The cold husband

The wedding was completely non-existent. There was no grand banquet hall, no flashing media cameras, and no romantic exchange of vows. Natalie was simply driven to the sprawling, heavily guarded Vance Manor in the dead of night, dressed in a simple white lace dress that she had bought herself.

The butler, an elderly man with a meticulous posture named Mr. Jennings, led her down a dimly lit, grand hallway. "Young Mistress, the Master is currently in the study. He does not like unnecessary noise. Please be mindful of your steps and your voice."

"Thank you, Mr. Jennings. I will be careful," Natalie replied politely. Her incredibly calm demeanor and serene smile surprised the butler, who had fully expected a weeping, terrified girl dragged from her family.

When the heavy oak doors of the private study finally opened, the temperature inside seemed to drop by ten degrees.

Sitting behind a massive mahogany desk was a man. Even sitting in a customized black wheelchair, he exuded an overwhelming, oppressive aura that could suffocate a lesser person. He had a face sculpted by gods—sharp cheekbones, a straight, aristocratic nose, and lips pressed into a thin, cruel line. But it was his eyes that caught Natalie's breath. They were a piercing, stormy grey, filled with a deep abyss of coldness.

This was Sebastian Vance, the undisputed tyrant of the business world.

"So, the Lopez family actually had the audacity to switch the bride," Sebastian’s voice was deep, smooth, and laced with dangerous sarcasm. He didn't even look up from the tablet he was reviewing. "They genuinely thought I wouldn't notice they sent a nameless, adopted daughter instead of the pampered eldest Miss Melanie?"

Natalie did not flinch. She walked forward with graceful, measured steps and stood directly before his desk. "Mr. Vance, the Lopez family is desperate for your financial aid. But as for me, I am here completely willingly."

Sebastian finally raised his icy eyes. His gaze swept over her like a sharp blade. She wasn't wearing an ounce of makeup, yet her skin was flawless like porcelain, and her eyes were bright, clear, and entirely fearless. Most people trembled or cried in his presence; she stood before him like a serene bamboo tree in a storm.

"Willingly?" Sebastian sneered, rolling his wheelchair forward with a harsh click. He stopped just inches away from her. Reaching out with a lightning-fast hand, his fingers gripped her chin tightly, forcing her to look up. "Let me guess. You want a taste of the Vance family wealth? Or did your foolish father send you here to act as a spy on a cripple?"

The grip on her jaw was painful, but Natalie didn't cry out or beg. Instead, her eyes subtly drifted down to his legs, which were covered by a dark cashmere blanket. With her expert, world-class medical eyes, she immediately noticed a slight, almost invisible twitch in his thigh muscles.

His nerves aren't

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