I forgot how to breathe.
The hallway lights buzzed overhead like dying insects. Somewhere behind me a monitor gave a warning chirp, then settled. Everything sounded muffled, like I'd sunk ten feet underwater and he was the only thing still in focus.
Cassian Lockwood didn't move closer. He just waited, hands in the pockets of that soaked black coat, rainwater dripping from his hair onto the collar of a suit that cost more than most people make in a year. His eyes never left mine.
Golden.
Unblinking.
Terrifyingly calm.
"Marry me," he repeated, softer this time, but the words still hit like a fist to the sternum.
I found my voice somewhere near the floor. "You're insane."
A flicker in his expression (something raw and quickly buried). "Probably."
I took one step back. My sneakers squeaked on the wet linoleum he'd tracked in. "You can't just walk into my life after five weeks of silence and propose like this is some kind of fairy tale."
"I'm not offering a fairy tale, Aurora." My name in his mouth sounded different now. Sharper. Like he'd practiced saying it in the dark. "I'm offering a contract terms."
Contract.
The word landed cold and heavy between us.
I laughed. It came out cracked. "Right. Because that's what every girl dreams of. A business proposal from the man who vanished before sunrise."
His jaw flexed. "I didn't vanish. I was giving you the choice to walk away clean. You didn't use the card."
I flinched. The black card was still in the top drawer of my dresser, hidden under mismatched socks. I'd taken it out every single night, thumb rubbing the raised silver wolf like it could summon him. Like I was pathetic enough to want him to come back.
I lifted my chin. "So you stalked me instead?"
"I protected what's mine."
The possessive scrape in his voice made my knees threaten to fold. I locked them. "I'm not yours. One night doesn't buy you rights, Mr. Lockwood."
Something dark flashed across his face. He took one step (only one), but it closed the distance until I could feel the heat radiating off him. Until I had to tip my head back to hold his stare.
"You're carrying my child," he said, low enough that the words felt branded into my skin. "That buys me everything."
My hand moved before I could stop it, curving protectively over my stomach. His gaze tracked the motion like a wolf spotting prey.
"How long have you known?" I whispered.
"Since the day you bought the test." He didn't even blink. "I've had security on you since the morning after the club. Discreet. You never saw nothing."
A wave of ice rolled down my spine. All those times I'd felt watched on the bus, walking home from the diner, standing outside Grandma's room… it hadn't been paranoia.
"You spied on me."
"I kept you safe." His voice roughened. "This city isn't kind to unmated, pregnant females who smell like they belong to an Alpha. Especially not one carrying my pup."
The word pup punched the air out of my lungs. I'd spent weeks pretending this was normal (human). Hearing it named for what it was made my pulse stutter.
I wrapped my arms around myself. "You don't want your protection. I want you to leave."
He didn't. He reached into his coat instead, slow, deliberate, and pulled out a folded sheaf of papers. Thick cream stock, embossed with a law firm I recognized from the news. He held it between two fingers like it weighed nothing.
"Ten million dollars," he said. "Every cent of your grandmother's debt erased tonight. The best doctors in the country flown in tomorrow. A trust for the child that can never be touched, no matter what happens between us."
I stared at the papers. My mouth went dry.
He kept going, relentless. "Two years. You live in my penthouse. You attend events at my side. You let the world believe you're my wife. After the coronation, when my position is secured, you walk away with everything I just promised and more. No one ever has to know it wasn't real."
Coronation. The word clanged around my skull. I'd seen the headlines (billionaire playboy set to inherit some shadowy throne), but I'd thought it was tabloid garbage.
I swallowed. "And if I say no?"
His eyes went colder than the rain outside. "Then I stay. I follow. I guard what's mine until you change your mind or the council takes my head. Either way, little fox, you're not raising my child alone in a city that will eat you both alive."
A nurse rounded the corner, saw us, and immediately reversed direction. Smart woman.
I looked at the papers again. Then at the door to Grandma's room, where machines were breathing for the only mother I'd ever known.
My voice cracked. "You're asking me to sell myself."
"I'm asking you to save the people you love." He stepped closer, close enough that his coat brushed my arm. Close enough that I could see the faint white scar on his throat I didn't remember from that night. "I'm asking you to let me fix what I broke."
Something fractured inside my chest. I hated that it sounded almost gentle.
I took the contract with shaking fingers. The top line read: Marriage of Convenience Agreement – Cassian Saint Lockwood & Aurora Marie Vale.
My full name. He already knew everything.
He produced a pen (matte black, heavy, the kind that probably cost more than my rent). Held it out.
"Sign, and the money transfers before you reach the parking garage. Refuse, and I'll still pay the bills. But I won't leave."
I stared at the pen like it was a loaded gun.
Behind us, Grandma's heart monitor beeped steady and slow.
I thought of her whispering my nickname through cracked lips.
I thought of the tiny life inside me that deserved better than a mother working double shifts until she collapsed.
I thought of golden eyes watching me break apart on a piano and still walking away at dawn.
I took the pen.
My hand didn't shake when I signed. It felt like someone else's entirely.
He watched every stroke of ink like it was sacred. When I handed the papers back, his fingers brushed mine (deliberately). Heat shot up my arm so hard I almost dropped the pen.
He tucked the contract away, then reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small black velvet box.
Inside was a ring. Platinum band, black diamonds shaped like a crescent moon. Simple. Terrifyingly beautiful.
He didn't kneel. He didn't ask.
He simply took my left hand and slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly. Of course it did.
"Tomorrow," he said, voice rough again, "a doctor will come to the apartment. The day after, we move you into the penthouse. Tonight, your grandmother gets moved to the best room in this hospital and taken off the ventilator."
I stared at the ring like it might bite me. "I have rules."
He arched a brow. "I'm listening."
"No sex." The words burst out before I could stop them. "Separate bedrooms. This stays business."
For the first time, something almost like pain crossed his face. Then it was gone.
"Whatever you need to sleep at night, Aurora."
He turned to leave. At the last second he paused, looked back.
"I won't touch you again," he said quietly, "until you beg me the way you did that night."
Then we'll both pretend the rules ever mattered."
He walked away, coat flaring like wings, shoes silent on the wet floor.
I stood there long after he was gone, staring at the ring glinting under fluorescent lights, feeling the weight of ten million dollars and an entire future I never asked for settle onto my shoulders.
The devil didn't wear Prada.
He wore a custom suit, carried a contract instead of a pitchfork, and had just bought my soul for the price of the only family I had left.
And the worst part?
Some terrified, traitorous part of me was relieved