Elena's POV
The morning stretched on. I showered, dressed in the same clothes I wore yesterday because I couldn't think straight enough to choose new ones. I made more coffee I won't drink. I read the contract eight time, and a ninth, looking for some loophole, some escape clause that will let me save Mom without destroying myself.
There wasn't one.
By ten AM, I've made my decision.
By ten-thirty, I was standing outside Ashford Industries, staring up at the glass tower that might as well be a prison. The morning rush has ended, and the lobby is relatively quiet as I pushed through the revolving doors.
The security guard recognized me from my restoration work. "Ms. Moretti. Here to see Mr. Ashford?"
"Yes." The word came out steady. Resolved.
He nodded, picking up his phone. A moment later: "You're cleared to go up."
The elevator ride to the forty-seventh floor felt both endless and far too short. My reflection in the polished doors showed a woman I barely recognize, pale, hollow-eyed, clutching a leather portfolio like a shield.
The receptionist was different from yesterday.
Younger, with a practiced smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Mr. Ashford is expecting you. Go right in."
I walked through the frosted glass doors into Vincent's office. He's standing at the window again, hands in his pockets, looking out over Manhattan like he owned it. Maybe he does.
"Ms. Moretti." He didn't turn around. "I wasn't expecting you until this afternoon."
"I've made my decision." I set the portfolio on his desk with more force than necessary. "No."
Now he turned, one eyebrow raised. "No?"
"No. I can't do this. I won't be a pawn in someone's game just because I look helpless."
Something flickered across his face, surprise, maybe, or annoyance. He walked to his desk, settling into his chair with that same fluid grace. "But you are helpless currently."
The words hit like a slap. I scoff, the sound harsh in the quiet office. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm honest." He leaned back, studying me with those cold gray eyes. "You came here yesterday desperate. Nothing has changed except your pride finally woke up. But pride doesn't pay for experimental cancer treatments, Ms. Moretti."
"My name is Elena." I don't know why that matters suddenly, but it did. "If you're going to insult me, at least use my first name."
"Elena." He said it slowly, like he's testing the weight of it. "You're angry. That's understandable. What I'm asking is unconscionable by most standards. But anger doesn't change your situation."
"No, but it changes whether I'm willing to compromise my entire life for a man who sees me as, what did you call it?—'nobody.'"
"I was being pragmatic, not cruel."
"There's a difference?" Moving toward the door, needing to get out of this office, away from him and his calculated propositions.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Ashford. I'll find another way."
I was at the door, hand on the handle, when my phone rang. My blood turned to ice when I saw the hospital's number.
"Elena Moretti speaking," I answered, my voice barely audible.
"Ms. Moretti, this is Dr. Reeves." His voice was grave, professional, the tone doctors use when delivering bad news. "I'm calling about your mother. Her condition has deteriorated significantly overnight. We've moved her to ICU."
The floor tilted beneath me. "What... what does that mean?"
"It means we need to make decisions quickly.
The treatment window, if you were considering the Swiss trial, we're looking at hours now, not days. Maybe seventy-two hours at most before she's no longer a candidate."
Hours. Not days.
I shut my eyes, gripping the phone so hard I'm surprised it didn't shatter. The contract pages crinkled in my other hand, and I realized I'm still holding them, still carrying around my impossible choice.
"Ms. Moretti? Are you there?"
"Yes. I'm... I'm here. I'll call you back."
I ended the call before he could respond. For a long moment, I just stood there, forehead pressed against the door, trying to remember how to breathe.
Behind me, Vincent's voice was quiet. "Bad news?"
I turned slowly. He was still sitting at his desk, hands folded, watching me with an expression that might be sympathy if I didn't know better.
"Fine." The word came out broken. "Fine. I'll do it."
"Elena…"
"Don't." I walked back to his desk, pulling out the chair and sitting down with shaking legs.
"Don't say anything. Just... give me the pen."
He opened a drawer, retrieving an expensive fountain pen.
He slide the thick document across the desk. I flipped to the last page, where lines wait for my signature. My hand shaking so badly I have to steady my wrist with my other hand.
"Wait." Vincent's voice stopped me. "Before you sign, I need you to understand something."
I looked up at him, vision blurring slightly. "What?"
"This isn't reversible. Once you sign, you're mine for the next eighteen months. There's no backing out, no changing your mind. If you break the terms, you forfeit everything, the money, the treatment, all of it. And I will take legal action."
"I understand."
"Do you?" He leaned forward, and for the first time since I met him, I saw something almost human in his eyes. "Because this will destroy you, Elena. Not immediately, maybe not obviously, but slowly. You'll smile for cameras while dying inside. You'll lie to everyone you love. You'll give birth to a child you'll never raise. And when it's over, you'll be rich and empty and wondering if any amount of money was worth what you paid."
My throat was so tight I could barely speak. "Are you trying to talk me out of this?"
"No. I'm making sure you know what you're agreeing to." He paused. "I'm many things, Elena, but I'm not a monster. If you're going to do this, do it with your eyes open."
I looked down at the contract, at the lines waiting for my signature. In the background, I could hear my mother's labored breathing from yesterday's phone call, the way she struggled to tell me she loved me.
I picked up the fountain pen. It was heavy in my hand, weighted with more than just metal and ink.
"Where do I sign?"
Vincent pointed to the first line.
"Here. And initial each page where indicated."
The final signature took the longest. My hand hovered over the line for what felt like eternity.
Then I thought of Mom, and I signed my full name with as much dignity as I can muster.
Elena Sofia Moretti.
Vincent took the contract, reviewing each signature with meticulous attention. Then he pulled out his phone, typing rapidly.
"What are you doing?"
"Initiating the transfers." He didn't look up.
"Your mother's treatment will be paid in full within the hour. The clinic has already been contacted. I'm arranging for a private medical transport to take her to Switzerland tonight."
Tonight. It's all happening so fast.
"And the two million?" I hated how mercenary the question sounded, but he said there would be two million.
"Will be in an account under your name by end of business today." He set his phone down, looking at me with those unreadable gray eyes. "Congratulations, Elena. You're about to become very wealthy."
I don't feel wealthy. I felt hollow.
"What happens now?"
"Now, my driver takes you home to pack. You'll move into the penthouse by tomorrow morning. We'll need to coordinate schedules, there's a stylist who'll handle your wardrobe, a media consultant to prep you for public appearances. We announce the engagement in one week, so you'll need to be ready."
One week. Seven days to prepare for a lie that will consume the next year and a half of my life.
"Your mother leaves tonight," Vincent continued, all business now. "I've arranged for a nurse to accompany her on the flight. Once she's settled in Switzerland, you can visit, but it will need to be brief. We can't have the media wondering why my fiancée is spending so much time out of the country."
Right. Because this is all about appearances.
"Can I at least say goodbye?" My voice cracked on the last word.
Something flickered across his face, sympathy? Regret? Then it was gone.
"Of course. I'll have the car take you to the hospital first. But Elena?" He waited until I met his eyes.
"Don't tell her about our arrangement. As far as she knows, we're in love."