The next morning, a sleek black luxury car pulled up in front of the small house where Elara lived. The driver sent by Arga had been waiting since dawn, carrying a message that she must move into the Pratama family residence immediately.
With only one small suitcase holding all her belongings, Elara stepped into the car. Her heart pounded loudly against her chest, fully aware that from this day forward, her life would never be the same again.
When they arrived at the massive estate, Elara could not help but stare in awe. The grand building stood tall, surrounded by a perfectly trimmed garden, a sparkling swimming pool, and trees that provided cool shade. It felt like stepping into a world far removed from her simple, difficult life.
“Miss Elara, please follow me,” said a middle‑aged housekeeper, speaking in a polite but formal tone.
She was led into the spacious living room, where Arga was already waiting. He stood by the large window, looking out over the garden, and turned around only when he heard her footsteps.
“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the sofa opposite him.
He placed a typed sheet of paper on the table between them. “These are the rules you must follow strictly while you live here. Do not break any of them.”
Elara leaned forward and read them carefully:
Call me Mr. Arga in front of everyone
Never enter my private study without permission
Attend all family dinners and business events I arrange
No guests or outsiders are allowed inside the house
Do not discuss our private matters with anyone outside
After two years, we separate peacefully, no claims of any kind
“Is that clear?” Arga asked, his sharp eyes fixed on her face, as if testing whether she truly understood the limits of their arrangement.
Elara nodded slowly. “Yes, I understand, Mr. Arga.”
“Good. Your room is on the second floor, at the end of the east wing. The housekeeper will show you the way. Tomorrow evening, you will meet my grandfather — he is the main reason I agreed to this marriage. Be polite, calm, and do not say anything unnecessary.”
Elara only bowed her head in response. She knew very well that in this place, she was nothing more than a temporary resident playing a role. There was no room for personal feelings or freedom here.
Later that afternoon, she sat on the edge of her bed. The room was large, furnished with expensive wooden furniture, and had a wide window overlooking the garden. But all this luxury felt empty and cold to her. She took out a small photograph from her pocket — a picture of her mother smiling gently.
“Mother, I did this for you. No matter how hard it gets, I will be strong,” she whispered softly, her eyes glistening with tears she refused to let fall.
Meanwhile, in his private study, Arga stood looking out the window. He could not deny that Elara was different from every other woman who had ever approached him. She had no greedy look in her eyes, no fake smile, and no hidden agenda — only honesty and quiet worry.
“Two years, and then everything goes back to normal,” he muttered to himself, trying to convince his own heart to stay cold and distant.
But neither of them knew yet: the arrival of this simple girl was already beginning to crack the thick wall of ice he had built around himself for years.