The silence settled between them like a heavy, almost tangible weight. Michael understood that one more second — and she would simply leave, leaving him alone with failure.

— It’s not what you think, — he exhaled. — I need a formal marriage. A one-year contract. No obligations. I’ll pay so much that you won’t have to work here anymore.

Sara looked at him for a long time, as if she was not checking the words but the man behind them.

— You want to save your reputation, — she said quietly. — And I’m supposed to become a decoration?

For the first time, he had no ready answer.

— I’m not afraid of being alone, — he admitted at last. — I’m afraid of looking weak.

— Weakness is being ready to buy a person instead of being honest, — she replied and walked away.

Ten minutes later, he went down to the garden and canceled the ceremony. Cameras were filming, guests were whispering, his mother was watching coldly, but he spoke calmly and directly. For the first time without profit and without playing a role.

In the following days, he unexpectedly thought about Sara often. The only person who had not sold herself for the offered millions and had chosen dignity. Her calm gaze troubled him more than any headline.

A week later, he found himself at the same hotel again, now without press or entourage. Seeing her in the lobby, he approached without rushing.

— Now without contracts, — he said softly. — May I invite you to dinner?

Sara looked at him carefully, as if checking whether he had truly changed. And this time, she did not hurry to leave.