
The contract ends in two weeks. He knows. She knows. Neither of them has brought it up.
Isla Quinn needed a husband for six months to satisfy an investor clause she'd agreed to at twenty-three and spent three years forgetting existed. Cole Mercer needed a wife to claim a board seat his grandfather built a prenuptial clause around. The exchange was clean and in writing. What wasn't in writing: the handwritten note he left about the slow hot water tap on the second morning, the fact that he showed up at 3 AM with a printed decision matrix when her supplier dropped out, the specific way he argues about things he's already decided. The contract has a clear end date. Cole seems to have forgotten what it is.
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