The pen felt heavier than it should have.
Amelia's fingers hovered above the dotted line, the black ink glinting faintly under the soft office light. Her name—neat, printed, empty—waited below, like a trap.
The contract lay open across Damien's glass desk, a weapon disguised as paper. It was frighteningly simple for something that could alter the course of her entire life.
Section 1: DurationThe marriage will remain legally binding for one (1) calendar year. No extensions. No renewals.
Section 2: CompensationA sum of $500,000 will be wired upon the signing of this agreement. An additional $500,000 will be transferred upon legal dissolution of marriage.
Section 3: BoundariesNo physical intimacy required or expected.No interference in business or personal matters outside agreed public appearances.No discussion of private family matters to the media.No emotional involvement.
Section 4: Termination ClauseAny breach of terms will result in forfeiture of compensation.Divorce before 365 days voids all payments.
No love. No touch. No expectations.
Just a price tag and a performance.
Amelia felt her stomach twist. She couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at her like a person—not a problem, not a burden, not a transaction.
Across from her, Damien sat in silence. Regal. Watchful. Like a man waiting for a deal to close, not a marriage to begin.
"What happens if I say no?" she asked quietly.
He tilted his head. "Then you leave. Simple as that. You walk out that door and take your chances elsewhere."
She thought of the hospital.
Of the machines keeping Caleb alive.
Of the way he clutched her hand at night, too tired to speak, but always whispering, "Don't give up on me, Amy."
Her voice was barely audible. "You really think money can solve everything?"
"No," Damien said. "But it's a start."
She looked up at him then. Really looked.
And something inside her shifted.
There was a coldness in his gaze, yes—but beneath it, something else. A kind of sadness so deeply buried it was almost invisible. Like his heart had been broken and bricked over years ago. She didn't know what had shattered it—but she knew that whatever this marriage was to him, it wasn't a game.
He needed this. Desperately.
Just like she did.
Amelia exhaled slowly. Then signed her name.
The sound of pen against paper was soft, final.
When she looked up, Damien had already taken the document, his expression unreadable. He stood, buttoning his suit with practiced grace.
"You'll be moved into my penthouse this weekend," he said. "My assistant will arrange the public announcement, ring fitting, and wedding registration."
"So that's it?" Amelia said, standing slowly. "I'm just… your wife now?"
He looked at her for a moment. Then, with the faintest trace of irony:"Congratulations, Mrs. Ashford."
That Night
Amelia lay awake in her tiny apartment, eyes fixed on the cracks in the ceiling. The contract was folded beside her, tucked into her pillowcase like a secret. Her phone buzzed with a bank notification.
$500,000 received.
She covered her mouth with her hand.
She'd done it.
Her little brother's treatment could begin. They wouldn't have to leave the city. He could live.
But the thought that chased her into sleep was not relief.
It was a man with gray eyes and a voice like ice who now owned one year of her life.
Damien's Office – Later That Night
Damien Ashford sat alone, his office dark except for the city lights spilling through the window.
He held her signed contract in his hand.
A wife. A legal shield. A necessary inconvenience.
And yet…
Her eyes had looked at him like no one else's ever had. Not with fear. Not with flattery. With fire. With refusal. She didn't want his money—she needed it. But that didn't mean she respected him.
He didn't know whether that made her a threat… or something far more dangerous.
🖤Next Chapter Preview:Amelia steps into a life of wealth, secrets, and strict schedules. But beneath the surface of luxury lies tension—and sparks—that neither of them are ready to admit.