The rain poured heavily over London that night, beating against the glass windows of the café where Elena Carter sat with trembling hands. Her mother's hospital bill was folded in her bag, but the numbers danced in her head: £15,000. An impossible amount for a girl working two shifts and barely surviving.
She didn't notice the man until his shadow fell over her table. Tall. Expensive suit. Cold eyes like polished steel. He placed his coffee on her table without asking.
"You're Elena Carter," he said, his voice deep, commanding.
Her heart skipped. How does he know my name?
"Yes… who are you?" she whispered.
He leaned forward. "Damien Cole. Billionaire. CEO of Cole Enterprises. I don't waste time, so I'll get straight to the point. I need a wife."
Elena blinked, certain she misheard.
"A… wife?"
"Not out of love," Damien continued, his tone as sharp as a blade. "A contract marriage. One year. You will act as Mrs. Cole in public, follow my rules, and in return he slid a cheque across the table, "I will pay your mother's medical bills, plus an additional five hundred thousand pounds."
Elena's throat went dry. She pushed the cheque back with trembling fingers. "Why me? I don't even know you."
"Exactly." His lips curved into the faintest smirk. "You're ordinary. No scandals, no hidden agendas. That makes you perfect. All you have to do is sign."
Her mind screamed to say no, but her heart… her heart remembered the oxygen mask over her mother's fragile face.
Damien's eyes locked onto hers. "So, Elena. Do we have a deal?"