Cassandra's POV
I catch Elijah in the hallway after the board meeting.
Mr. Morgan. Can I speak with you?
He stops, turns. Those dark eyes assess me. Of course.
We walk to a quiet corner away from the elevators. My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it. The adrenaline from the meeting is still coursing through my veins.
Why did you do that? I ask.
He tilts his head slightly. Do what?
Defend me. Expose Marcus. You were hired to find dirt on me, weren't you? To prove I'm incompetent? That's what he wanted.
I was hired to evaluate company performance, he corrects, his voice steady and calm. And I did. The dirt I found was on Marcus, not you.
But you could have twisted the data. Made me look bad. Made the numbers say whatever Marcus wanted them to say. That's what he was paying you for.
I don't twist data, Miss Hayes. His dark eyes are steady on mine. I report facts. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Why? The question comes out sharper than I intended. Why stick to facts when you could have made a lot of money telling Marcus what he wanted to hear? Why risk losing a client by being honest?
Elijah is quiet for a moment, studying me. Then: Because you don't deserve to lose your company to a man who's actively destroying it. And because I have a daughter who's going to grow up in this world. I'd like her to see that sometimes, people choose integrity over profit.
A daughter. He has a daughter.
The information hits me unexpectedly. This cold, professional consultant has a child. Someone he cares about. Someone who makes him choose integrity over money.
Thank you, I say softly. You saved me in there. If you'd backed up Marcus's claims, the board would have voted me out today.
I didn't save you. I just told the truth. You saved yourself by being good at your job despite impossible circumstances. He pauses, and something almost like respect flickers in his eyes. Forty-three percent revenue increase while your COO was actively sabotaging you? That's impressive.
My throat tightens. I didn't expect this. Didn't expect him to see past the chaos to the actual work I've been doing.
Though I am curious about one thing, Elijah continues.
What?
The ninety days Marcus mentioned. What was he referring to?
My stomach sinks. Of course he heard that. Of course he'd want to know.
It's... complicated.
I specialize in complicated. His expression doesn't change, but there's genuine curiosity there. And if it affects the company I just evaluated, I should probably know about it.
I study him. This stranger who just handed me a weapon against Marcus. This consultant with the intense eyes and the steady voice who chose truth over profit.
Can I trust him?
Do I have a choice?
My grandfather's will, I say carefully. There's a clause. I have to be married within ninety days of his death or I lose controlling shares of Hayes Tech to Marcus.
Elijah's expression doesn't change, but I see his eyes sharpen. Processing. Calculating. And how many days do you have left?
Eighty-five.
Do you have a fiancé? Someone you're planning to marry?
No.
Any prospects?
I laugh, but it comes out bitter. I work eighty-hour weeks. I haven't been on a date in three years. The last man I trusted sold my company secrets to our biggest competitor. So no, Mr. Morgan, I don't have any prospects. I don't even have time to look for prospects.
He's quiet, studying me with that intense gaze. I can almost see him turning over the problem in his mind.
What will you do? he asks.
I don't know. The honesty feels dangerous, but I'm too tired to lie. Pray for a miracle, I guess. Hope someone decent falls out of the sky in the next eighty-five days.
More silence. Then Elijah pulls out a business card, hands it to me. His fingers brush mine briefly. Warm. Real.
If you need help with anything professional advice, references for the board, character witnesses, anything at all call me.
I take the card, surprised. Why would you help me?
Because despite what Marcus thinks, you're doing an excellent job under terrible conditions. Hayes Tech is lucky to have you. He pauses. And because integrity should be rewarded, not punished. Your grandfather was wrong to put you in this position, but that doesn't mean you should lose everything because of his mistake.
Before I can respond, he's walking away, his footsteps steady and confident on the marble floor.
Mr. Morgan?
He looks back, one hand on the elevator button.
Thank you. Really.
He nods once, something almost like a smile touching his lips. Then the elevator doors close and he's gone.
I stand there, his business card in my hand, wondering if I just made an ally.
Or if this is another game I don't understand yet.
The next few weeks blur together in a haze of desperation and failed attempts.
Marcus is suspended pending investigation. The board is reviewing all his decisions, all his deals. And I'm trying to run a company while secretly panicking about the marriage deadline that's counting down like a bomb.
Sixty-five days left.
Then sixty.
Then fifty-five.
I try speed dating. Complete disaster. Five-minute conversations with men who either want to talk about themselves the entire time or ask inappropriate questions about my money.
Blind dates set up by well-meaning friends. Even worse. Awkward dinners where I can't focus on the conversation because I'm mentally calculating company projections and board strategies.
A dating app that Jordan forces me to download. It's 2026, Cass. Everyone meets online now.
Complete waste of time. Matches who ghost after one message. Men who lead with shirtless gym photos. One guy who turned out to be married.
Maybe you should call that consultant, Jordan suggests one evening as we sit in my office reviewing yet another failed date.
Elijah Morgan? Why?
Because he's smart, professional, and he already proved he's on your side. Maybe he knows someone. Maybe he has a single friend or colleague who's looking for
For what? A desperate CEO who needs a husband in sixty days?
When you put it that way, it sounds bad.
It is bad, Jordan. It's a nightmare.
She's quiet for a moment. Then: Do you have his card still?
I pull out my wallet. His card is there, slightly worn now from being handled. Elijah Morgan, CEO, Morgan & Associates.
Call him, Jordan says. What's the worst that could happen?
He could think I'm insane.
You are insane. But you're also desperate. And desperate times call for desperate measures.
She has a point.
But I don't call him.
Not yet.
Not until I'm completely out of options.
Day thirty arrives faster than I expected.
Sixty days left. Two months to find a husband or lose everything.
I'm at a charity gala at the Fairmont one of those black-tie events I have to attend as CEO of a major tech company. Smile for photos. Make small talk with donors. Pretend everything is fine while my world crumbles around me.
Marcus isn't here. Still suspended. But I can feel people watching me, whispering behind champagne flutes and canapés.
She has to get married, you know. Her grandfather's will.
Ridiculous clause. So old-fashioned.
Poor thing. Imagine being that desperate.
I heard she's tried everything. Speed dating, apps, everything.
Each whisper is a knife. Each pitying look a reminder that my private crisis is now public entertainment.
I smile. Nod. Make conversation about quarterly projections and market trends. Pretend I don't hear them.
But inside, I'm screaming.
I escape to the balcony, needing air. Needing space. Needing a moment where I don't have to pretend.
The San Francisco night is cool. The city lights spread out below like scattered diamonds. I grip the railing and just breathe.
And find I'm not alone.
Elijah Morgan stands at the far end of the balcony, staring at the city lights. He's in a tuxedo that fits him perfectly. Looks dangerously good. Devastatingly handsome in a way that makes my breath catch despite everything.
He hasn't seen me yet. He looks lost in thought, his expression troubled.
Bad night? I ask.
He turns, recognizes me. Something flickers in his eyes surprise, maybe. Or something warmer. You could say that.
Want company or should I go?
Company is fine. He gestures to the space beside him at the railing. Join me.
I do. We stand in silence for a moment, both staring at the city. It's oddly comfortable. No pressure to fill the silence.
I haven't seen you since the board meeting, I say finally. How have you been?
Busy. You?
Desperate.
The word slips out before I can stop it. Too honest. Too raw.
Elijah looks at me, really looks at me. The ninety days?
Sixty days now. And I'm no closer to finding someone than I was a month ago. I laugh, but it sounds hollow. Actually, that's not true. I'm probably further away. I've eliminated every possible option in my social circle and discovered I'm completely incompatible with strangers from the internet.
I'm sorry.
Are you? Or are you relieved you don't have to watch me fail?
Why would I be relieved?
Because consultants don't usually care what happens after they deliver their reports and collect their fees.
I'm not most consultants. He's quiet for a moment, then: For what it's worth, I think the marriage clause is cruel. Your grandfather should have trusted you to run the company without forcing you into an impossible situation.
He probably thought I'd already be married by now. That I'd have a normal life. A husband, kids, balance. I shake my head. He didn't understand that running Hayes Tech doesn't leave time for normal.
Do you want a normal life?
I consider that. Really consider it. I don't know. I love my job. I love Hayes Tech. I love what we're building, the innovations we're creating. But sometimes I wonder if I've sacrificed too much for it. If I've missed out on things that matter.
I understand that feeling.
Do you?
My custody hearing is in thirty days, Elijah says quietly, still staring at the city. My lawyer says I'll lose my niece because I'm not married. That I can't provide a 'stable home environment' as a single man.
My heart stops. What?
He finally looks at me, and there's pain in his eyes. Real pain. The Whitmore my sister's in-laws are arguing I can't provide proper care for a five-year-old girl. They have a marriage of forty years, a big house in Pacific Heights, connections to every judge in the city. I have late nights at the office and no wife. His voice is bitter. Apparently, that makes me fundamentally unfit to raise my own niece.
That's insane. You're her guardian. Your sister chose you.
Family court doesn't care about that as much as they care about optics. Stability. Traditional family structures. He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. I could be the best guardian in the world, but if I can't check their boxes, I lose her.
I stare at him. This confident, successful man who exposed Marcus without breaking a sweat is breaking now. Over a little girl he loves.
That's insane, I say again, softer this time.
That's family court.
We're both quiet. The city hums below us. Music drifts from the ballroom.
And suddenly, an idea forms. Crazy. Impossible. Completely insane.
But maybe...
I need a husband, I say, my heart pounding.
Elijah looks at me. What?
You need a wife. The words tumble out faster now. We both need something the other can provide. We both have impossible deadlines. We both stand to lose everything that matters if we don't find a solution.
Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?
A contract marriage, I say, the idea crystallizing as I speak. Ninety days. Long enough for me to meet my grandfather's deadline and for you to get through your custody hearing. Then we divorce. Clean. Simple. Transactional.
Elijah stares at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have.
You're serious.
Completely insane. But yes, serious.
We barely know each other.
Which makes it less complicated. No emotions to navigate. No expectations to manage. No messy feelings to deal with afterward. I'm talking faster now, convincing myself as much as him. Just a business arrangement between two desperate people who need each other.
He's quiet for a long moment, studying me with those intense dark eyes.
If we did this, he finally says, his voice careful, measured, it would have to be real. Legal marriage. Living together. Public appearances. The judge evaluating my case and your board would have to completely believe it's legitimate.
I know.
Separate bedrooms. No physical relationship. Purely professional.
Obviously.
And after ninety days?
We reassess. Divorce if we want. Or stay married on paper if it benefits us both. But either way, we'd be free to live our own lives.
More silence. The music from the ballroom swells. Someone laughs. The world continues, oblivious to the insane conversation happening on this balcony.
Then Elijah says: I need to think about this.
So do I. My hands are shaking. I can't believe I just proposed marriage to a man I've met twice. This is crazy.
Completely crazy.
But maybe it's the only option we have left.
Maybe.
He pulls out his phone. Can I call you? Tomorrow?
Yes.
Your number?
I recite it. He types it in, then shows me the screen to confirm. My name is there now, in his contacts.
Cassandra Hayes, he says slowly, looking at me with an expression I can't quite read. Are you really desperate enough to marry a complete stranger?
Are you?
His smile is sad, tired, but genuine. For my niece? To keep her safe and in my life? I'd do anything. Even marry a woman I barely know.
For my grandfather's company and everything it represents? So can I.
We shake hands. His grip is firm, warm, solid. Real.
We're sealing something that isn't quite a deal yet. But might be. Soon.
I'll call you tomorrow, Elijah says. We'll discuss terms. Figure out if this insane idea could actually work.
Terms for a fake marriage. I can't believe this is really happening.
Only if we both agree it's the least insane option we have left.
He releases my hand, steps back. For a moment, we just look at each other. Two desperate people on a balcony, considering the craziest solution imaginable.
Then he walks away, leaving me alone with the city lights and my racing thoughts.
My phone is in my hand. His number now saved in my contacts.
In twenty-four hours, I might be engaged to a man I barely know.
For the craziest reason imaginable.
And somehow, standing here in the cool San Francisco night, that feels like the first smart decision I've made in weeks.