On the eve of the wedding, Ella’s best friend went missing. Ella was dragged out of bed, forced into a wedding dress, and pushed down the aisle. The groom’s family could not wait—the marriage sealed a multi-billion-dollar merger. A florist by trade, she had arranged countless wedding bouquets but never imagined she would end up standing at her own wedding altar. Her groom, Leon, was cold as marble in a suit. They agreed on a deal: one month. Once the real bride was found, they would divorce, no strings attached. Life in the wealthy household was absurd and suffocating. She mixed up cutlery, mistook elders’ titles, and called a priceless painting “nice in color.” Yet strangely, the rigid, lifeless mansion slowly began to fill with laughter. For the first time, Leon realized dinner talk could be more than stock prices—like why an orchid blooms only one flower. As they searched for her missing friend, they uncovered the truth: she had not been abducted. Instead, she fled willingly, taking away evidence of financial fraud committed by both powerful families. When the one-month deadline neared, the real bride returned. She pointed at Ella coldly: “Now you can leave.” Overnight, Ella turned from a helper into a laughingstock. She made no excuses, only laid a fully sorted account on the table—she had pieced together every hidden fraud document even the real bride could not find. Leon rejected the arranged marriage in public: “From the very start, you are the only one I ever married.” Ella was never a Cinderella chosen by wealth. She merely walked into an icy mansion, opened a window, and stayed—because she loved every flower she had planted here.
