The elevator ride down from the Black Glass Tower felt longer than the entire meeting itself.
I couldn't breathe.
Not properly.
Not fully.
Every inhale carried a trace of him, his voice, his nearness,the ghost of his hand on my jaw. And every exhale felt like I was trying to push him out of my lungs, out of my memory, out of my body.
Impossible.
I stumbled out into the cold marble lobby, blinking rapidly. People moved around me, executives, interns, visitors, but they were all background noise to the storm swirling inside my chest.
He said he wasn't ready.
He said we would fight.
He said he owed me nothing.
And yet he touched me like he remembered everything.
I walked out of the building on shaky legs, trying not to look back, trying not to imagine him in that glass tower watching me leave.
But I felt it.
I felt his eyes on my back.
All the way to the gate.
The next morning, I sat at my desk, barely awake, barely stable, waiting for my alarm to stop ringing when my phone vibrated again.
Not the alarm.
A call.
Unknown number.
My stomach clenched.
I answered cautiously. "Hello?"
"Be in my office by ten," Rhys's voice commanded.
Not a greeting.
Not a question.
A directive.
"Good morning to you too," I said dryly.
"Reece," he warned.
"You know there are nicer ways to"
"It's important."
My irritation evaporated.
His tone wasn't cold.
It was tight.
Controlled.
As if something was slipping out of his grip and he was barely holding it together.
"What happened?" I asked softly.
A beat of silence.
Then,
"I'll explain when you get here."
The call ended.
It just ended.
I stared at my screen, pulse quickening.
Something was wrong.
Or big.
Or both.
I dressed carefully, but my hands were shaking, damn him, shaking so much I could barely clasp my necklace.
At 9:52 a.m., I stepped into the Black Glass Tower again.
By 9:58, his assistant was escorting me to the penthouse office.
At 10:00 exactly, she opened the door.
"Miss Kay is here, sir."
I stepped inside.
He was already standing behind his desk.
Not calm.
Not collected.
Tension radiated from him like heat from a furnace.
"Close the door," he told the assistant without looking away from me.
The soft click behind me made the silence sharper.
His eyes met mine.
"Sit."
I did.
Mostly because my knees were unreliable.
He didn't sit.
He stayed standing, as if sitting would make him lose some invisible battle.
I finally asked, "Rhys… what's going on?"
He exhaled.
Long.
Hard.
Like he'd been holding the air for hours.
"There's something you need to know before we sign tomorrow."
My heart thudded harder.
"Okay…"
He paced once, just once, but enough to show he was rattled, then stopped directly in front of me.
His jaw clenched.
His hands curled into fists at his sides.
"The trust marriage isn't the only reason I agreed to this," he said.
The room tilted slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I need a temporary wife," he said. "For a merger."
I blinked.
The words hit late, like delayed gunshots.
"A… what?"
"A merger, Reece."
I stared.
He stared back.
And then the meaning crashed over me.
"You're getting married for business," I whispered.
"I'm getting married for survival," he corrected.
My breath caught.
He continued, voice low and sharp.
"SterlingTech Capital is finalizing a multi-continent merger with three conglomerate partners. The deal is worth over fifteen billion dollars. It's the largest move we've ever made."
I swallowed.
"That sounds… huge."
"It is."
"Then what does that have to do with"
"They won't finalize the deal unless my personal stability checks out."
I frowned. "Your what?"
"Stability," he repeated. "They need reassurance that I'm grounded. Settled. Not a volatility risk."
My brows rose. "So… they need you married."
He nodded once.
"They want a spouse. A partner. A woman at my side for at least a year."
A year.
A full year.
Of pretending.
Or… whatever this was.
My stomach churned.
"And you agreed to that?" I asked.
"I didn't have a choice."
It was strange, how those words sliced through me harder than anything else he'd said.
The great Rhys Sterling.
No choice.
"So you picked me because I'm convenient?" I asked quietly.
His eyes snapped to mine.
"No."
No hesitation.
No lies.
"It wasn't convenience."
My breath caught.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that I could smell his clean, sharp cologne.
Close enough that the heat of his body reached mine.
"I could've chosen anyone," he said. "Actresses. Heiresses. Socialites. Politicians' daughters." His voice deepened. "But those women would've brought chaos. Exposure. Leverage over me."
His gaze swept over my face slowly.
"You,"he said softly, "wouldn't use me."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
" You trust me?" I whispered.
His jaw ticked.
"I trust you more than anyone else in my life."
The admission stunned me.
Paralyzed me.
Because five years ago, I would've killed to hear him say that.
Now?
Now it felt like a trap wrapped in tenderness.
"But why didn't you tell me yesterday?" I asked.
He looked away.
Not down.
Not ashamed.
Away.
As if the skyline was easier to face than me.
"I didn't want this to influence your decision."
I let out a disbelieving breath. "Rhys… it absolutely influences everything."
"I know."
"Then why wait?"
His voice softened.
Almost a whisper.
"Because I knew that once I said it out loud… nothing between us could go back to being simple."
Simple?
We'd never been simple.
Not even as kids.
"Reece," he said quietly, turning fully toward me again. "I'm not asking for love. Or forgiveness. Or the past."
He stepped even closer.
My pulse jumped.
"I'm asking you for twelve months. Public appearances. Events. Dinners. Board meetings. Stability optics. A united front."
I listened.
But every word felt heavier than it should.
"And in return," he finished, "your family gets the full trust release. Debt cleared. Business restored. Future secured."
My eyes burned unexpectedly.
"You're offering rescue," I whispered.
"I'm offering a contract," he corrected. "With benefits for both sides."
I shook my head slightly. "It still feels like you're saving us."
He stepped so close my knees brushed the edge of his desk.
"I'm not saving you," he said quietly. "I'm choosing you."
Goosebumps raced across my arms.
I hated how much those words affected me.
"So let me get this straight," I managed. "You need a wife for a merger. I need a spouse for the trust clause. And we're both using each other."
"Yes."
"For one year."
"Yes."
"With no… emotions?"
He paused.
Longer than he should have.
"Correct."
It wasn't convincing.
We felt it.
"You really believe we can do this?" I whispered.
He looked at me then, really looked at me, with that charged, devastating intensity.
"I believe," he said slowly, "that you and I have unfinished work. And that fate has a sick sense of humor."
My lips parted.
He lifted a hand, hesitated, and then touched a strand of hair near my cheek.
Not my cheek.
Not my jaw.
Hair.
Casual.
Accidental.
Intimate.
My breath caught audibly.
His voice dropped to a murmur.
"This merger could fall apart without a wife at my side. My board knows it. The partners know it. And now… so do you."
I swallowed hard.
"So you want to marry me," I whispered.
"No," he said softly.
My chest caved.
He continued,
"I need to marry you."
The air cracked.
Something hot and fragile and terrifying flickered between us.
I stepped back abruptly, breaking the moment before it swallowed me.
I needed air.
Sanity.
Distance.
"So tomorrow we sign," I said, struggling for steadiness.
"Yes."
"And after that… we announce it?"
His eyes burned into mine.
"After that," he said, "the world becomes our stage."
I froze.
"And you," he added quietly, "become the one woman they'll study. Question. Photograph. Analyze."
His tone softened.
"I'll protect you."
I laughed, a broken, trembling sound.
"From what?"
His expression hardened.
"From everyone who will want something from you once you become mine."
The word mine vibrated through me like a spark.
I hated how much I felt it.
I hated how much he meant it.
I hated how nothing about this was business anymore.
"Go home, Reece," he said gently. "Rest while you can."
"Why?"
His answer was a whisper meant only for me.
"Because after tomorrow… your life stops belonging solely to you."
My stomach dropped.
My pulse raced.
And every step toward the elevator felt like walking toward a destiny I didn't choose, but couldn't escape.
If someone had asked me yesterday what the hardest part of agreeing to this arrangement would be, I would've said facing Rhys in that cold, impossible office.
I was wrong.
The hardest part came the next morning, at 4:17 a.m., when I woke from another dream that wasn't a dream at all.
A memory.
A wound dressed as a memory.
The night everything ended.
The night the version of Rhys I loved died.
The night the version of me he knew disappeared.
The night that built five years of regret so heavy I could barely carry it.
I lay still in the half-dark, the edges of the dream bleeding into reality, tightening around my ribs like invisible hands.
I didn't ask for the memory.
But it came anyway.
It always did.
And this time, it didn't knock.
It kicked the door open and dragged me under.
**FIVE YEARS AGO
The Night the Future Collapsed**
It was raining, a heavy, angry rain that made the streetlights flicker and the gutters overflow. The kind of rain that felt personal, like the sky was grieving something it couldn't name.
I stood outside his house, water soaking into my sneakers, my hair plastered to my cheeks, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped the envelope.
Rhys Sterling was leaving.
Not for a short trip.
Not for a semester.
He was leaving for good.
And he didn't tell me.
I found out from someone else. By accident. In the most humiliating way.
His mother, with a polite smile and a voice too light for what she was saying:
"Oh, sweetheart… he didn't tell you?"
Tell me what, Mrs. Sterling?
"That he's moving to London. Today."
The world had stopped right there.
Like a movie with the film ripped in the middle.
I barely remembered walking to his house. I barely remembered breathing. I barely remembered knocking, three times, hard enough to rattle the wood.
When the door opened, Rhys stood there with a suitcase behind him, hair still damp from his shower, a dark hoodie over a white T-shirt, and eyes that widened in something between shock and… guilt.
"Reece," he breathed.
My voice broke before I spoke.
"You're leaving?"
He closed his eyes for half a second, too long. Too telling.
"Come inside."
"No."
My throat burned. "Just tell me. Is it true?"
His jaw clenched.
"Yes."
My heart didn't break.
It shattered.
"So you were just going to disappear?"
He didn't answer.
Not immediately.
And that hurt worse than anything he could've said.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered.
He exhaled shakily, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Because you would've followed me."
My breath hitched.
"And you can't," he said.
"I can't?" I repeated. "Or you don't want me to?"
Lightning cracked above us.
He flinched.
"Reece, stop."
"Tell me the truth."
His silence hit like a punch.
A refusal.
A wall.
A goodbye.
Tears blurred my vision, mixing with the relentless rain.
"You're leaving me."
He swallowed hard.
"I'm leaving everything."
"That's not true."
"It is."
"Then look at me and say it," I demanded. "Say that you want to go. Say that you don't want us anymore."
He looked away.
I stepped closer.
"Look at me, Rhys."
I touched his arm.
He flinched.
It felt like betrayal.
It felt like my heart was cracking open.
He finally turned to me, slow, agonizing, and his voice came out so low it barely existed.
"I can't give you what you deserve."
"I didn't ask for perfection."
"You should have," he said. "You deserve someone who can stay."
"I want you!"
I reached for him again.
This time he stepped back.
The space between us grew in one sharp movement.
Cold.
Final.
Breaking.
"Reece," he whispered, "I don't have a future to offer you."
"Then give me now."
He shook his head.
"Now is all I have left to lose."
I felt the air leave my body.
A slow death.
A quiet one.
He lifted the suitcase.
The sound of the wheels rolling out of the doorway burned itself into my bones.
For one impossible second…
…I thought he would stay.
But he didn't.
He stepped past me.
Down the stairs.
Into the rain.
And he didn't look back.
Not once.
Not even when I whispered his name through tears.
"Rhys…"
Not even when my knees gave out on the wet pavement.
Not even when my sobs drowned in the storm.
That was the night everything ended.
The night he chose silence.
The night he left me with questions instead of closure.
The night the world changed.
BACK TO THE PRESENT
I woke up gasping.
Tears on my cheeks.
Hair damp with sweat.
Stomach twisted so tightly it hurt to breathe.
Five years.
Five long, heavy, unfixable years.
And one memory still had the power to ruin me.
I sat up slowly, pressing my palms over my eyes, willing the images to fade.
They didn't.
Because every fragment of that night, every word, every silence, every raindrop, had shaped the bruise between us that still hadn't healed.
And now… I was marrying him.
For reasons that made sense.
For reasons that didn't.
For survival.
Fo family.
For a merger.
For a trust clause.
But definitely not for closure.
Because closure didn't exist with Rhys.
There was only distance.
And danger.
And unfinished pain.
I stood, legs unsteady, and walked to my window.
Outside, the city was waking up, sunlight stretching across rooftops, the early traffic humming faintly, life moving forward as if mine wasn't collapsing and reforming at the same time.
Tomorrow, I would sign a contract with the man who had broken me.
Tomorrow, I would stand beside him again, not as a girl in the rain, begging him to stay, but as a woman stepping into a partnership built on necessity, power, and choices we couldn't outrun.
Tomorrow, my past will become my future.
I swallowed hard and pressed my forehead to the glass.
"I survived you once," I whispered to the morning light.
"And I'll survive you again."
But deep down, too deep for honesty, another truth pulsed beneath the fear.
Some part of me wondered whether this time…
…I wasn't supposed to survive him.
But rebuild something with him.
Or burn in the process.