The rain wouldn't stop.
It was the kind that soaked through cheap umbrellas and dreams alike. Ava stood outside the Frost Corporation tower, clutching her worn handbag like it could hold her courage together. Her reflection wavered in the glass doors — red-rimmed eyes, drenched hair, and a résumé that no one wanted to read.
Another rejection. Another "We'll call you."
But they never did.
Her mother's hospital bill flashed in her mind — $7,200 due in three days. If she didn't pay, they'd stop her treatment. Ava's chest tightened as she took a shaky breath. She had no job, no savings, no one to turn to.
Until the envelope came.
It arrived that morning, tucked neatly under her door. No sender, no stamp, just her name in elegant handwriting: **Ava Carter**. Inside was a single line written in black ink:
> *"Come to Frost Tower. 7 PM. An offer you cannot refuse."*
At first, she thought it was a scam. Then she remembered the name — *Frost*. As in **Damian Frost**, CEO of Frost Corporation, the man who built an empire before turning thirty. The same man rumored to have a heart as cold as the empire he ruled.
And now she was standing in front of his building, half believing this was a cruel joke.
Ava swallowed, straightened her soaked blazer, and stepped inside.
---
The elevator ride felt endless. Her reflection in the mirrored walls stared back — nervous, pale, and exhausted. When the doors finally opened to the top floor, the air changed. Cool, crisp, expensive. The kind that smelled like power and quiet danger.
"Miss Carter?" a tall woman with perfect posture asked. "Mr. Frost is expecting you."
Expecting *her*?
Ava followed her through glass corridors overlooking the glittering skyline. The office at the end looked more like a throne room — sleek marble floors, a desk the size of a small car, and behind it, a man who looked like sin dressed in a tailored suit.
Damian Frost didn't look up right away. His pen moved across a document, deliberate and cold.
"Sit," he said, voice deep enough to vibrate in her bones.
Ava sat. Her pulse was a drumbeat in her ears.
Finally, he looked up — eyes sharp, gray like winter storms, the kind that could freeze you if you stared too long.
"I assume you received my letter."
"Yes… but I don't understand. Why me?"
He leaned back, studying her like a problem to be solved. "You need money. I need a wife."
Ava blinked. "I—what?"
His lips twitched — not quite a smile. "I said I need a wife. It's a business arrangement. One year. You'll be compensated generously."
Her mouth went dry. "This is insane. You don't even know me."
"I know enough." He turned the monitor toward her. Her entire background was there — employment history, medical bills, even her mother's hospital records.
Ava's heart dropped. "You… you investigated me?"
"I don't make deals with strangers," he said coolly. "You're honest, discreet, and desperate. Qualities I can use."
She shot to her feet. "You can't just—this is my *life*! Not one of your mergers."
"Sit down, Miss Carter." His tone turned icy. "You can walk out that door and let your mother's hospital cut her off tonight. Or you can sign this contract and walk away with enough money to save her life."
Her breath caught.
Damian slid a folder across the desk. Inside — a marriage contract. One year. No emotional attachment. No interference in each other's private lives. Compensation: five hundred thousand dollars.
Five hundred thousand.
Her fingers trembled as she touched the paper. This couldn't be real.
"Why do you need a fake wife?" she whispered.
His gaze flickered, just for a second — something raw, pained, gone too quickly. "Because my father's will demands it. He's dying, and he won't release the family shares unless I'm married."
So that was it. The billionaire's heartless deal.
Ava looked at him — the man the city called ruthless, untouchable. She should hate him. But something in his eyes, the loneliness buried beneath the frost, made her chest ache.
Still, this was madness.
"I need time," she said.
"You have until midnight," Damian replied, glancing at the clock. "After that, the offer expires."
Ava stood, her mind spinning. "You're asking me to sell myself."
"No," he said quietly. "I'm offering you a choice."
She turned to leave, but the rain outside had turned into a storm. Lightning flashed against the glass, and for a moment, she saw his reflection — Damian Frost, perfectly still, but his eyes followed her with something unreadable.
"Midnight, Miss Carter," he said. "Decide whether to save your pride… or your mother."
The elevator doors closed between them.
And for the first time, Ava realized — her life would never be the same again.