C9 Read and Surrender

Michelle’s POV

The meeting had gone better than I expected. I walked out of the boardroom feeling like a queen. Investors were responding well, clients were satisfied, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I was back in control.

Jason was right, when you take your power back, the whole world shifts in your favor.

As I stepped into my car, I turned on the radio and my favorite song burst through the speakers. The beat hit just right, and with the roof down on my convertible Mercedes-Benz, I let the music wash over me. My laughter bubbled out as I sang along, dancing behind the wheel while the city blurred by. People turned to stare, but I didn’t care. I was light. I was free. I was the storm.

Seth wouldn’t know what hit him. Kiara’s days of smug betrayal were numbered. The look on her face when everything comes crashing down? I could already taste it.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I was grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.

I tossed my keys to the gatekeeper. “Put her in the garage, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I strutted into the house, practically skipping. Kiara was in the living room, curled up on the couch with her phone pressed to her ear. She looked up at me and immediately ended the call.

“Michelle?” she blinked. “Why are you so… cheerful?”

I stopped on the stairs, tossed my hair, and smiled sweetly. “I just found the love of my life, sis.”

Her brows scrunched. “Wait—Seth proposed?!”

I laughed. Loud and free.

“Oh no, not Seth,” I said with a dreamy sigh. “He’s long gone. I’ve found someone better. So much better.”

Kiara’s fake smile faltered. “Who?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” I said with a smirk. “You’ll meet him soon. Just try not to fall for him this time, okay?”

I winked and dashed up the stairs before she could react, slamming the door behind me with a laugh.

Downstairs, I could hear her storming around in frustration. Good.

Let her stew.

Let her guess.

Let her drown in the unknown.

Ten minutes later, my doorbell rang. I didn’t need a psychic to know who it was. I padded toward my balcony and peeked down.

Seth.

Of course.

He stood there in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair styled like he hadn’t spent the entire week betraying me. His whole vibe screamed forgive me, I’m sexy.

Unfortunately for him, I was allergic to bullshit now.

Kiara opened the door, her jaw dropping when she saw him. She immediately tried to plant a kiss on his cheek, but he gently moved her aside.

“I’m here for Michelle,” he said flatly.

“Michelle?!” she screeched. “What happened to us?!”

Before he could answer, I descended the stairs with an overly dramatic smile.

“She’s no longer your favorite, huh?” I called out.

Kiara spun around, eyes wide with fake confusion.

Seth turned to me… and dropped to one knee.

No.

Oh, no.

He wasn’t seriously!

“Michelle Danilo,” he said, pulling out a velvet box and opening it to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”

I stared at him. Then at Kiara.

Then I laughed.

Long. Loud. Shameless.

I plucked the ring from the box… walked straight to Kiara… and slid it onto her finger.

“You two are perfect for each other,” I said sweetly. “Rot in heaven.”

Then I turned and walked away, leaving them both stunned. Kiara’s mouth hung open, ring glinting on her finger. Seth looked like someone had slapped him with a Gucci bag.

I strolled into the garden, unbothered.

I sipped orange juice beneath the orange tree in the backyard. One leg crossed over the other, cookie in hand, the world finally made sense.

Then I dialed Jason.

The phone rang twice before his familiar deep voice came through.

“How are you, Michelle? Hope your day’s been good.”

My chest fluttered. Just hearing his voice gave me goosebumps.

“I’m very fine,” I replied, smiling. “Thank you for asking.”

“What can I do for you?” he asked, cutting right to it.

“Seth showed up today. With a proposal ring.”

Silence.

I waited.

“Jason?”

“I’m here,” he said finally. “Seth’s more desperate than I thought. Please stay away from him. He’s dangerous.”

That was it?

I blinked, surprised. No “He proposed to you?” No hint of jealousy?

“Okay…” I said, disappointed.

“I’ve got an urgent call coming in. Richard will bring the contract tomorrow. Read it and sign it.”

Click.

He hung up. I stared at my phone.

No goodbye. No softness. No intrigue. Just cold professionalism.

It stung more than I expected.

Jason wasn’t my lover. This was a contract. A business arrangement. I knew that.

But still… I thought there was something more. At least a flicker.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the bench, letting the afternoon breeze dry the small ache behind my chest.

The Next Morning, the ringtone jolted me from sleep. I grabbed my phone, groggy.

“Hello?”

“Miss Michelle?” came Richard’s voice. “Good morning. Mr. Jason asked me to deliver the marriage contract to your office today.”

“Alright,” I yawned. “Please check in with my secretary when you arrive.”

“Will do, ma’am.”

I ended the call, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and sat up. The sun streamed through my curtains like it had something to prove.

I headed into the shower, letting hot water roll over my skin. I leaned my forehead against the tile wall, eyes closed.

What was I even doing?

This whole fake marriage thing… it was insane.

And yet, it was the most control I’d ever felt in my life.

After drying off, I dressed in a red shirt with delicate floral edges, a black mini skirt, and red heels. I sprayed on my black emerald perfume and left for the office.

When I arrived, my desk was already stacked with files. I flipped through them quickly—mostly proposals, new campaign drafts, potential collabs.

But where was the contract?

A soft knock. “Come in.” Richard stepped inside, holding a purple folder like it was the crown jewels.

“Good morning again, Miss Michelle. This is the contract. Please read it carefully. Call me when you’re done.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking it from him.

He nodded and left.

I opened the folder and scanned the first few pages, flipping through the standard legalese, dates, timeline, and press expectations.

Then I hit the clause that made my stomach lurch:

“No feelings attached. No intimate moments. No sexual activities of any sort.”

My jaw dropped.

What the actual hell?

I stared at the words like they were in another language.

This wasn’t a relationship, it was a paper wall.

No touching. No kissing. No… anything?

Suddenly, the coolness in Jason’s voice made sense. He didn’t just want a fake marriage.

He wanted zero complications.

Zero closeness.

And for reasons I couldn’t explain… that hurt more than it should have.