📖 Marriage in the Tycoon’s Circle: Contract or Destiny?

My life—Luu Nhien, the pampered, arrogant young lady of the Luu family—suddenly became intertwined with the Trieu family, one of the richest and most powerful clans. The irony was that my best friend, Ha Linh, and I became sisters-in-law in the same house.

Ha Linh, gentle but strong in love, married Trieu Phi, the youngest brother. Trieu Phi, with his “baby face” and “puppy-like” charm, was a hot boy dominating social media. I, however, “closed the deal” with the eldest brother, Trieu Han—the silver screen god, a top movie star whose handsome, aloof presence made one’s heart skip a beat.

My marriage to Trieu Han was a business alliance, a set-up fueled by my initial infatuation with his perfect face and Ha Linh’s enthusiastic matchmaking. I thought we’d have an ally against a difficult mother-in-law. Yet, six months in, my marriage was bland as water. Trieu Han was always on set, barely home, and he hadn’t even touched me on our wedding night. Rumors claimed his heart still belonged to his deceased first love, and I was merely a stand-in.

My initial curiosity about Trieu Han’s “female-avoiding” nature quickly morphed into suspicion and fury. A body like his—”model-perfect, broad shoulders, slim waist, and toned backside”—was determined to be celibate? Why marry me then? My Luu family pride demanded an answer.

Everything erupted when Ha Linh declared: “I’ve had enough, I’m getting a divorce!”

That very night, while Trieu Han was coolly “prophesying” our next divorce on live TV, my best friend was firmly planted on my sofa, eyes swollen and streaming with tears. Trieu Phi was kneeling dejectedly outside the door, begging for an explanation. The proof: a video of Trieu Phi secretly taking actress Lieu Nhu into a hotel.

“Do you want a divorce too?” Ha Linh asked, her eyes glistening.

I gritted my teeth, my pride and my half-year of being ignored by Trieu Han reaching a boiling point: “If you divorce, I divorce too.”

The two sisters-in-law made a pact: Ha Linh first, then me. Immediately, Ha Linh, with the aura of a queen, strode downstairs, leaving a pale-faced Trieu Phi still kneeling. I texted my divorce papers to Trieu Han, receiving only a cold reply: “Fine.”

We began packing. I didn’t want to leave anything behind for the Trieu family, especially the watch I had gifted Trieu Han. While packing, I curiously sneaked into Trieu Han’s forbidden study. It was dark, and the walls were covered with photos.

The next morning, Ha Linh and I carried our suitcases downstairs. The two Trieu brothers were already seated on the sofa, as if awaiting trial. Trieu Han was poker-faced, while Trieu Phi looked tearful.

“Shouldn’t you two investigate properly before making rash decisions?” Trieu Han asked, trying to control his voice.

I sneered, my arrogance surfacing: “Rash? Even if they weren’t divorcing, I’d have wanted out long ago. No love, no marriage—it’s simple.“

Trieu Han’s eyes flickered, his lips pressed tight, a vein throbbing on his forehead. But when his stepmother rushed in to mediate, Ha Linh and I, in perfect sync, made her so angry she needed aid to breathe. We walked out of the mansion, leaving the chaos behind.

Ha Linh and I moved into my family’s house. During the ten-day waiting period for the divorce, life normalized. We went shopping, ate out, and hit the dance floor.

At the club, while Ha Linh was being hauled out by Trieu Phi after a loud argument, I suddenly felt dizzy and collapsed. In my final conscious moment, I felt a warm embrace around my waist and heard that familiar deep voice: “Nhien Nhien.”

I woke up in Trieu Han’s car. Under the dim streetlights, I saw genuine anxiety on his face. Fueled by alcohol and curiosity, I reached out and touched his Adam’s apple. Trieu Han froze, veins popping. He quickly used his tie to bind my hands, sternly saying, “Nhien Nhien, don’t mess around.”

He carried me into the Trieu mansion. Once fully conscious, I felt a surge of fury. I was beautiful; did I have no appeal to him?

Driven by the alcohol and madness, I pinned Trieu Han onto the bed. His entire body was rigid, his fingers trembled, but I wouldn’t let him go.

“Big brother, what do you mean, ‘don’t mess around’?” I challenged.

I used every trick to force his lips to part. Trieu Han suddenly pressed my head down, flipped me over, and held me beneath him. He kissed me, a wild, fierce kiss, as if trying to swallow me whole.

But a moment later, he pulled back, face flushed, stammering: “Nhien Nhien, I… I can’t find the spot.”

I was stunned. The silver screen god, the top actor, was clueless about what to do? I realized he wasn’t “impotent,” but suffering from a psychological block.

I gently took his hand and guided him. He was like a child finding a treasure, clumsy but eager to please, exploring every inch of my body. His desire was great, but he constantly held back, worried I would be tired.

After that night, everything changed. I knew Trieu Han suffered from anxiety disorder and depression caused by the trauma of his mother’s death. He needed closeness, he needed love, and I was his medicine.

I accompanied him to therapy, patiently wiping his sweat and kissing his lips. The look of self-loathing vanished, replaced by radiant joy.

Trieu Phi’s cheating scandal was also cleared up: he had been set up by actress Lieu Nhu. Trieu Phi eventually bribed the actor who was present that night to get the full video, proving his innocence.

Ha Linh had known the truth for a while and had also withdrawn her divorce papers. We decided to stay married; everything was resolved.

One day, after Trieu Han finished showering, his muscular body visible beneath the towel, I turned back to tease him: “Do you want to shower together?”

Trieu Han nodded obediently, his eyes darkening. But my mother called, asking my whereabouts. I lied, saying I was with Ha Linh. Trieu Han froze, his muscles tense, but when I lightly bit his Adam’s apple, he melted.

The divorce papers were withdrawn. Ha Linh and Trieu Phi moved out, but only five steps away, right next door.

That same night, Trieu Han carried me upstairs. Under the moonlight, I was stripped bare, looking into his deep eyes. The once-aloof man had become an “uncontrolled beast.” He kissed, he possessed, he surged like a whirlwind.

After a passionate encounter, Trieu Han’s medical report fell to the floor: Psychological treatment complete.

I knew I had become the antidote for Trieu Han.

I met Luu Nhien when I was 18 and she was 17. Her brilliant light captivated me, and I secretly followed her like a silent shadow. But I chose to disappear, afraid of dragging her into my abyss.

The day Luu Nhien moved into my house, I had to lock myself in my study, punishing myself, trying not to touch her. I felt disgusted with myself, unworthy of her.

I had planned to end my life, but she appeared like a dazzling light in my darkness. I didn’t dare touch her, fearing I would taint her.

When she demanded a divorce, my world collapsed. But I couldn’t keep her imprisoned forever. The guilt was consuming me. Then, when she said she needed me, I was ecstatic.

I knew my mother jumped to her death because of my father’s infidelity, and I had lived in silence since. Luu Nhien helped me find the sound of the world again.

That night’s moonlight gently embraced us. The girl I had long loved in secret did not hate me; she chose to stay. From now on, she will never leave me again.