The glass skyscraper of Blackwood Enterprises loomed above Lena like a giant judging her every step. Dressed in her one and only formal outfit a worn navy-blue blouse and black slacks she walked into the building, trying to hide the tremble in her limbs.
The receptionist barely glanced at her before dialing an internal line. "Miss Moore is here."
Moments later, a sharply dressed woman appeared. "Mr. Blackwood is waiting. Follow me."
The elevator ride was silent and tense, her reflection in the polished steel walls reminding her she didn't belong here.
When the doors opened on the top floor, the air itself felt colder.
She was led into a sleek, minimalist office where a tall man stood by the window, his back turned.
Damien Blackwood.
"Sit," he said without looking at her.
Lena sat, hands folded tightly in her lap.
He finally turned.
Dark gray eyes. Perfectly tailored suit. A face carved from stone beautiful and terrifying all at once.
He placed a folder on the desk between them. "The contract. Read it carefully."
Lena opened it. The terms were crystal clear:
One year of marriage.
No intimacy unless mutually agreed.
Appearances at public events.
Absolute confidentiality.
In return: full medical coverage for her mother, $200,000 upon divorce, and a place to stay.
"This is crazy," she murmured.
Damien's expression didn't change. "You need money. I need a wife. This benefits us both."
Lena looked up, meeting his cold gaze. "Why do you need a wife?"
His jaw ticked. "To shut my board up. They think I'm too... unstable to lead long-term without settling down."
There was more to it. She could feel it.
But she wasn't in a position to question further.
"You'll be free after one year. No strings," he added.
Lena closed the folder. Her hands were clammy, her heart racing.
"Alright," she said. "I'll marry you."
Damien extended his hand.
As her fingers touched his, a chill ran through her spine.
This wasn't just a contract. It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.