The grand ballroom of the Han family estate glimmered like a diamond trapped under a thousand chandeliers. Elegant guests in tailored suits whispered among themselves, their eyes darting toward the marble aisle where the ceremony was about to begin. Cameras flashed. Reporters stood like hawks, waiting for one misstep, one scandal.

Sophia Lin stood behind the heavy double doors, clutching her bouquet so tightly the petals trembled.

Her father’s voice echoed in her head.

“Just marry him, Sophia. Han Corp will save us. You’ll save us.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her father’s debts had strangled their family; this marriage was the price of survival.

Through the half-open door, she could see him — Ethan Han, CEO of Han Corporation, Asia’s youngest self-made billionaire. Cold. Silent. Impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo that fit him like armor. His eyes didn’t hold warmth — only precision, as if calculating profit even in a wedding.

When the music began, Sophia felt her knees weaken. Every step she took toward him was heavy with fear and disbelief.

The whispers grew louder.

“She’s the Lin girl? The one whose father went bankrupt?”

“Poor thing. He’s marrying her out of pity.”

“No, out of convenience. Han Corp gets Lin Tech’s patents.”

Sophia lifted her chin. If she had to become a pawn, she would at least be a dignified one.

Ethan turned as she reached the altar. Their eyes met for the first time that day. His gaze was sharp enough to slice through her soul.

No smile. No warmth. Just a curt nod.

The priest’s voice echoed through the hall.

“Do you, Ethan Han, take Sophia Lin to be your lawfully wedded wife—”

“I do,” Ethan said flatly, cutting the priest off before he even finished.

The crowd laughed nervously.

“And do you, Sophia Lin, take Ethan Han—”

“I… do.” Her voice trembled, softer than the piano music in the background.

When the priest announced them husband and wife, Ethan leaned close enough for only her to hear.

“Jigeum buteo, you belong to me, Sophia Lin. Remember that.”

His breath was cold against her ear. She flinched, but forced a smile for the cameras. Flashbulbs went off like lightning.

The reception was suffocating. Sophia sat beside her new husband at the long table, feeling invisible. He barely looked at her, answering polite questions from board members, sipping his wine in silence.

When someone raised a toast to “the happy couple,” Ethan’s jaw tightened.

After a while, she excused herself, stepping out onto the balcony. The cool night air finally gave her room to breathe. The city lights of Seoul glittered far below — free, alive, everything she wasn’t.

Behind her, the glass doors slid open.

Ethan’s reflection appeared beside hers.

“You shouldn’t wander off,” he said, voice low, clipped. “People will talk.”

“I needed air,” she replied quietly. “This dress weighs more than my heart.”

A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips — gone as fast as it came. “You’re direct. Most people wouldn’t dare speak like that to me.”

“Most people aren’t your wife,” she said before she could stop herself.

His eyes darkened. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other — the heiress turned pawn, and the CEO who built empires out of ice.

“Let’s make one thing clear, Sophia,” Ethan said finally. “This marriage is a business arrangement. You’ll have your room. You’ll attend events when required. But don’t expect affection. Don’t expect love.”

Sophia’s throat tightened, but she managed a small nod. “I never asked for your love, Mr. Han. Only your respect.”

He paused. Something flickered in his gaze — confusion, maybe admiration, but it disappeared as he turned away.

“Respect is earned,” he said. “Good night, Mrs. Han.”

Hours later, Sophia stood in her new bedroom — spacious, immaculate, lifeless. No trace of warmth. The city lights painted the room in silver streaks. She sat on the edge of the bed, removing her earrings, one by one, feeling her new reality sink in.

Her phone buzzed. A message from her father:

Thank you, Sophia. You did the right thing. The company will survive now.

She typed a reply, then deleted it. What was there to say? That she’d traded freedom for a dying company? That she’d just married a man who looked at her like an investment?

Tears stung her eyes. She whispered to herself in Mandarin,

“Wo yao jianqiang… I have to be strong.”

A knock sounded at the door. Her heart jumped — Ethan? But when she opened it, it was a maid carrying a document folder.

“Mr. Han asked me to deliver this,” the maid said timidly.

Inside were sheets of paper. Rules.

Sophia scanned them:

Rule 1: No entry into my personal office without permission.

Rule 2: No media interviews unless cleared by PR.

Rule 3: Maintain a public image of unity. Privately, our lives remain separate.

At the bottom, his signature.

And beneath it, a single line in neat handwriting:

Don’t fall in love with me.

She laughed bitterly, a sound half broken, half defiant. “Too late to warn me,” she murmured. “I already hate you.”

Outside the window, rain began to fall — gentle, rhythmic, like the sound of a new storm brewing.

In another part of the mansion, Ethan stood by his study window, watching the rain as it streaked down the glass. He should’ve felt relief — the deal was sealed, the merger secure, his revenge against the Lin family complete. But instead, he felt something unfamiliar. Guilt? No. Impossible.

His phone buzzed. A message from his ex, Luna Wei:

Congratulations, Ethan. I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it. Poor girl — she has no idea who she married.

He deleted it.

But as he closed his eyes, the image of Sophia’s trembling hands as she said I do wouldn’t leave his mind.

“This is business,” he whispered to himself in Korean. “Geunyang iliya… just business.”

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just begun — something dangerous.

And somewhere deep inside that ice-cold heart… a single crack had appeared.

Morning sunlight spilled into the Han mansion like liquid gold, chasing away the ghosts of last night’s storm. The house was silent — too silent. Even the maids moved like shadows, careful not to disturb the new Mrs. Han.

Sophia woke up early, long before anyone else. Her wedding dress had been replaced by a simple silk robe, her hair unpinned. She stood by the window, staring at the endless gardens stretching out below — perfect, symmetrical, lifeless.

So this was her new world. Beautiful, but hollow.

She turned when a soft knock came at the door.

“Madam, breakfast will be served in the east dining room,” the maid said. “Mr. Han requested your presence.”

Requested. Not invited.

Sophia managed a polite smile. “Tell him I’ll be there.”

The east dining room was the size of a hotel lobby. A long glass table gleamed under the chandelier, set for two. Ethan was already there — crisp gray suit, wristwatch gleaming, tablet in hand. He didn’t even look up as she entered.

“Good morning,” Sophia said, her voice soft but steady.

“Sit,” he said without looking at her.

She sat across from him, folding her hands neatly in her lap. The silence stretched on until she couldn’t stand it. “You wanted to see me?”

He finally looked up. His eyes, cold as winter, met hers.

“I wanted to clarify the terms of our arrangement.”

Sophia’s heart sank a little. “Arrangement.” The word stung every time.

He slid a folder across the table. Inside were several typed pages — his rules, the same ones she had read last night. But now, they had more.

“Read them,” Ethan said.

Sophia’s eyes scanned the pages:

Rule 1: Attend public events as my spouse when required.

Rule 2: No emotional displays in front of the media.

Rule 3: No personal interference in Han Corp’s operations.

Rule 4: Maintain discretion. Our private life remains our own.

Rule 5: Do not question my decisions — business or personal.

She looked up, biting her lip. “And what if I break one of these rules, Mr. Han?”

His gaze hardened. “Then you’ll find this marriage far more difficult than it already is.”

Sophia let out a faint laugh — not from amusement, but disbelief. “You really think you can run a marriage like a corporation, don’t you?”

“I run everything like a corporation,” Ethan replied smoothly. “That’s why I win.”

“Then you must be very lonely,” she said quietly.

His hand froze midair, fingers tightening slightly on his coffee cup. The air between them changed — something invisible but sharp.

“Careful, Mrs. Han,” he said finally. “You’re walking on thin ice.”

“Maybe,” she whispered, “but at least I’m walking.”

They ate in silence after that. Ethan scrolled through market reports on his tablet while Sophia pushed her breakfast around her plate. Her thoughts were miles away — her father’s health, the debt collectors, the humiliation of yesterday.

Still, she forced herself to lift her chin. She would not let Ethan Han see her break.

When breakfast ended, Ethan rose from his seat. “You’ll be escorted to a media briefing tomorrow. The public needs to see our ‘union.’ Dress appropriately. Our stylists will arrive at noon.”

Sophia looked up at him. “And what will you be doing, Mr. Han?”

“Running an empire,” he said flatly, buttoning his jacket.

She watched him leave, his tall figure disappearing through the double doors. The room felt colder the moment he was gone.

Later that afternoon, Sophia wandered through the mansion, exploring hallways lined with old Han family portraits. Every ancestor wore the same expression — proud, stoic, untouchable. Just like him.

She found herself in the garden — a quiet, peaceful space filled with white lilies and a koi pond. As she leaned closer, she noticed an older woman sitting under a pavilion, knitting softly.

“Mrs. Han?” Sophia asked hesitantly.

The woman smiled gently. “Ah, you must be Sophia.” She gestured for her to sit. “I’m Mrs. Han — Ethan’s mother.”

Sophia blinked. “I thought you were living abroad?”

“I returned last week,” Mrs. Han said. “My son… forgot to mention, perhaps.” Her tone was warm but knowing. “You’re a brave girl, Sophia Lin. Marrying into this family isn’t easy.”

Sophia lowered her eyes. “It wasn’t exactly a choice.”

“I know,” Mrs. Han said softly. “But sometimes, choices come later — in how we carry the burdens we didn’t ask for.”

Her words lingered long after Sophia left the garden.

By evening, Ethan was back home — the sound of his black car echoing in the courtyard. Sophia waited in the living room, determined to speak to him. When he entered, his tie was loosened, his expression unreadable.

“We need to talk,” she said, stepping forward.

He raised an eyebrow. “About?”

“This marriage,” she said, her tone firm. “You may think I’m just here because of a contract, but I’m not your enemy, Ethan. I’m not Luna. I’m not anyone from your past. I don’t deserve your cruelty.”

Something flickered in his eyes at the mention of Luna’s name. His voice dropped dangerously low. “You know nothing about my past, Sophia.”

“Then tell me,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Tell me why you hate me before you even know me.”

He took a slow step forward, closing the space between them. She could smell his cologne — clean, sharp, intoxicating.

“This isn’t hate,” he said quietly. “This is control.”

“And what happens,” she whispered, “when control starts to feel like punishment?”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, he looked like he might actually answer. Instead, he stepped back. “Don’t mistake tolerance for affection.”

“Then don’t mistake silence for weakness,” she shot back.

Their eyes locked — fire against ice, neither willing to yield.

Finally, Ethan turned away. “You’ll learn soon enough, Mrs. Han. This house doesn’t reward emotion.”

He walked out, leaving her standing alone as the clock ticked softly in the distance.

That night, Sophia stood on the balcony again, watching the rain begin to fall — softer this time, more forgiving. Somewhere deep inside, she felt something she couldn’t explain.

Not fear. Not hatred. Something else.

“Ethan Han,” she whispered to the night. “You built walls around your heart… but one day, I’ll walk through them.”

Inside, in his private study, Ethan poured himself a glass of whiskey, staring at the contract folder on his desk. His reflection in the glass seemed like a stranger.

“She’s not like the others,” he muttered under his breath. “Aniya… she’s dangerous.”

He didn’t know it yet, but he was right.

Because for the first time in years, something in him — something buried under power, money, and bitterness — had begun to thaw.

The morning sun spilled through the tall glass windows of the Lee mansion, painting streaks of gold across the marble floor. Seoul looked alive — yet inside Ethan’s chest, there was only frost.

Sophia woke to the faint scent of coffee and the rustle of papers. Ethan was already dressed — black suit, crisp tie, an aura of control so sharp it could cut glass. He didn’t glance at her once.

“Breakfast is ready,” she said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I told the chef to make it—”

“I don’t eat breakfast,” he interrupted, eyes fixed on his tablet.

She swallowed. Every word from him felt like a door slamming shut. Still, she smiled faintly. “You should. Even CEOs need energy.”

Ethan looked up at her then, just for a second. There was something in his gaze — not annoyance this time, but confusion. She spoke to him like he was human, not a machine built of schedules and numbers.

“You care too much, Mrs. Lee,” he said coldly, placing the tablet down. “That’s dangerous.”

Sophia tilted her head. “For me or for you?”

His eyes flickered. She’s bold, he thought. Most people flinched under his stare. She stood there, calm, almost teasing.

Later that day, at Lee Corporation headquarters, the boardroom was thick with tension. Sophia, dressed elegantly in ivory, had accompanied Ethan for the quarterly review — not because she wanted to, but because the media demanded the perfect image of their “happy union.”

Reporters whispered as they entered together.

The cold CEO finally brings his wife to a meeting?

Maybe the rumors of separation weren’t true after all.

Ethan ignored the noise. But he didn’t ignore how Sophia moved — graceful, unbothered, commanding attention without effort. He hated how the room noticed her before him. And yet… something in him felt proud.

When the meeting ended, Sophia stayed behind, admiring the cityscape from the window. Ethan approached silently.

“You handled yourself well,” he said finally.

She turned, surprised. “Was that a compliment, Mr. Lee?”

He smirked faintly. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Sophia spoke softly. “Do you ever get tired, Ethan? Of pretending not to feel anything?”

His jaw tensed. “What makes you think I’m pretending?”

“Because no one can be that cold without reason,” she said gently. “You freeze everything that gets close. There must have been a fire once — something that burned you too deeply.”

He looked away, voice low. “别管我过去的事 (Bié guǎn wǒ guòqù de shì) — Don’t concern yourself with my past.”

“Maybe I already am,” she whispered.

He turned sharply, eyes stormy. “Why? What do you gain from caring?”

Sophia smiled faintly, sadness flickering in her gaze. “Maybe I just want to see the man behind the ice.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge.

For the first time in years, Ethan felt something unfamiliar — warmth creeping through the cracks he thought had sealed long ago.

He stepped closer, close enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne.

“Careful,” he murmured. “If you melt me, you might drown too.”

Sophia met his gaze, fearless. “Then I’ll learn to swim.”

That night, Ethan stood alone in his study, staring at a photo hidden in his drawer — a woman’s smile, soft and cruel. Han Soojin. The one who betrayed him. The reason he built his empire of ice.

His phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number:

“Long time, Ethan. Ready to lose everything again?”

He clenched his fist, fury darkening his eyes. Chen. The rival CEO — and Soojin’s new lover.

The door creaked open. Sophia stepped in, barefoot, holding two mugs of tea. “You’re still awake.”

He hid the photo quickly. “Work.”

She placed a mug beside him. “You don’t have to fight everything alone.”

He stared at her, the storm in his chest quieting for just a second.

“Why are you being kind to me?” he asked quietly. “After everything — the coldness, the distance — why?”

Sophia smiled, her voice soft but steady.

“Because even ice has a heart. It just needs someone brave enough to touch it.”

Ethan froze. No one had ever spoken to him like that. No one dared.

He looked at her, truly looked — the warmth in her eyes, the quiet strength in her posture. Something cracked inside him, something he couldn’t control.

“그만 와.” (Come closer.)

The words escaped his lips before he could stop them.

Sophia’s heart raced. She stepped closer, her breath mingling with his.

For a moment, the cold CEO forgot who he was supposed to be.

But before their lips met, his phone buzzed again — the same unknown number flashing across the screen.

“Tomorrow, Dragon Holdings strikes first.”

The warmth vanished. The Ice Man returned.

Ethan turned away, voice low and distant again. “Go to sleep, Sophia. Tomorrow… things might change.”

Sophia watched him, confusion and worry filling her chest. She didn’t know what war was coming — in business or in love — but one thing was certain:

She had touched his heart… and it had started to beat again.