Rain lashed against the mirrored windows of the Sinclair Tower, washing away the last traces of sunlight. Inside the boardroom, chaos reigned. Dozens of investors shouted across the long glass table, their voices echoing off marble floors and dying hope.
Ava Sinclair stood frozen beside her father. Her hands clutched a folder so tightly that her knuckles blanched white. The ink on the contracts inside was still wet — promises that were already turning to ash.
"Mr. Sinclair, you promised repayment last quarter!" one of the men barked.Another threw down a file. "We're pulling out. Cross Enterprises is buying your assets tomorrow. You're finished!"
Ava turned to her father — Richard Sinclair, once the proud head of Sinclair Industries, now pale and trembling. His lips parted, a protest rising in his throat, but before he could speak, his body swayed.
"Dad?" she whispered.
The folder slipped from her grasp as he collapsed.
"Dad!"
Chairs screeched, papers flew. Ava dropped to her knees, shaking him. His skin was cold, his breathing shallow. Panic clawed at her throat as she screamed for help.
Moments later, paramedics stormed in. The sight of the company's name being stripped from the glass doors as they wheeled him out burned into her memory like a brand.
Two Hours Later
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and silence. Ava sat outside the ICU, her blouse stained with rain and tears. Machines beeped steadily behind the glass wall.
The doctor's words were still ringing in her ears."Stress-induced heart failure. He needs rest, and he needs financial stability. His condition will worsen if this continues."
Financial stability.
The words twisted like a knife.
Sinclair Industries was gone. Their accounts frozen. Their properties under seizure. She had nothing left but debts and a single name she swore never to speak again.
Damien Cross.
Her father's former protégé. The man who'd once looked at her like she hung the stars — until betrayal shattered everything.
It had been four years since she'd seen him. Four years since he'd accused her father of embezzlement and walked out with a promise: "I'll take everything from you."
Now, he had.
Cross Enterprises Headquarters
The elevator ride felt endless. Ava's reflection in the mirrored walls looked like that of a stranger — drenched hair, mascara smudged, a woman balancing on the edge of desperation.
When the doors opened, she stepped onto sleek marble floors that gleamed like obsidian. The reception area buzzed with quiet authority. Assistants glanced up, whispering. Everyone here knew who she was — the ruined heiress, the daughter of the man Damien Cross destroyed.
"I need to see Mr. Cross," she said, her voice calm but trembling underneath.
The receptionist hesitated. "He's in a meeting—"
"Tell him it's Ava Sinclair," she interrupted. "He'll see me."
A moment later, the double glass doors of his office opened.
Inside
Damien Cross stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The late-afternoon light cast sharp angles across his face — colder, harder than she remembered. His black suit fit like armor, his expression unreadable.
For a second, Ava couldn't breathe.
He turned. "Ava Sinclair." His voice was a blade — smooth, dangerous. "I was wondering when you'd crawl in."
She flinched. "I came to talk about my father."
He studied her for a long moment before walking to his desk. "Your father's company collapsed. Nothing to discuss."
Her hands trembled. "Please. The hospitals—he's sick. The debts—"
Damien leaned forward. "You think I don't know? I warned him years ago that greed destroys. He didn't listen."
"That's not true," she shot back. "You set him up!"
His jaw tightened. "Careful, Ava. You're in no position to accuse anyone."
Silence hung heavy between them. Only the ticking of his gold watch filled the air.
Finally, he said, "What do you want?"
Her pride screamed at her to turn and leave. But her father's pale face flashed in her mind. She swallowed hard. "A loan. Enough to pay the hospital bills and the remaining debts. I'll repay you every cent."
Damien smiled — slow, sharp, humorless. "A loan? Interesting."He stood, walked around the desk, and stopped a breath away from her. His cologne was expensive, intoxicating, yet suffocating.
"There's a better deal," he said quietly.Her heartbeat quickened. "What kind of deal?"
He met her gaze — eyes like polished steel. "A marriage contract. One year. You'll be Mrs. Cross in name only. In return, I'll pay your father's medical bills, clear the debts, and rebuild what's left of Sinclair Industries."
Ava's breath hitched. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, I'm dead serious." He tilted his head slightly. "You'll live in my house, attend my events, act the part. No love. No emotions. Just obedience. At the end of the year, you walk away—richer, free, and forgotten."
"Why?" she whispered. "Why me?"
He smiled — the kind of smile that made her blood run cold."Because your father took everything from me. And now… his daughter will pay the price."
Ava staggered back, shaking her head. "You're sick."
"Maybe." He stepped closer. "But I'm also your only option."
Rain drummed against the windows again, echoing the racing of her heart.
She wanted to slap him, scream, run — but the image of her father lying helpless in that hospital bed chained her in place.
Damien extended a sleek folder toward her — a contract. Her name was already typed at the top.
"Think carefully," he said softly. "Your signature can save him. Or you can walk away and watch everything you love die."
Her trembling fingers brushed the pen.
One signature. One vow.And a price she could never imagine paying.
End of Chapter One.