The Unexpected Proposal
Lydia Hart had a talent for making the wrong choice at the worst possible time. Today, she had outdone herself.
The invitation to the Vale family gala had arrived two days ago, sealed with thick cream-colored paper and a golden insignia she recognized immediately: the Vale crest. Her father's wife had forwarded it with a note: "Your presence is expected."
Lydia was not the kind of person who fit in among the Vale elite. The truth was worse: she was the illegitimate daughter of the family patriarch. She had spent her entire life on the outskirts, tolerated but never embraced, whispered about, but never celebrated.
And now she had no choice but to attend.
She arrived fashionably late—or at least, she tried—slipping past the velvet ropes into the grand hall where chandeliers sparkled like frozen stars. The room was alive with laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft murmur of high society gossip. She hated every second of it.
Then she saw him.
Alexander Vale. CEO of Vale Enterprises. Her father's legitimate heir. The man whose reputation alone could crush an ordinary life into dust. Cold, untouchable, sharp as the diamond cufflinks he wore, and clearly immune to any charm. He didn't smile. He didn't glance at anyone twice. He simply stood, observing, like a predator studying prey.
And he saw her.
Lydia froze. She had hoped invisibility would be her ally, but luck wasn't on her side.
"Lydia Hart," he said, voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the gala chatter like a scalpel. "You are here."
"Yes… sir," she stammered, trying to shrink behind her champagne glass. Her fingers betrayed her, shaking so violently the glass rattled.
Alexander's piercing gaze didn't waver. "Close enough. My father informs me… that you require guidance. Or supervision. Or…" He paused, measuring her carefully. "…management."
Lydia's stomach dropped. Management? Supervision? She'd heard the Vale family was ruthless, but she hadn't expected this.
Before she could react, a butler appeared with a silver tray and a thick envelope. Alexander handed it to her without a word. Her trembling hands accepted it.
Inside, she found a contract. One page, crisp, and brimming with legal weight.
"You are to enter a contract marriage with me," Alexander said, flat, emotionless, like he was reading the weather report. "Terms: one year. Full compliance. Public appearances required. Breach will result in financial penalties for your father."
Lydia's jaw dropped. She blinked. "Excuse me… what?!"
Alexander didn't flinch. "Do not question it. Sign it, or you vanish from the family inheritance entirely. Your father's fortune will be distributed exclusively to legitimate heirs."
Her heart pounded. The gala blurred. The chandelier lights became a spinning vortex. The elite guests in glittering gowns and tailored suits became a meaningless backdrop.
She had twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours to sign. Twenty-four hours to decide between humiliating compliance or losing everything.
"I… I can't—this is insane! A contract marriage? With you? Are you—crazy?" she managed, voice trembling.
"Decision time is twenty-four hours," he repeated, cold and unwavering. "I expect compliance. The envelope contains all legal documents. Your signature is required."
And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving Lydia standing amidst champagne glasses, whispered speculation, and the threat of losing everything.
Her mind screamed. How is this my life? How does a gala turn into… a forced marriage?!
She sank into a nearby velvet chair, trembling, trying to piece together a coherent plan. There was none. The contract was clear. Refuse, and her family's wealth—and her only chance at recognition—would vanish. Comply, and she would be legally bound to a man she barely knew, a man whose cold, unyielding demeanor suggested no mercy, no compromise, and certainly no love.
She took a deep breath and examined the envelope again. The legal language was precise, leaving no loopholes. Every word screamed authority, every clause a subtle threat.
And yet… somewhere deep in her chest, a tiny spark of defiance ignited. She refused to be a puppet. She would survive this ordeal… and maybe, just maybe, she would find a way to turn it in her favor.
The gala continued around her, oblivious to her inner turmoil. Somewhere, Alexander Vale remained a looming, unmovable force—a man who could crush her with a single word. And yet, he had made her a target. The first step had been taken.
Cliffhanger: Lydia clutched the contract, hands shaking. One signature could destroy her pride, but refusal could destroy her future. She had to decide—and she had no idea what choice would save her.