Chapter 7

That morning, the usually quiet mansion suddenly turned lively when Harry’s phone rang. He picked it up lazily, but the moment he heard the voice on the other end, his expression tensed.

[Harry! I’m on my way to the mansion. Grandpa wants to see you!] His cousin’s excited voice rang through the line.

[What?! Hans Anderson is coming here?] Harry felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Damn it, his grandfather was making a surprise visit that very day.

[Yes! And he said he doesn’t want to hear any excuses! See you in an hour.]

Click. The call ended.

Harry sat there in silence for a moment before throwing his phone onto the couch. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

His grandfather must have found out about his marriage. Harry hadn’t told him directly, knowing the old man had been abroad on a long business trip.

“Sir, is there anything I can do for you?”

One of Harry’s loyal bodyguards, Jimmy, approached him as he seemed deep in thought.

Harry’s mind raced. If his grandfather came here, he would surely interrogate Arabella—or worse, put her to the test to confirm their marriage wasn’t just a contract.

“Call Arabella. Now,” Harry ordered, his voice cold.

Jimmy nodded and immediately left to fetch Arabella, who was in her room.

Knock, knock, knock!

The sound of knocking disturbed Arabella’s peaceful morning.

“Miss Arabella,” Jimmy’s deep voice came from outside the door.

Arabella almost dropped her phone. “Y-yes?” she replied, slightly panicked.

Sighing in annoyance, she approached the door and opened it slowly. She had just been enjoying her quiet time, wrapped in a thick blanket, munching on spicy cassava chips, and scrolling through social media. Now, Jimmy was disrupting her peace.

“Mr Harry is calling for you,” Jimmy said simply, like a secret agent delivering a classified mission.

Arabella, who had just stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth, immediately choked. Her eyes widened, and she hurried back into her room, reaching for the glass of water on her table—only to find it empty. She coughed and jumped off the bed, struggling to swallow the chips that now felt like bricks lodged in her throat.

Jimmy, standing outside, remained indifferent. He neither cared about Arabella’s antics nor anything else happening in the mansion.

“Ha—Harry’s calling for me?” Arabella rushed back to the door, her voice raspy, still struggling with the chips stuck in her throat.

“Yes, Miss Arabella,” Jimmy replied flatly. “He’s waiting in the living room.”

Arabella narrowed her eyes. Harry was calling for her? The same Harry who usually shooed her away? Harry whose pride was taller than Mount Everest? Harry who had looked at her this morning as if she were an annoying fly?

This had to be a trap. Arabella’s mind spun with bizarre scenarios. She knew that rich people could do whatever they wanted.

She squinted toward the door, as if trying to see through it and read Jimmy’s thoughts. “What exactly did he say?”

Jimmy took a deep breath, as if he had expected this question. “Mr Harry only said, ‘Call Arabella. Now.’”

Arabella blinked. Jimmy’s expression was as blank as ever, showing no signs of deceit.

Before she could think of an excuse to avoid going, Jimmy added firmly, “Miss, Mr Harry cannot wait.”

Arabella shot up. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Brushing off the chip crumbs from her shirt, she stepped out of her room with a wary heart.

When Arabella arrived in the living room, Harry’s sharp gaze immediately locked onto her. He looked irritated.

“Why do you look like you just got hit by a train?” Arabella murmured under her breath, not taking her eyes off the ever-mysterious Harry. Of course, he didn’t hear her.

Arabella plopped down across from him and got straight to the point. “What is it, Harry? Why did you call me all of a sudden?”

“My grandfather is coming,” Harry said flatly.

Arabella raised an eyebrow. “And why is that a big deal?”

Harry took a deep breath. “Because he thinks we’re a happy couple. He doesn’t know that we’re in a contract marriage.”

Arabella froze for a second before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God! So I have to pretend to be your sweet and loving wife?”

Harry scoffed. “Don’t overdo it. I just need you to be convincing enough so Grandpa believes we’re a real married couple.”

Arabella frowned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Should I call you ‘Darling’? Or maybe cook your favorite meal with love?”

“Arabella.” Harry’s voice grew tense. His blank expression remained, but his ears turned slightly red. This woman was starting to get on his nerves.

“What exactly do you need me to do?” Arabella asked seriously. Talking to Harry was like dealing with a woman on her period—no matter what, she always seemed to be in the wrong.

Harry sighed in frustration. “Just act normal. No unnecessary drama.”

“But I’m great at drama,” Arabella said with a straight face. She was thrilled that Harry needed her.

Harry shot her a sharp glare. “Arabella.”

“Fine,” Arabella raised her hands in surrender. “I’ll be the perfect, loving wife for the honor of the Anderson family.”

Harry exhaled, realizing he might have just made a decision that would haunt him all day.

Arabella sprang up from the couch and sprinted to her room like a track star. Ten minutes later, she returned, dressed in an elegant pastel gown, her hair neatly styled, and her face adorned with a gentle smile fit for an ideal daughter-in-law. Even the way she walked had changed—graceful, like a princess, unlike her usual tomboyish demeanor.

When Harry’s grandfather entered the living room, Arabella immediately put on her act.

“Grandpa! Welcome to our home!” she said sweetly, running up and giving the old man a warm hug.

Harry nearly choked on his tea. Since when did Arabella become this soft and affectionate?!

Hans Anderson, a dignified elderly man with a cane and a piercing gaze, chuckled in delight. “Well, well! So this is Harry’s wife? Such a lovely and polite young lady!”

Arabella shyly lowered her head. “Oh, Grandpa, you flatter me. I’m just trying to be a good wife for Harry.”

A good wife?!

Harry wanted to scream. Just this morning, she had been arguing with a maid over spilled sauce on her shirt.

His grandfather beamed. “Wonderful! A loving wife like this is exactly what I wanted for my grandson!”

Arabella shot Harry a triumphant glance. Meanwhile, Harry could only shake his head, suppressing the urge to laugh at his wife’s Oscar-worthy performance.

But then, unexpectedly, his grandfather said, “Well then, I’d like to see you two kiss as proof of your love!”

Arabella and Harry instantly froze.

Arabella turned to Harry with a forced smile. “Uh… Harry, darling? Would you like to kiss me now or later?”

Harry, barely holding onto his sanity, sighed in exasperation. Today was turning into a nightmare.