Married to My Playboy Boss

The car sped out of the city.

Hannah realized it after fifteen minutes. The tall skyscrapers gave way to trees, and the houses on both sides grew larger, spaced further and further apart.

"Are we going to your house?" Hannah turned to Lucas, who was driving.

"My family's estate," Lucas said flatly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "My father is waiting."

Hannah fell silent, shifting her gaze out the window.

Hannah stared into the dark road. For five years, she had managed this man's schedule, yet during all that time, she had only ever dispatched documents to the front gates of that estate.

Lucas preferred sleeping in hotels, in the apartments of whoever knew who—wherever there was a woman waiting. His own home was merely a temporary pitstop.

"Today?" Hannah sought confirmation. Initially, she had assumed Lucas would take her to his apartment or ask her to return to her own place.

"Father requested proof before nightfall." Lucas's voice was flat and composure-drawn.

Hannah's brow furrowed deeply. "Proof of what?"

"That I am married."

Hannah turned to him slowly. So, was this the reason Lucas had stepped in as a replacement groom? Did he need a married status as well?

Hannah had never expected Lucas to be caught in a situation like this.

"What do I need to do?" Hannah asked eventually, refraining from asking for an explanation regarding his words.

"Stand beside me. Do not let go of my hand." Lucas's voice remained flat and cold.

"That's it?"

"That is already difficult enough." Lucas's eyes flicked briefly toward the ring on Hannah's finger. "They will say cruel things. Do not listen to them."

Hannah turned her gaze back to the window. She had envisioned going on a honeymoon after her wedding with Ethan. Her leave request had already been approved. Yet now, she had no choice but to head to Lucas's family.

A sharp ache tightened her chest. She gripped the strap of her bag until her knuckles turned white.

A short while later, they arrived at the Ashford residence.

The iron gates parted slowly. The grand mansion sat at the far end of the driveway—three stories high, with golden light emanating from every window and soaring white pillars. It was breathtaking, yet inherently cold.

Their car pulled up at the drop-off area. Hannah stepped out simultaneously with Lucas.

"Hold my hand."

Hannah looked down at Lucas's hand. Yes, she had to play her part in this facade under this roof. Hannah reached out and took Lucas's hand.

They walked toward the massive front doors that stood imposing before them.

The moment they set foot near the entrance, the double doors swung open. A butler stood at the threshold, his eyes widening upon seeing Lucas.

"Master Lucas. You have returned." The butler bowed deeply toward Lucas.

"Yes." Lucas's tone was as cold as ice.

"The Master is in the dining room." The butler opened the door wide, stepping slightly aside to clear the way.

Lucas tightened his grip on Hannah's hand.

Hannah glanced up. Lucas wasn't looking at her, but she could sense the tension taut across his features.

They walked down a long corridor lined with family portraits on the walls. Stern-faced men filled every frame, along with a solitary young boy who failed to smile in any of the pictures.

That boy was Lucas.

Hannah continued following Lucas's lead until they arrived before a set of glass doors.

Unconsciously, Hannah slowed her pace. Her gaze drifted toward the open dining room doorway.

A long table made of dark wood, a crystal chandelier hanging above, and four people who instantly stopped talking the moment the two stepped inside.

"You're back," said a man seated at the head of the table. His hair was silver, his attire immaculate, and his voice sounded like a heavy iron gate slamming shut—harsh and commanding. "This is quite a miracle." His words carried a sharp edge of sarcasm.

"I told you I would bring proof, Father." Lucas looked at Gerald Ashford, the father who had just taken a jab at his return.

Gerald scanned Hannah from head to toe in a slow, calculating manner. "This?"

Hannah felt her face burn. She straightened her back.

"This is Hannah," Lucas said. He turned to Hannah, his expression softening unexpectedly. "My wife."

A profound silence descended upon the dining room—especially after hearing the form of address Lucas used.

A woman seated on the right side of the table even dropped her fork, causing a sharp clang to echo through the room.

"Wife?" The woman's voice was gentle, almost disbelieving. Her hair was swept into a neat bun, and her eyes were soft. "Lucas, you... when?" Diane Ashford—Lucas's mother—looked on in complete disbelief at what she had just heard.

"This morning."

Silence engulfed the room once more. The tension hung thick in the air following Lucas's declaration.

"Are you joking?" The father's voice shattered the momentary stillness.

"As I said, I would come home with a wife, and I did."