Chapter 1

Ever since I was little, I could see the expiration date of love.

The moment two people became a couple, a countdown would appear between them.

When my aunt caught her husband in bed with another woman, the number above them dropped from thirty days to zero.

When my father died, the number above my mother changed from fifty-five years to an infinity symbol.

Every day, I watched those numbers shift and flicker above other people’s relationships.

Some were long. Some were short. Some lasted only a single night.

Gradually, I stopped believing in love.

So when the company my mother left behind was on the verge of bankruptcy, and I took the initiative to propose a business engagement to Julian Shaw, I did not care whether he loved me.

But why, from the first moment he saw me, did the number above him keep going up?

…

The news that the bank had pulled our credit line came while I was looking through my mother’s old design drafts.

The CFO placed a stack of documents on my desk.

“Ms. Hart, the cash on our books won’t last until next month. Also, one of our key debts has been acquired by Sterling Capital.”

The name stamped on the acquisition documents was Julian Shaw.

That afternoon, my uncle, Martin Hart, brought several shareholders with him and forced his way into my office, demanding that I surrender management control.

“Isabella Hart, the bank is calling in its loans, and Sterling can file for asset preservation at any time. How long do you think you can keep holding on?”

He pushed a draft resolution toward me.

He had even prepared the pen for my signature.

I did not take it.

“Give me one day,” I said. “I’ll present a solution.”

At eight o’clock that evening, I met Julian Shaw.

He did not make things difficult for me. He simply handed me a debt restructuring proposal.

The debt would be extended for twelve months. For the first six months, we would pay interest only. Sterling would also provide a dedicated working capital facility.

Zinnia would have to accept capital supervision, but we would not have to surrender the brand or management rights.

The terms were far more generous than I had expected.

“This proposal needs board approval,” he said.

I closed the file.

My uncle wanted me removed. He would not easily let me catch my breath.

Even if the restructuring succeeded, Zinnia’s falling stock price could not wait.

“Mr. Shaw,” I said, “I also need a message strong enough to make the market believe Sterling won’t abandon Zinnia.”

He looked at me.

I tightened my grip on the edge of my jacket and spoke carefully.

“You’re not currently engaged, are you?”

The office fell silent.

“We can enter into a business engagement.”

“Separate assets. No interference in each other’s private lives.”

“An engagement would stabilize the stock price and make the board reconsider whether to support the restructuring.”

Julian remained silent for a long time.

“If there were no company,” he asked, “would you still propose an engagement?”

I could have said something graceful.

In the end, I answered honestly.

“No.”

His fingers paused against the edge of the file.

I thought he was about to refuse and awkwardly tried to salvage the situation.

“If this proposal offends you—”

“It doesn’t,” he interrupted. “I agree.”

When the lawyers drafted the agreement, he added one more clause.

Isabella Hart may terminate the engagement at any time without penalty.

The debt restructuring agreement shall remain independently enforceable and unaffected.

I looked up at him.

“What protection does that give you?”

Julian handed me the pen.

“I suppose I choose to trust your integrity, Miss Hart.”

I held the pen for a moment, then signed my name.

The next day, my uncle still opposed the restructuring plan.

Until I placed the draft engagement announcement in front of the shareholders.

Someone immediately called Sterling to confirm it.

Once Sterling confirmed the news, two previously undecided shareholders voted in favor.

The proposal passed.

The engagement announcement was released. Zinnia’s stock price finally stopped falling, and suppliers began restoring our payment terms.

The engagement party was scheduled for three days later.

At the party, my uncle raised his glass to congratulate me, his smile stiff.

After I finished making polite conversation with the guests, Julian handed me a glass of warm water.

“You barely ate tonight.”

He gently straightened the lily-of-the-valley brooch on my chest.

It was the first piece I had ever made based on one of my mother’s designs.

The host invited us onto the stage.

I took Julian’s arm.

As the lights fell over us, I saw a clear string of numbers appear above him.

Seven days and six hours.

My steps faltered.

“What’s wrong?” Julian asked quietly.

“Nothing.”

For a loveless engagement, seven days was already more than I had expected.

The host asked Julian whether he was willing to enter into this engagement with me.

“I am,” he said.

The number flickered.

Seven days, six hours, and one minute.

I froze.

When it was my turn, I looked at him and gave the answer I was supposed to give.

“I am.”

Julian smiled.

The number shifted again.

Seven days, six hours, and two minutes.

He picked up the ring and asked softly, “May I?”

I extended my hand and watched the ring slide onto my finger.

The countdown gained another minute.

I stared in disbelief.

From the moment we met, Julian Shaw’s number had been rising.

But I had already told him clearly.

If not for the company, I would never have chosen him.