By dawn, the rumor had become a wildfire.
Haruka's phone buzzed incessantly on her nightstand—a relentless parade of notifications. She stared at the ceiling, sleepless, as Twitter trends mocked her:
#CEOSecretRomance
#NakanoScandal
"Who is Haruka Mizuno? The woman 'dating' Japan's most elusive billionaire."
Her sister had called three times. Her mother once, voice trembling: "Is it true? Why didn't you tell us?"
At Nakano Holdings, the fallout was measured in numbers. The stock ticker flashed red at market open, shares plunging 8% by midday. Investors demanded answers. Clients murmured about "instability."
2:14 PM. Boardroom A.
Rinji stood at the head of the mahogany table, his steel-gray suit immaculate, betraying nothing. The twelve board members—all men over sixty, their faces carved from the same stern stone—leaned forward in unison.
"This," Chairman Watanabe hissed, slapping a tabloid onto the table. The headline screamed: "LOVE IN THE OFFICE? Nakano CEO's Risky Affair!" "This is untenable. Our investors are panicking."
Rinji's gaze didn't waver. "It's a baseless rumor. Mizuno-san and I have no personal relationship."
"Irrelevant." Director Saito, a viper in a silk tie, steepled his fingers. "Perception is reality. You've let this fester for twelve hours. The stock—"
"Will recover." Rinji's voice cut like a blade. "We issue a denial. Sue the outlets. Move on."
Watanabe snorted. "Deny? The public thinks you're lying. Your 'no comment' last night was a gift to every gossip blog in Japan." He leaned back, eyes narrowing. "There's only one way to salvage this."
A beat of silence.
"Marry her."
Rinji froze.
3:47 PM. Haruka's Office.
The summons came via a terse email: "Conference Room B. Now. —RN"
Haruka's heels clicked like gunshots down the hallway. Colleagues scattered, their whispers trailing her: "…slept her way up…" "…why her?"
She found Rinji silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Tokyo skyline a blur behind him. He didn't turn.
"Sit."
She remained standing. "I didn't start that rumor."
"I know." His reflection in the glass was unreadable. "The board proposes a solution. A… contractual marriage."
Haruka laughed—a sharp, brittle sound. "Are you joking?"
"They believe confirming a relationship will reframe the narrative. A love story, not a scandal." His tone was clinical, as if discussing a merger. "Six months. Public appearances. Separate lives otherwise. Compensation for your… inconvenience."
Her nails bit into her palms. "You expect me to marry you to save face?"
Finally, he turned. His eyes were arctic, but she caught the flicker—a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Your career is also at stake. The Tanaka account? The promotion? All will be scrutinized. This… arrangement protects us both."
Us. The word hung between them, venomous and sweet.
5:02 PM. Legal Department.
The contract was thirty pages thick.
Haruka skimmed clauses under the fluorescent glare: No cohabitation. No physical contact. $2 million upon termination. Strict confidentiality.
Rinji stood across the room, arms crossed, as his lawyer droned on. "—breach of contract voids all compensation. Sign today, announce tomorrow. A press conference…"
Haruka's pen hovered over the signature line. Her father's voice echoed in her head: "Never let them see you bend."
But the alternative? A lifetime of whispers. A career in ruins.
She signed.
Rinji's pen scratched beside hers, swift and sure. For a heartbeat, their hands nearly brushed. He recoiled first.
"This changes nothing," he said, buttoning his suit jacket.
Outside, rain slashed the windows. Somewhere in the storm, a shutter clicked.
Tomorrow, the world would believe they were in love.
Tonight, they were strangers.