Chapter 01

I Will Marry Him

Alyssa Prescott stood in front of the Whitmore family's grand house with a manila folder clutched in her hand.

The rain had only just stopped. The stone courtyard was still wet, and the smell of damp earth rose into the cold late-afternoon air over the city.

Inside the house, a man's voice rang out, hard and sharp.

"I've already told you, Grandfather. I will not marry Lara."

His voice was low, but it cut.

Alyssa stopped one step short of the sitting room door. Her fingers tightened around the folder until the corner of the papers bent.

She had seen that man's face on military news reports. Major Damian Archer Whitmore. A young commander often deployed to the border, known for being stern, cold, and almost never smiling for the cameras.

But hearing his voice in person still made Alyssa's chest tighten.

"Damian!" Grandfather Whitmore's voice shook with anger. "The Prescott family saved ours when we were on the verge of collapse. That promise was not a joke."

"It was your promise, not mine."

"If you refuse, then give up your command. Come home. Help your father run the family company. I will not let my grandson disgrace a promise made before people who are no longer alive to defend it."

The room fell silent.

Alyssa lowered her head. Lara's pale face flashed through her mind.

Alyssa, I can't. I love Felix. If they force me to marry Major Whitmore, I'll run. I'm serious.

Her sister had cried until she could barely breathe. Their father had sat on the hospital sofa with an IV in his hand. Their mother had not stopped praying. The company's debts, Dad's heart surgery, and the Prescott family's reputation had all tightened around their necks like a rope.

Lara was not strong enough.

Dad could not find out Lara had run.

And the Whitmores could not withdraw the help that might save him.

Alyssa drew a breath.

Then she knocked.

Everyone turned.

In the sitting room, Grandfather Whitmore sat in a wheelchair, his face severe, his white hair neatly combed. Beside him were Benjamin and Marlene Whitmore, Damian's parents. Both looked tense.

Then Alyssa's eyes met Damian's.

Sharp.

Cold.

As if he already knew she had come there to lie.

"Good evening," Alyssa said quietly.

Marlene stood. "Alyssa? Where's Lara?"

Alyssa swallowed.

"Lara is sick. She couldn't come."

Damian narrowed his eyes.

"How convenient."

Alyssa pretended not to hear him. She stepped inside and stopped in front of Grandfather Whitmore.

"Grandfather," she said, "I came to tell you something."

He studied her for a long moment. "Speak."

Alyssa held back the trembling in her knees.

"If the Whitmore family still wants to honor its promise to the Prescott family, please allow me to take Lara's place."

Marlene covered her mouth.

Benjamin frowned. "Alyssa, do you understand what you're saying?"

"I do, Benjamin."

Damian gave a short laugh.

There was no humor in it.

"So this is your family's new plan?"

Alyssa turned to him. "No."

"Lara refuses, so her little sister steps forward. Impressive." Damian moved closer. He was still in uniform, broad-shouldered and tall enough that Alyssa had to tilt her chin up. "What do you think this is? An empty seat anyone can fill?"

"I don't think that."

"Then why are you here?"

Because Dad could die if his surgery was delayed.

Because Lara would not come back tonight.

Because Mom was too tired to keep crying.

Alyssa said none of it.

She lifted her face.

"Because I am willing to marry you."

Damian's eyes darkened.

"Willing?" He repeated the word as if it were filthy. "You don't even know me."

"I know you're a good soldier."

"Don't flatter me."

Alyssa went still.

The words struck harder than she expected.

Grandfather Whitmore slapped the armrest of his wheelchair. "Damian, watch your mouth!"

"No need, Grandfather." Damian kept his eyes on Alyssa. "She came here herself. I'm sure she prepared her answers."

Alyssa gripped the folder harder. Inside were photocopies of her ID card, proof that she was unmarried, and every document she and her mother had spent the morning chasing down. Too fast. Too insane. But things could be arranged when two prominent families and Whitmore money moved at once.

She knew how bad it looked.

Maybe in Damian's eyes, she was exactly that bad.

"I'm not asking you to like me," Alyssa said. "I'm only asking you to honor the vows if they happen."

Silence returned.

Damian stared at her as though he had just heard a challenge.

Grandfather Whitmore exhaled slowly. "I would rather have a child brave enough to speak honestly than one who runs from responsibility."

Alyssa lowered her head.

I'm sorry, Lara.

She knew Grandfather's words wounded her sister, even if Lara was not there to hear them.

Damian turned toward his grandfather.

"Fine."

Alyssa lifted her head.

Damian spoke again, colder this time.

"I'll marry her."

Marlene looked relieved, but Benjamin's expression only grew heavier.

"But I have conditions," Damian went on.

Grandfather Whitmore clenched his jaw.

"Say them."

Damian looked at Alyssa.

"First, after the wedding, no one interferes with my deployment. I return to the border as scheduled."

"That can be discussed," Benjamin said.

"No. It's a condition."

Grandfather gave a slow nod.

"Second," Damian continued, "this marriage is only a status. Don't demand anything from me. Not love, not attention, not whatever rights you imagine a wife should have."

Pain stabbed through Alyssa's chest.

Damian was not finished.

"Third, three years. If in three years this marriage brings nothing but problems, we separate."

Marlene flinched. "Damian!"

"I'm not drafting some strange contract in front of the registrar," he said flatly. "I know the law. But she needs to hear this from the beginning."

His eyes returned to Alyssa.

"Do you still want this?"

Alyssa felt as if everyone in the room were waiting for her to breathe.

She could step back.

She could go home, wake Lara, and force her sister to take responsibility.

But the image of Dad in his hospital room killed that choice before it could exist.

Alyssa nodded.

"I do."

Damian watched her for a long moment. Then one corner of his mouth lifted, not in a smile, but in contempt.

"Then congratulations. You got the position you wanted."

Alyssa did not answer.

She only lowered her head, hiding the hand that had started to shake.

That night, while the families discussed guardians, witnesses, the marriage office, and vows that would have to be rushed through with emergency paperwork, Alyssa sat quietly in the corner.

No one asked whether she was afraid.

No one asked whether she was doing this willingly.

Because the answers to those questions no longer mattered.

Only one thing mattered.

Tomorrow morning, the Prescott family would still have a chance to save Dad.

And Alyssa would become the wife of a man who had hated her from the first second.

When her mother's car came to take her home, Alyssa caught sight of Damian standing on the second-floor balcony. He did not approach, did not offer a word of farewell. He only watched from above, like a commander assessing territory that had just been forced onto his map.

Alyssa was the first to look away.

In the car, her mother gripped her hand and kept whispering prayers. Alyssa let her hold on, even though her own nails had already left marks in her palm.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" Mom finally asked.

Alyssa watched the streetlights ripple across the car window.

No.

She was not sure about Damian. Not about the Whitmore family. Not about a marriage that had not even begun yet and already felt like a sentence.

But she was sure of one thing.

If she backed out tonight, their home would collapse before dawn.

"Yes, Mom," she answered.

Her mother cried again.

Alyssa did not cry with her. She only watched the road and thought of Dad's operating room, Lara's face somewhere in hiding, and Damian's cold eyes.

Starting tomorrow, everyone might call her Major Whitmore's wife.

But that night, Alyssa felt like a stranger who had just signed a contract with a storm.

At home, Lara still had not returned.

Mom did not mention her name. Dad did not either. Everyone seemed to have agreed to close one door so the house would not fall further apart.

Alyssa went to her room, took off her headscarf, and sat on the floor.

Her phone vibrated.

The message from Lara contained only two words.

I'm sorry.

Alyssa stared at the screen for a long time.

She did not reply.

Chapter 02

Only a Status

The wedding ceremony took place five days later.

Too fast for a marriage.

Too orderly for something that had nearly fallen apart the day before.

Alyssa sat in the Whitmore family's living room wearing a simple white dress. Her mother sat beside her, prayer beads moving through her fingers. Dad could not stay long because he had just undergone the first procedure before his major surgery, but he managed to come in a hospital wheelchair.

Lara did not come.

The excuse was illness.

Everyone knew that was not the real reason, but no one discussed it.

The officiant, Alyssa's guardian, two witnesses, and the immediate families gathered. Damian arrived exactly on time in white formal wedding clothes and a black cap. His face gave away nothing.

Not nerves.

Not happiness.

He looked as if he were attending a staff meeting.

When the vows were completed in one steady breath, several people murmured thanks to God. Mom cried quietly. Marlene hugged Alyssa. Grandfather Whitmore closed his eyes as though a weight had eased from his chest.

Damian only signed the marriage certificate.

Fast.

Neat.

Without looking at Alyssa.

After the small ceremony ended, the Whitmores held a brief family gathering. There was no grand party. No luxurious dais. No music.

Only food, prayers, and forced smiles.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Mom whispered when they had a moment alone in the guest room. Her eyes were swollen. "I don't know what to say."

Alyssa held her mother's hand.

"Stop apologizing, Mom."

"This is your life."

"Dad has to get better."

Mom cried again.

Alyssa hugged her. Over her mother's shoulder, she saw her own reflection in the wardrobe mirror. White dress, light makeup, eyes that looked older than they had that morning.

She was married.

But it felt as though she had just signed a document of surrender.

That night, Alyssa was taken to the Whitmore family's temporary official residence in the military housing compound in the city. The house was not large, but it was clean and orderly. Marlene said the main house was too crowded, while Damian only had two nights before returning to his unit.

"Rest first," Marlene said gently. "Whatever happens, talk it through calmly."

Alyssa only nodded.

Calmly.

She almost laughed.

How was she supposed to talk calmly with a man who had not even looked at her since the vows?

After everyone left, the house went quiet.

Alyssa sat on the edge of the bed in the master bedroom. She had changed out of her wedding clothes and into the long pajamas Mom had packed in her suitcase. Her hair was still half-pinned because she had not had time to take everything down.

The wall clock showed eleven at night.

Damian had not come in.

Alyssa heard water running in the outer bathroom, then footsteps. The bedroom door opened without a knock.

Damian entered in a black T-shirt and long pajama pants. His hair was still wet. The scent of soap, mixed with something distinctly masculine, filled the room.

Alyssa stood by reflex.

Damian looked her over from head to toe.

"Sit."

Alyssa did not move.

"I said sit."

She sat again.

Damian walked to the small table, removed his watch, and opened a drawer. From it he took out a brown envelope and tossed it onto the bed.

Alyssa stared at it.

"What's this?"

"A copy of our agreement."

Her hands went cold.

Damian leaned against the table, arms folded across his chest.

"It's not recorded on the marriage certificate. It doesn't need to be. I'm not that stupid. But you need to keep this."

Alyssa opened the envelope with stiff fingers.

Inside were several sheets of paper.

The marriage exists to fulfill a family promise. Neither party shall demand an emotional relationship. After three years, both parties may separate by mutual agreement.

Alyssa read to the end.

There was no sentence about children, but the meaning was clear enough.

She drew a breath.

"You prepared this before the ceremony?"

"This afternoon."

"That was fast."

"I'm used to preparing an exit."

Alyssa lifted her face. "Including one from your own wife?"

For the first time that night, Damian smiled.

It made Alyssa's chest go cold.

"Don't call yourself that as if we're a normal couple."

Alyssa held her breath.

Damian walked closer.

He did not move quickly, but every step made the room feel smaller. He stopped right in front of her. Alyssa remained seated on the edge of the bed, which forced her to look up at him.

"You managed to get into the Whitmore family," he said softly. "You got the name, the protection, and the money for your family."

Alyssa's face paled.

"I never asked for money for myself."

"But your family got it."

That was true.

And because it was true, it hurt more.

Damian bent toward her. The distance between them was too small.

"I don't know what Lara promised you. I don't know what your family planned. But listen carefully, Alyssa Prescott."

He said her name as if reading out a suspect's identity.

"In front of my family, you may play the part of the polite wife. Before the registrar, you are legally my wife. But between us, this marriage is only a status."

Alyssa gripped the hem of her pajama top.

"I understand."

"No, you don't."

Damian lifted a hand.

Alyssa tensed.

His fingers stopped near her ear, touching the small pin still holding her hair in place. He drew it out slowly. Several strands fell over Alyssa's shoulder.

She leaned back a little.

Damian noticed.

"Scared?"

"No."

"Liar."

Alyssa said nothing.

Damian leaned closer. "Strange. In front of Grandfather, you said you were willing to marry me. But one touch and you look ready to run."

Heat climbed into Alyssa's face.

"Please keep your distance."

"Why? You're my wife, aren't you?"

The word sounded like a trap.

Alyssa lifted her face. "The wife you just said is only a status."

Damian went silent for a second.

Alyssa stood. This time she did not retreat.

"Major Whitmore, I entered this marriage because my family was cornered. I won't deny that. But don't confuse me with someone selling herself for your family name."

Damian's jaw hardened.

"Bold of you."

"I'm only explaining the boundaries."

"Boundaries?"

"Yes. You can hate me. You can consider me a burden. But you don't get to demean me however you like."

His eyes turned dark.

He caught Alyssa by the wrist.

His grip was strong, though not enough to hurt. Alyssa was still startled. Her body went rigid.

"Listen," he said low. "I don't like being played."

"Neither do I."

"If you cause trouble in my family or my unit..."

"I won't."

"If you try to use my status..."

"I don't need your status."

"Then what do you need?"

Alyssa looked at him.

For a moment, the honest answer almost escaped.

I need Dad to live.

I need Mom to stop crying.

I need someone to believe I'm not as awful as you think I am.

But she only said, "Time."

Damian's eyes narrowed.

"Time for what?"

"To finish my responsibilities as a doctor. To make sure my family is safe. After that, if you want to separate, I won't stop you."

Damian's grip loosened.

Maybe he had not expected Alyssa to answer so calmly.

She pulled her hand free.

"You can sleep wherever you want. I'll sleep on the couch."

She took a pillow from the bed.

Before she could step away, Damian said, "No need."

Alyssa stopped.

"I'll sleep in the study."

He took the brown envelope from the bed, then placed it back in Alyssa's hand.

"Keep it. So you remember your place."

Alyssa accepted the envelope without a word.

Damian walked to the door.

Before leaving, he stopped.

"I leave tomorrow morning."

Alyssa looked at his back.

"Where?"

"The eastern border. Deployment."

"When will you be back?"

Damian turned slightly.

"Why? Already counting the days as the commander's wife?"

Alyssa bit her lip.

"I was only asking."

"Don't wait."

The door closed.

Alyssa stood alone in the bedroom, still holding the brown envelope.

A few minutes later, she sat on the floor.

There were no tears.

Tears felt too luxurious that night.

She only opened the small green marriage booklet on the table and looked at her name written beside Damian's.

The name was legal.

The marriage was legal.

But her heart knew that starting tonight, she was not truly anyone's wife.

She was only someone who had to survive.

In the study, Damian sat without turning on the light. The agreement still felt like a hot object in his mind.

He told himself those boundaries were necessary. That woman had appeared too suddenly, too prepared, too neat with her documents and reasons.

But when he remembered Alyssa's eyes as she said she only needed time, Damian could not find greed in them.

Only exhaustion.

And exhaustion was not something he could easily hate.

Chapter 03

Deployment Orders

Two years passed with hardly any news from Damian.

That was not surprising.

The morning after their wedding, he had truly left. In two years, Alyssa had seen him only five times. Twice during holiday visits at the Whitmore family home. Once when Grandfather Whitmore was hospitalized. Once at a large family gathering. Once more when Damian came home to pick up documents and left before dawn.

They only slept under the same roof when the family was watching.

Behind closed doors, Damian always kept his distance.

So did Alyssa.

She returned to work at South City General Hospital, took long shifts, worked the ER, assisted in surgery, and buried herself in her job. Dad underwent surgery with help from the Whitmore family and slowly improved. Lara eventually married Felix in another city, after a long stretch of drama that left Mom exhausted.

Nothing was ever truly resolved.

The wounds only learned to be quiet.

That morning, Alyssa had just finished checking on a post-op patient when the chief of surgery called her in.

"Dr. Prescott, have a seat."

Alyssa saw the official envelope on his desk.

Her stomach tightened at once.

"What is it, Doctor?"

"There's a joint medical deployment program. The Health Department, the public hospital system, and the military. Eastern border region. They need a doctor with emergency surgery and disaster triage experience."

Alyssa went still.

The department chief pushed the envelope toward her.

"Your name is on the list."

Alyssa opened it.

Border health post.

Coordination with the Border Security Task Force.

The name printed on the second page made her heart stop for a second.

Task Force Commander: Major Damian Archer Whitmore.

Alyssa stared at the words.

For too long.

The chief cleared his throat. "Do you object?"

"Is this mandatory?"

"It's an official program. But you can still decline with a strong reason."

Alyssa almost laughed.

A strong reason?

My husband is the commander there, and he hates me.

Was that a strong reason, or exactly the reason everyone thought she was suitable to be sent?

"How long?"

"Minimum six months. It may be extended."

Alyssa folded the letter again.

"I'll take it."

The chief looked surprised. "Are you sure? The region isn't easy. Facilities are limited. Transfers to a major hospital take time. Roads wash out when it rains."

"That's exactly why they need a doctor."

"You don't have to answer now."

"I've answered."

The senior doctor watched her, then sighed.

"All right. You leave in three days. Prepare yourself. It won't be like the city."

Alyssa nodded.

The city isn't always kind either, Doctor.

She did not say it.

That night, Alyssa told her mother. Mom panicked immediately.

"The border? Why does it have to be you?"

"It's a hospital program, Mom."

"Does Damian know?"

Alyssa folded several work shirts into her suitcase.

"Not yet."

"You have to tell him."

"He'll find out."

Mom sat on the edge of the bed. "Alyssa, I know the two of you aren't like other couples. But he's still your husband."

Alyssa stopped folding.

"On the marriage certificate, yes."

"Sweetheart..."

"Mom, I'm going as a doctor. Not as Major Whitmore's wife."

Mom had no answer.

Alyssa looked at the half-empty suitcase.

The truth was, she was afraid.

Afraid to face Damian.

Afraid all the old insults would come back.

But more than that, she feared what it would mean if she refused because of him. For two years, she had fought to prove her life did not revolve around an empty marriage. If she backed out of a medical assignment now because Damian was there, then he still controlled the door to her life.

No.

She refused.

Three days later, Alyssa flew to the provincial capital, then continued overland with a small team toward the border town. From there, they used a military vehicle to reach the border health post.

The road twisted through dry hills. Houses stood far apart. Children in school uniforms walked along the roadside and waved at the passing truck.

Alyssa sat in the back with two nurses and a midwife. Hot wind blew through the window.

"First time out here, Dr. Prescott?" Midwife Renee asked.

"Yes."

"Don't be shocked when the signal disappears."

Alyssa gave a faint smile. "I'm more worried about running out of medicine."

Nurse Joe laughed. "Now that's realistic."

They had not reached the post when gunfire crackled over the vehicle radio.

The driver stiffened at once.

"Operation on the road ahead," he said. "We've been told to stop at a safe point."

Alyssa turned.

In the distance, several military vehicles had pulled over at the roadside. Soldiers moved fast. A man in civilian clothes was handcuffed near a pickup truck. Several white sacks lay scattered on the ground.

"Drug smuggling?" Joe asked quietly.

The driver did not answer.

Their vehicle stopped. A soldier approached and instructed the medical team to wait.

Alyssa had just nodded when someone shouted.

"Sir! He's seizing!"

Everyone turned.

The handcuffed man collapsed, his body convulsing violently. Foam gathered at his mouth. The soldier holding him panicked.

Alyssa did not think twice.

She opened the vehicle door.

"Doctor!" Renee called.

"Bring the emergency bag!"

She ran toward the cluster of soldiers.

One soldier blocked her. "Ma'am, stay back. This is an active operation area."

"I'm a doctor."

"Orders are—"

"If he aspirates, he could die before the next order comes down."

The soldier hesitated.

Alyssa was already kneeling beside the seizing man.

"Turn him on his side. Don't put anything in his mouth. Loosen anything tight around his neck."

The soldiers exchanged uncertain looks.

"Now!" Alyssa's voice rose.

They moved.

Alyssa checked his pupils, pulse, and breathing. A faint chemical smell clung to his clothes. She took gloves from Renee's bag and pulled them on quickly.

"Possible poisoning or overdose. Get oxygen ready. Joe, blood pressure. Renee, diazepam injection if we have it."

"Doctor, the bag seal hasn't been opened yet—"

"Open it now."

Everything moved fast.

Alyssa heard heavy footsteps approaching.

Before she could turn, the cold voice that had haunted the first night of her marriage fell over her head.

"Who authorized a civilian to enter an operation zone?"

Alyssa's hands paused for half a second.

Then she went back to supporting the patient's head so his airway stayed open.

"I'm not a civilian spectator, Major. I'm the doctor assigned to the health post."

Silence held for a beat.

Damian stood in front of her in a tactical vest, road dust on his face, his eyes as sharp as she remembered.

He looked at Alyssa as if an old problem had arrived carrying a suitcase.

"Alyssa."

"Major Whitmore."

Their tones were far too formal for a married couple.

The soldiers around them immediately traded glances.

Damian looked at the patient on the ground, then at the medical bag.

"Move him to the medical vehicle."

"Not yet. The seizure isn't controlled."

"This area isn't secure."

"And this patient isn't stable."

Damian's eyes hardened.

Alyssa lifted her face. "If you want him alive for questioning, give me two minutes."

The soldiers held their breath.

Damian did not like being contradicted. That much was obvious.

But he also understood the situation.

"Two minutes," he said.

Alyssa returned to work. The medication went in. The seizure began to ease. The patient's breathing remained rough, but his airway was clear. Only then did she give instructions for the transfer.

As the patient was lifted, one soldier murmured, "That doctor's got nerve."

Alyssa pretended not to hear.

Damian heard.

He stepped closer, his voice low.

"You haven't changed."

Alyssa stripped off the dirty gloves.

"Neither have you."

"Still walking into trouble without permission."

"Still calling my work trouble."

His eyes narrowed.

Alyssa dropped the gloves into the medical waste bag, then stood.

Dust clung to the knees of her pants. Sweat ran down her temple.

"I came here under official orders. If you object, take it up with the Health Department and the hospital. But while I'm here as a doctor, I will treat patients who need me. Including your suspects."

Damian watched her for a long time.

Then the corner of his mouth moved slightly.

"Welcome to the border, Dr. Prescott."

No warmth.

No question about why she had come.

Only that same cold tone.

Alyssa lifted her chin.

"Thank you, Commander."

Behind them, the radio crackled again. Another vehicle had been reported moving in from the hills.

Damian turned at once and began issuing orders.

Alyssa watched his back move away.

For two years, she had managed to live without that man.

But starting today, her field of duty, her old wounds, and her empty marriage had all landed in the same place.