simply said, his voice low and sincere:
“Clara.”
She looked up, her loose bun now falling apart.
“I’ve voided our original marriage contract,” Ethan said. “I don’t want to marry you to prove anything to anyone anymore.”
Clara’s heart tightened. She thought he was ending things.
Ethan knelt—not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He didn’t take out the large diamond ring he’d bought at the start, but a simple silver band Clara had once admired in an antique shop.
“I want to marry you,” he said. “Because you taught me not everything is a transaction. You are the one thing I can’t put a price on. Will you marry me—not for a billionaire’s boast, but for love?”
Tears shimmered in Clara’s gray eyes. She smiled—a smile so radiant that even Ethan Kade, a man who trusted only numbers, knew it was the truest smile he had ever seen.
“Yes, Ethan Kade,” Clara said. “I will.”
And that was how Ethan Kade, the billionaire CEO who hated commitment, found the next woman who walked through the door—and, finally, found the only woman he wanted to keep for a lifetime.