20.New home to board meeting
Eva folded her arms, glaring at him.
Neil’s lips tugged slightly, not quite a smile, but something softer than his usual indifference.
Without warning, he stepped closer. Each movement is deliberate, calm, almost… possessive.
Eva froze, her heart thudding as his tall frame closed the space between them. She instinctively backed a little until the wall brushed her spine.
Neil leaned just close enough, his breath ghosting against her ear. His voice dropped into that low, velvety tone that made her stomach knot.
"You don’t have to worry so much, Eva…" he whispered, a flicker of amusement in his words, “we’ve got separate rooms.”
For a heartbeat, she just stared at him, wide-eyed, her brain scrambling between panic and disbelief.
Then—relief. An audible breath left her lips as she muttered, half annoyed, half flustered,
“Good. Because for a second there, I thought you were going to act like an actual husband.”
Neil smirked, pulling back slowly, eyes glinting.
“I can if you want me to.”
“That’s not in the contract !”
Eva shot him a glare, trying to cover the warmth rising on her cheeks, but her lips betrayed her with the tiniest twitch upward.
Eva entered her room, her steps slowing as she glanced around. It was nothing less than beautiful—soft shades, wide windows letting in warm light, a touch of elegance but simple enough to feel like her.But it was new , plains and empty.
If she has to live here for a whole year she needs to change it.
She lingered at the door of the master bedroom across the hall, noticing it was untouched, empty. So Neil had really moved himself into a different room. A sigh of relief left her chest.
Turning back, she sat on her bed, fingers brushing the fabric of the duvet. He actually thought of my taste… how? The room didn’t feel foreign. It felt… chosen. Thought through. That realization tugged at her chest, though she quickly shook it off.
Her eyes closed, and instantly, Ria’s face, their grandparents’ voices filled her mind. A rush of emotions—the price she paid, the contract, the lie they now lived.
Her phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand. Ria calling.
Eva swiped instantly.
“Ria?” her voice softened, almost breaking.
“EVA!” Ria’s cheerful scream nearly deafened her. “You’re alive! You didn’t forget your only sister in the span of one rich-man contract?”
Eva smiled, shaking her head. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s been… what? Half a day?”
“Half a day too long,” Ria teased. Then her tone softened. “How’s the new house? The rooms? Oh wait—do you both share a room already?”
Eva choked. “RIA!”
“No. Separate rooms,” Eva said quickly, trying to steady her blush. “And the house is… actually nice. Too nice. Like it was designed for me. It’s scary.”
“Scary? Or sweet?” Ria’s tone carried a teasing sing-song.
Eva stayed quiet for a beat, looking around the room again. “...Maybe both.”
There was silence for a moment, a sisterly understanding settling in. Then Eva asked softly, “How’s Grandpa today? And Grandma?”
“They’re fine. Worried, but I keep telling them you’re okay. That you’re just busy with work. They believe me… for now,” Ria admitted.
Eva pressed her lips together. The weight of secrets pressed heavier than the contract itself.
“Eva…” Ria’s voice dropped lower, gentler. “You did this for me. I know that. And I hate that you had to. But we’ll survive this year, okay? You’re not alone. You’ve still got me—even if you’re pretending to be Mrs. Doctor Mechine”
“Do you even know how many ideas I had in my head for your wedding? I had everything planned—colors, themes, even your dress shade. And what did you give me? A plain courthouse stamp and gone?!”
"Shade? Aren't all the wedding dresses white?"
"Nope, white has shades"
Eva smiled faintly, lying back on the pillow. “Ria…”
“No, listen to me,” Ria huffed. “I wanted lights everywhere. A beautiful stage dripping in flowers. You walking down with me and Grandpa on either side. Groom waiting, nervous, trying to act cool in his suit. Guests whispering about how gorgeous my sister looks. That’s how it was supposed to be.
But this? This was so plain, so dull… so not you. ”
Eva closed her eyes, her heart tugging. “It’s fake, Ria.” Her voice came out softer than she expected.
Silence lingered on the other end. Then Ria whispered, “…I know. But still. Even if it was fake, you deserve magic, Eva. You deserve the kind of love story people write books about.”
Eva’s throat tightened. She bit her lip. “Not everyone gets that, Ri.”
Ria softened. “Are you okay there? The house doesn’t feel too… cold?”
Eva glanced around the large, quiet room. Her hand brushed the soft duvet. “It’s… beautiful, actually. But it doesn’t feel like home.”
“Hmm,” Ria hummed knowingly. “That’s because I’m not there.”
Eva smiled through her tears. “Exactly.”
Both slept talking to eachother about about everything that universe has.They are professional yappers indeed.
Eva stirred awake, her eyes heavy. The ceiling above her wasn’t the one she was used to. For a second, her heart jumped—until she remembered. Oh. Right. Not home anymore… not really.
She turned her head toward the clock on the nightstand—her eyes widened.
“Oh no, no, no…” she gasped, throwing the blanket aside.
Panic shot through her. She rushed to the washroom, quickly changed into her scrubs, tied her hair into a neat bun, and grabbed her bag. The commute felt longer than from her little Walter home, and each tick of the clock made her chest tighten.
By the time she arrived at the hospital, she was practically jogging through the corridors.
Her rounds started as usual—the familiar rhythm of checking charts, listening to patients, offering smiles. That steadiness grounded her, but a small part of her brain was distracted.
She hadn’t seen him. Not even once.
No cold, bossy commands echoing in the hallway. No stern “Dr. Walter” correcting her posture or questioning her notes. Nothing.
Her fake husband, her mentor, the man who had turned her life upside down… was nowhere to be found.
Neither at the hospital nor at home.
Where is he?
He stood in front of the mirror, buttoning the crisp white shirt, pulling on his charcoal suit jacket. Not scrubs today. Today was about the Morris estate… about business.
On the dresser lay the folded marriage certificate. He picked it up, slipped it carefully into his briefcase, and paused. His jaw tightened. Changing the clause was necessary, and the estate wouldn’t leave him in peace otherwise.
He grabbed his car keys and walked out of his room.
Just as he passed the next door, he noticed it wasn’t locked. Eva’s room. A small frown creased his forehead. With quiet steps, he pushed the door open an inch.
His eyes softened.
There she was, curled up in the large bed, the blanket tugged halfway, her hair scattered across the pillow in a messy bun that had come undone. A crease marked her cheek from sleeping on her arm, her lips slightly parted. Completely unaware of the world.
For a man used to precision, order, and discipline, the sight was oddly… disarming.
She looked so young. Too young for the chaos she had been dragged into.
Neil leaned against the doorframe for a moment longer than he should have, silently taking in the fragile peace of her face. His fingers twitched, almost as if he wanted to fix the stray strand of hair on her forehead—but he stopped himself.
Instead, a faint smirk curved his lips as he whispered under his breath,
“Sleep, Mrs. Morris… you’ll need it.”
He quietly closed the door, locking it from outside this time, before heading down the stairs and stepping into his car.
The long, familiar driveway to the Morris estate stretched before him, lined with perfectly trimmed hedges that somehow felt more like guards than plants. He hadn’t driven down here in months—and the heavy stone mansion looming at the end reminded him exactly why.
Inside, the air was cold as ever. Staff moved silently, bowing when he passed. The silence was oppressive, thick with expectations that never belonged to him but had been chained around his neck since childhood.
The study door was ajar.
“Neil,” his father’s deep voice boomed before he could step in, as if he’d been waiting.
“I don’t have much time,” Neil replied evenly. “I came to settle the matter of the clause you forced into the company agreement.”
His father’s lips curved in the faintest mockery. “Ah, the marriage condition.” He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me, son, how does a man who swore off attachments suddenly walk into marriage?”
Without a word, Neil pulled out the folded marriage certificate, laying it flat on the mahogany desk.
His father’s eyes flickered over the official stamp, the signatures, the date. For a split second, his brows rose—the only sign of surprise.
“Eva Walter,” he read aloud slowly, his tone testing. “A resident doctor… working under you at Harmony Care Hospital.” He looked up, piercing. “You expect me to believe this isn’t a stunt?”
Neil met his gaze without flinching. “It doesn’t matter if you believe it. It’s legal. Which means the clause is fulfilled.”
For the first time, Mr. Morris Sr. chuckled low, almost amused. “So my son married in haste, without pomp, without family. No mansion celebration, no society headlines. A… plain little doctor.” He tapped the paper with one finger. “What’s your angle, Neil?”
Neil’s silence was his shield. His father leaned forward, voice cutting.
“You can lock me out of your life, move out of this house, bury yourself in hospitals—but you forget, Neil… you are a Morris. And everything you do drags this family’s name with it.
This marriage of yours… if it’s fake, it will destroy you.
And if it’s real—” he paused, his eyes narrowing, “—then she will.”
Neil calmly retrieved the certificate and slid it back into his briefcase. His voice was clipped, cold.
“I didn’t come here for your approval. Only for your acknowledgment. The clause is satisfied. Remove it from the agreement.”
His father, raising a brow. “Sure.”
The boardroom was a gleaming stretch of glass and steel, the long table polished to perfection, lined with the most powerful men and women in the company. Everyone was already seated, murmuring in anticipation.
Neil entered with Ryle and Denver by his side. Their father was already at the head of the table, a commanding presence in his charcoal suit, the Morris crest shining faintly on his lapel. The moment Neil stepped in, the whispers grew—sharp eyes turning toward him, expectant.
“Mr. Neil Morris,” the chairman of the board said, rising slightly. “We’ve waited a long time for this day.”
Neil inclined his head politely, his expression steady and unreadable.
Ryle smirked in his seat, leaning back, clearly enjoying the drama. Denver tapped his pen against the folder, quietly observing, sharp as always.
The room settled. Mr. Morris Sr. stood, his deep voice echoing through the high-ceilinged chamber.
“As you all know, Morris Corporates has been without a Chief Executive Officer since… Callum.” He paused, a flicker of something crossing his eyes, quickly masked.
“My eldest son was a brilliant leader. Sharp, strategic, unyielding. But mistakes—” he clipped the word, “—cannot be ignored. The company suffered because of them. And Callum paid his price.”
An uncomfortable silence passed through the room. Everyone knew the official story, but no one dared question it.
Neil’s jaw tensed. He knew his brother wasn’t what his father painted him to be—but like everyone else, he remained silent.
“And so,” Mr. Morris Sr. continued, his gaze sweeping the room, “it is time for a new era. A Morris worthy of this seat.”
All eyes turned to Neil.
The chairman smiled, motioning toward him. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our new Chief Executive Officer… Dr. Neil Morris.”
The applause was immediate, thunderous, echoing off the glass walls. Some board members even stood to shake his hand.
Neil accepted it with calm composure, though his pulse raced beneath his suit. He wasn’t just a surgeon anymore—he was stepping into an empire he never wanted, one his father had chained him to.
Denver leaned close and whispered with a smirk, “Congrats, brother. Surgeon by day, CEO by… well, apparently also by day.”
Ryle chuckled, loud enough for Neil to hear. “Guess marriage does change a man. One week a doctor, next week a husband, and now—boom—CEO.”
Neil shot him a sharp look that instantly shut him up, but his father’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t missed that jab.
Neil walked to the head of the table, taking his seat. The applause faded, the air growing heavier again.
He rested his hands on the polished wood, gaze sweeping over the board. His voice was steady, clipped, commanding:
“I may be new to this chair, but I am not new to responsibility. I don’t believe in mistakes being hidden, and I don’t believe in excuses.
If you expect me to run this company as my father or brother did, you’re mistaken.
I will run it my way—efficient, sharp, and accountable.
Morris Corporates doesn’t need a figurehead. It needs a leader.”
The board members exchanged impressed looks.
From the corner of his eye, Neil caught his father watching him intently—expression unreadable, but his clenched jaw gave him away.
In Mr. Morris’ office – only Neil, Ryle, and Denver present
Mr. Morris sat behind the wide mahogany desk, leaning back in his chair with a tired sigh but a spark of determination in his eyes. The marriage certificate lay on the corner, still fresh, still binding.
Mr. Morris: ("finally decisive") Now I am free from this office drama. Tomorrow, we start Callum’s case.
Ryle leaned forward, his tone sharp but eager, his lawyer’s instinct kicking in.
Ryle: I’m on it. I’ve already started the case study, digging into old files, witness statements—there’s a loophole somewhere, I’ll find it.
Neil stood near the window, arms crossed, his posture stiff. His voice carried no hesitation, only steel.
Neil: We’re not dragging this any longer. Callum has wasted an year in prison for something he didn’t do. We need him out—and fast.
Mr. Morris straightened at Neil’s tone, almost like a warning, but didn’t interrupt.
Neil (turning, eyes locked on his father): I don’t care what politics or old enemies stand in the way. I’ll rip them apart if I have to. Callum is coming home.
The air in the room shifted—he wasn’t asking permission. He was announcing it.
Denver, quiet until now, exchanged a look with Ryle. Both noticed it: Neil wasn’t just fighting for justice—he was fighting with an intensity that almost dared his father to stop him.
Mr. Morris exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.
Mr. Morris: Careful, Neil. The truth about that night… it’s not as simple as you think.
Neil didn’t flinch.
Neil: Then I’ll find out what is simple. Who set him up. And why you didn’t stop it.
Silence fell. Heavy. Dangerous.
Mr.morris left.
Neil was standing by the shelf, pulling out a thick legal file, when Ryle casually sprawled across the sofa, hands behind his head. Denver leaned against the desk, a smug grin tugging at his lips.
Ryle (teasing): So… Dr. Machine is officially a married man now. ("mock gasp") Never thought I’d live to see the day.
Neil shot him a glare.
Neil: Don’t start.
Denver (smirking): Oh, we’re just warming up. You didn’t even warn us. One morning you’re bossing interns at the hospital, next morning—boom—wife.
Ryle (snickering): And not just any wife. Sweet Eva Walter. Sunshine to your thundercloud. Tell me, Neil, was it a shotgun wedding? When did the love story stared?
Neil pinched the bridge of his nose.
Neil: It’s none of your business.
Ryle (grinning wider): That’s exactly why it is our business.
Denver (joining in): Poor Eva. Does she know what she signed up for? Living with you is like being married to a human schedule planner. Wake up. Work. Scowl. Sleep. Repeat.
Neil’s jaw tightened, but his ears betrayed him—just a faint shade of red.
Ryle (mock whisper to Denver): Look at him. He’s blushing.
Neil (snapping, turning to Ryle): I am not blushing.
Denver (laughing): Sure. Whatever you say, Mr. Husband.
Ryle got up and dramatically patted Neil’s shoulder.
Ryle: Don’t worry, brother. We’ll make sure Eva doesn’t run away before your one-year contract ends.
Neil gave them both his infamous death glare.
Neil: Out. Both of you.
But as they left the study, Ryle and Denver were laughing, whispering jokes about honeymoon checklists, while Neil stood there, annoyed—yet his fingers brushed unconsciously over the edge of the marriage certificate still on his desk.
Eva wandered among the rows of vibrant flowers, inhaling the soft fragrance of jasmine and roses. Her tote bag already held a few small pots, and she carefully examined a cluster of sunflowers.
“Hmm… these will brighten up the balcony,” she murmured to herself, reaching for the tallest one.
“Excuse me,” a gentle voice said from behind. “Do you think these need more sunlight or just a little water?”
Eva turned to see a woman around her age holding a small pot of lavender. She had warm eyes and an easy smile.
“Oh! Um… probably a bit more sun. I read somewhere that lavender likes full sun,” Eva replied, adjusting her tote.
The women laughed softly. “You know your plants, huh? I just buy them and hope for the best.”
Eva grinned. “That’s me! Total hopeful gardener. I name my plants too… it helps me… uh, talk to them. Don’t judge.”
“No judgment here,” Cynthia said, tilting her head. “I’m Cynthia, by the way. And you are…?”