At twenty‑two, she is the sole heiress of the Hart Group, so wealthy that she never needs to work. Thus she dates full‑time, aiming to collect boyfriends of every zodiac sign. Eleven signs down, only Leo remains.
He is the young heir of the Cross family, successor to the underworld, who has never smiled at anyone in his twenty‑six years of life.
A man in a suit hands over a contract: a three‑month fake‑fiancée arrangement for ten million dollars. She is about to turn it down — until she hears the date “August 2nd” — Leo. It’s a deal.
Little does she know, he has orchestrated this “chance encounter” for an entire month. At a charity gala three months prior, he watched her stand atop a sofa breaking up with her ex‑boyfriend: “You are number eleven on my zodiac list.” Holding his whiskey glass, he smiled — for the very first time in his life.
When the three‑month contract expires, he tells her, “You’re free to go.”
She tears up the contract. “I don’t need the contract anymore.”
He pushes open the study door. The entire wall is covered with photos of her, dating back to that charity gala.
“Do you still want to stay?”
“I’m not signing the old contract — I’m signing a renewal.”
Epilogue: On the rooftop, she signs their lifelong agreement. Hand‑written on the back: “Party B shall deliver twelve kisses per month. Forever.”
