The elevator ride to the top floor of Blackwood Industries felt endless.
Each second ticked like a countdown — to what, I wasn't sure. Maybe the end of my pride. Maybe the beginning of my surrender.
The glass doors parted with a soft hiss. A gust of chilled air brushed against my face, carrying the faint scent of expensive coffee and power. The kind of power that didn't need to speak — it simply existed, silent and absolute.
And at the center of it sat Adrian Blackwood.
He didn't look up when I entered. His head was bent over a file, black pen moving with surgical precision. I stood in the middle of his office — all glass, steel, and clean lines — trying not to tremble.
Every instinct screamed at me to turn around.
To leave.
To stop pretending I could play his game.
But then I remembered my brother's pale face, the sound of machines beeping in the hospital room, and the number on the bill that no human could pay in this lifetime.
So I stayed.
When he finally looked up, it was like the room forgot how to breathe.
"Miss Whitmore." His voice was low, smooth, and completely detached. "You're late."
I swallowed hard. "I— The traffic—"
He raised a hand, silencing me. "Excuses waste time. Sit."
I obeyed before my knees betrayed me.
He set the pen down, interlacing his fingers on the desk. "You've had two days to think about my offer."
"Offer," I repeated quietly. "Is that what we're calling it?"
His lips curved — not a smile, not really. "You make it sound like I've asked for something indecent."
"You have."
The air between us thickened. He leaned back in his chair, eyes sharp. "I asked for your cooperation, not your affection. This arrangement benefits us both."
I clenched my fists. "You're asking me to marry you."
"For three months," he corrected. "A legal formality, nothing more."
"Nothing more?" I scoffed. "You destroyed my father's company. You left us with nothing. And now you expect me to become your wife — even if it's just for show?"
He didn't flinch. "You need the money. I need a bride. Let's not pretend we're anything but desperate people making practical decisions."
My throat tightened. "Why me?"
"Because you're suitable," he said. "You don't crave the spotlight, you're intelligent, and unlike the rest, you won't confuse business with pleasure."
His words stung more than I expected.
"Pleasure?" I echoed. "Don't worry, Mr. Blackwood. You're the last man on earth I'd ever fall for."
"Good," he murmured. "That makes two of us."
I looked away, blinking fast. Through the glass wall, the city stretched endlessly below — cold and glittering, just like him.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a thin folder. "Three months. You attend my events, play the part of my wife, and maintain discretion. In exchange, I clear your debts — and pay for your brother's surgery."
My breath caught. "How do you know about my brother?"
His tone was maddeningly calm. "I know everything about the people I do business with."
I bit the inside of my cheek, hard enough to taste iron.
Flashback:
The hospital smelled like disinfectant and despair. My brother, Lucas, had smiled weakly through the pain. "Don't cry, Elara," he'd said. "You always fix things."
But I couldn't fix this. The bills kept coming, the insurance had lapsed, and every charity had turned me away.
I remembered the doctor's words: "Without surgery, he doesn't have much time."
And then Adrian Blackwood's assistant had called.
We have an offer for you, Miss Whitmore.
"Why me?" I asked again, softer this time.
Adrian's gaze held mine. "Because you owe me."
My pulse jumped. "Owe you? You destroyed everything we had."
"No," he said simply. "Your father destroyed himself. I just bought what was left."
The casual cruelty in his tone made my chest tighten.
"You're unbelievable," I whispered.
He shrugged lightly. "Perhaps. But I'm offering you a chance to change your situation. Don't mistake pride for power, Miss Whitmore. Pride doesn't pay hospital bills."
I stared at him — this man who wore his arrogance like armor. "And what do you get out of this? Why do you need a wife?"
His jaw tightened for the first time. "That's not your concern."
"So there is something you're hiding."
He leaned forward. "We all hide something, Miss Whitmore."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush me.
"Three months," I repeated faintly. "And after that?"
"You walk away with everything you need." He tapped the pen on the contract. "All I ask is loyalty while it lasts."
"Loyalty," I echoed bitterly. "To the man who ruined my family."
"To the man saving your brother," he corrected smoothly.
My vision blurred for a second. He knew exactly where to press — the one wound I couldn't defend.
I reached for the pen. My fingers trembled as they brushed the cold metal.
"Wait."
I looked up.
Adrian's gaze softened just a fraction. "Once you sign this, there's no going back. You'll be part of my world, and my world doesn't forgive mistakes."
"Neither does mine," I whispered.
And I signed.
The sound of ink scratching against paper felt like sealing my fate.
He rose from his chair, walked around the desk, and held out a small box. Inside was a platinum ring — elegant, cold, flawless.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwood," he said quietly.
The word hit harder than I expected.
Before I could answer, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it — and for the first time, his expression changed. His posture stiffened.
"What's wrong?" I asked cautiously.
He turned the screen toward me.
A breaking news alert glared back in bold letters:
BREAKING: Federal Investigation Launched Into Blackwood Industries — Anonymous Source Leaks Confidential Files.
The blood drained from my face.
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "Did you know about this, Miss Whitmore?"
"What? No!"
He stepped closer, his presence like gravity. "Convenient timing. You sign the contract, and moments later, my company's secrets become public. Tell me, Elara… were you planning revenge all along?"
My chest tightened. "You think I'd risk my brother's life for revenge?"
He didn't blink. "I think you have more fire than you pretend to."
"I don't even know what you're talking about!"
He leaned closer, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Then prove it."
My breath caught. "How?"
Adrian smiled — faintly, darkly. "By surviving in my house. By keeping your secrets… and learning mine."
He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against the paper I'd just signed.
"Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Blackwood."
And as he turned away, I realized something terrifying — I hadn't just sold three months of my life.
I'd sold my heart to the enemy.