Contract Marriage: The President's Stand-in Lover - Chapter 4:

When the plane landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport, the sky over Paris shimmered with a misty

shade of blue gray, carrying the soft chill of morning dew.

Vivienne followed Gu Chen through the VIP passage, moving swiftly and quietly out of the

terminal. There were no long lines, no customs delay, no waiting for luggage

everything had already been arranged with seamless precision,

a silent display of Gu Chen’s power and influence.

Seated in the back of a black Bentley waiting outside the airport,

Vivienne gazed out the window at the streets of a foreign city.

The old stone buildings, the unhurried pedestrians, the air filled with the

aroma of roasted coffee and freshly baked pastries this was the Paris she had once dreamed of.

Yet now that she was here, she felt none of the wonder, only a faint and unfamiliar detachment.

Paris… once, she had longed to come here to study art.

The memory stirred a quiet ache in her heart a dream unfulfilled,

now revisited under a name and purpose that no longer belonged to her.

They arrived at the Ritz, the most luxurious hotel in the city.

The presidential suite took her breath away gilded chandeliers, antique furniture,

silk draperies, and from the floor-to-ceiling windows,

a view of the grand Vendôme Square glimmering in the soft light.

Two separate master bedrooms stood at opposite ends of the suite.

That small detail eased her nerves, if only a little.

Gu Chen seemed to read her thoughts. As he loosened his tie and set down his jacket,

his voice remained cool and detached. You’ll take the room inside.

It’s quieter and has the better view. I have a meeting at the branch office this afternoon,

then a dinner gala tonight. You may rest or go out but take the bodyguards with you.

His tone was as composed as ever an announcement, not a suggestion.

Tomorrow’s gala… is there anything I should be careful about? she asked,

trying to keep her voice even.

He glanced her way, unhurried as he unbuttoned his cufflinks.

Smile when needed.

Speak little.

Hold my arm.

If anyone tries to strike up conversation, be polite but brief. Remember our story love at first sight. And make sure not to contradict it. After a pause, he asked, How’s your French?

It’s fine, she answered softly. I studied it as a minor in college.

I can handle daily conversation and a bit of business talk.

A flicker of surprise passed over his face.

He looked at her for a moment longer than usual before nodding.

Good.

That saves trouble. With that, he disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him.

Vivienne stood alone in the opulent silence of the suite, surrounded by gold and velvet that didn’t

belong to her world. She felt like a lost guest wandering through someone else’s palace.

At the window, she watched pigeons circle above the square below, their movements unhurried,

carefree — so unlike her own. A wave of loneliness swept through her, quiet but sharp.

She didn’t go shopping as he had suggested. Instead, she stayed in her room,

trying to untangle her thoughts. From her bag, she pulled out a copy of the marriage contract

Gu Chen had kindly given her one. Line by line, she reread the cold, precise clauses,

reminding herself of what this marriage truly was.

Lin Wei’an, she told herself silently, don’t be fooled by illusions.

This is a transaction.

Nothing more.

Expect nothing.

By evening, the stylist arrived to prepare her for the gala.

The gown chosen for her was a deep sapphire silk, open at the back, simple yet exquisitely elegant.

The color made her skin glow like porcelain, and the cut traced her form with effortless grace.

Blue sapphire jewelry sparkled at her ears and neck priceless pieces that

completed the image of perfection.

When she finally stepped out of her room, Gu Chen looked up and for a moment,

something flickered across his eyes. Admiration, perhaps, or surprise.

Whatever it was, it vanished quickly. He simply offered his arm, his expression unreadable.

The gala took place at a private mansion by the Seine. Lights shimmered over the river,

and laughter filled the air as Paris’s elite mingled among crystal chandeliers

and champagne towers.

Gu Chen immediately drew attention. He moved through the crowd with calm authority,

fluent in both English and French, each smile and word perfectly timed.

He was the kind of man who could command a room without raising his voice.

Vivienne stayed by his side, graceful and composed the perfect Mrs. Gu.

She smiled when required, responded politely when spoken to,

and even managed to charm a few guests with her fluent French.

Compliments followed, soft and sincere, and Gu Chen’s expression

shifted slightly perhaps in surprise.

Your French is far better than just fine, he remarked quietly during a lull between conversations.

She blinked, a little caught off guard. I studied hard once, she said, her voice faint.

Back then I dreamed of coming here to study art history.

Why didn’t you? His eyes were scanning the room, but his question felt genuine.

My father’s company was already in trouble, she murmured,

watching the bubbles rise in her champagne.

I had to stay.

To help.

And to look after him.

Gu Chen said nothing. Yet she could feel his gaze linger on her for a second longer

than usual heavy, thoughtful, almost… human.

The moment didn’t last.

From across the room, a tall woman with golden hair and a dazzling smile approached,

her confidence unmistakable. She carried her glass with a dancer’s grace,

her gaze fixed solely on Gu Chen.

Mon Dieu, Gu Chen! What a surprise to see you here!

The French rolled off her tongue, smooth and sweet, and Vivienne instantly sensed the change in

the air. The muscles beneath Gu Chen’s sleeve tightened.

His polite smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Elizabeth. His tone was calm, distant. It’s been a long time.

The woman laughed lightly, stepping closer far too close.

I heard you got married. I could hardly believe it.

Her gaze flicked toward Vivienne then, sweeping her from head to toe,

her smile edged with condescension.

So this is your new wife. She seems… gentle. Not quite your usual type.

The insult was subtle but sharp. Vivienne felt it land but stayed silent,

her hand tightening on his arm. What caught her attention more was his reaction

the faint tremor in his jaw, the flicker in his eyes, not of indifference but of something darker.

Pain? Anger? She couldn’t tell.

This is my wife, Lin Wei’an, he said coolly, pulling her slightly closer in what looked like a

protective gesture or a claim. Vivienne, this is Elizabeth Martin.

We were classmates in Paris.

A pleasure, Miss Martin, Vivienne said gently, offering her hand.

Elizabeth touched her fingertips in the lightest, most dismissive way before turning back to Gu

Chen. Arthur, she purred, do you still remember our walks by the Seine?

The café on the Left Bank?

Such beautiful days.

Don’t you think?

Arthur. The name made Gu Chen’s entire frame tense. His eyes turned glacial.

The past is best left where it belongs, he said, cutting her off, his voice colder now. Excuse us.

We have other guests to attend to.

Without waiting for a reply, he guided Vivienne away swiftly, firmly, almost roughly.

She barely managed to keep up in her heels.

They didn’t stop until they reached the terrace overlooking the river.

The night air was cool, filled with the distant hum of Paris traffic.

Gu Chen leaned on the railing, his back to her, shoulders tight as if holding something in.

Vivienne hesitated, watching him. She had never seen him like this not the controlled,

calculated man she knew, but someone battling an emotion he didn’t want to show.

That woman… she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, who is she?

He turned sharply. His eyes, dark as storm clouds, locked on hers.

It’s none of your concern. His voice was low, dangerous, almost trembling with restraint. Remember our agreement, Lin Wei’an. Remember your place. We are business partners,

nothing more. You have no right to ask about my past.

The words cut deep sharper than she expected.

Whatever fragile warmth had begun to form between them shattered in an instant.

Yes, she told herself bitterly. You’re just a partner. An employee. What right do you have to care?

The ride back to the hotel was silent. The tension in the car was thick enough to choke on.

Gu Chen sat with his eyes closed, expression unreadable, while the air around him grew heavier

with every mile. Even the driver seemed too afraid to breathe.

When they reached the Ritz, he didn’t spare her a glance. He strode into his room and slammed the

door behind him. The sound echoed through the suite like thunder.

Vivienne stood frozen, staring at the closed door.

The golden lights of Paris glittered through the window, beautiful and cold,

a thousand fairy lights mocking her loneliness.

That night, she lay awake in her vast bed, unable to silence her thoughts.

Elizabeth’s voice echoed in her mind the teasing tone, the intimacy,

the way Gu Chen’s composure had cracked.

Who was that woman to him? A lover? Someone he had lost?

Was this marriage his way of forgetting her?

And me… what am I in this story? A shield? A substitute?

The questions circled endlessly, tightening like vines around her chest.

She knew she had no right to ask — this was the path she chose.

A contract.

A lie.

But why did it still hurt? Why did jealousy sting so sharply for a man she was never meant to love?

You must not fall further, she told herself fiercely in the dark. Guard your heart, Lin Wei’an.

It’s the only thing still yours.

Outside, Paris glittered like a dream — breathtaking, distant, and cold.

And in that shimmering city of light, Vivienne realized that love,

in the wrong story, could be the loneliest place of all.