Rosa's POV
I'm twenty minutes early to the restaurant, which means I have twenty minutes to panic.
My hands won't stop shaking. I've read that mysterious text a hundred times since yesterday. Ask your father what really happened to Julie. The photo of Gerald with that blonde woman burns in my mind. And the warning: Trust no one.
But here I am anyway, about to meet Gerald Whitmore and agree to marry him.
Because what choice do I have?
I tried talking to my mother last night. She slapped me across the face and said I was being selfish. My father won't even answer my calls now. Elena begged me not to go through with it, but she doesn't understand. If I refuse, my family loses everything. And despite how they treat me, they're still my family.
I'm trapped.
The restaurant door opens and my heart stops.
Gerald Whitmore walks in and he's even more devastating than I remember. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that probably costs more than my car. His dark hair is perfect. His jaw is sharp enough to cut glass.
But his eyes—God, his eyes are so cold. Like looking at a frozen lake.
He sees me and something flashes across his face. Surprise? Disappointment? I can't tell. He walks over slowly, and I stand up too fast, nearly knocking over my water glass.
"Rosa." His voice is deep and empty of emotion.
"Gerald." I can barely get the word out.
He sits without pulling out my chair. Without smiling. Without anything that makes this feel like a date or even a meeting between two humans. He looks at me like I'm a business problem he needs to solve.
"Let's make this quick," he says, pulling papers from his briefcase. "I have another meeting in an hour."
The words sting. I'm worth an hour of his time. Maybe less.
"Okay," I whisper.
He slides a thick document across the table. "This is the marriage contract. Read it carefully."
My hands tremble as I pick it up. The words blur together but certain phrases jump out: Marriage in name only. Separate residences within the marital home. No expectation of physical intimacy. Financial arrangements to be handled by attorneys. Duration: minimum three years or until merger is complete.
I'm reading a business contract for my own marriage.
"You'll live in my penthouse," Gerald continues, his voice flat. "But we'll have separate bedrooms, separate lives. In public, we'll appear as a married couple. In private, you stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours."
I look up at him. He's staring at his phone, not even watching my reaction.
"So I'm just... what? A prop?" My voice comes out stronger than I feel.
His eyes snap to mine, and for a second I see something flicker. Guilt? Then it's gone. "You're a business partner. This arrangement benefits both our families."
"Benefits you and my father, you mean. What do I get?"
"A rich husband. Social status. Financial security." He says it like I should be grateful.
I should sign. I should just agree and get this over with.
But that text message haunts me. And something about Gerald's coldness feels wrong. Forced. Like he's acting.
"Why did you agree to this?" I ask suddenly. "You loved Julie. Everyone knows that. Why would you marry me?"
Gerald's jaw tightens. "That's none of your concern."
"I think it is, actually. Since I'm the one you're marrying."
"This is a business arrangement," he says sharply. "My reasons are my own. Now, are you going to sign or not? Because if you're going to waste my time—"
"I got a text yesterday." The words burst out before I can stop them. "From someone who said I should ask my father what really happened to Julie. That nothing about this wedding is what I think."
Gerald goes completely still. His face turns to stone.
"What?" His voice is deadly quiet.
"Someone sent me a photo of you with another woman. And a message saying—"
"What did it say exactly?" He leans forward, his eyes intense now. Not cold anymore. Burning.
"That I should ask my father about Julie's death. That I should trust no one." I swallow hard. "Did you get a message too?"
Gerald stares at me for a long moment. I can see him thinking, calculating, deciding whether to trust me.
Finally, he pulls out his phone and shows me a text.
My blood turns to ice as I read it.
Julie was murdered. Rosa's life is in danger the moment she becomes your wife.
"Oh my God," I breathe.
"I got that last night," Gerald says. His voice is different now. Urgent. Real. "Right after I agreed to this marriage. Someone knows something about Julie's death. And they're trying to warn us."
"Warn us about what? About my father?" My mind is racing. "You don't think... you don't think my father had something to do with Julie dying?"
"I don't know what I think anymore." Gerald runs a hand through his perfect hair, messing it up. He looks almost human suddenly. Vulnerable. "But I called your father last night and asked where he was the night Julie died. He lied. I heard it in his voice."
My stomach drops. "What?"
"Rosa." Gerald looks at me directly for the first time. Really looks at me. "What do you know about the night your sister died?"
"Nothing. Just that she went to a party and drove off a cliff on the way home. The police said she was drinking—"
"What if that's not what happened?" Gerald's voice is intense. "What if someone killed her? What if your father—"
"No." I shake my head hard. "No, my father might be cold but he loved Julie. She was his favorite. He would never—"
"Then why is he lying about that night?" Gerald demands. "Why is someone warning us? Why—"
He stops mid-sentence, his eyes going wide.
"What?" I ask.
"The person who sent those texts." Gerald's face has gone pale. "They said they'd be watching at our meeting today. They said they'd see me here."
We both look around the restaurant at the same time.
It's not crowded. A few business people having lunch. An older couple in the corner. A woman sitting alone by the window, typing on her laptop.
The blonde woman from the photo. The one who had her hand on Gerald's arm.
She looks up and meets my eyes. Then she smiles.
And mouths two words: "Help me."
Before I can react, she stands up quickly and walks out the back exit of the restaurant.
"That's her," I gasp. "The woman from the photo—"
Gerald is already moving. "Stay here."
"No way." I grab my purse and follow him.
We rush through the restaurant to the back exit. The door leads to an alley. The woman is running, her heels clicking on the pavement.
"Wait!" Gerald shouts.
She stops and turns around. Up close, she's even more beautiful. But her eyes are terrified.
"You're both in danger," she says breathlessly. "I can't talk here. They're watching. But you need to know—Julie didn't die in an accident. She was murdered because she found out the truth."
"What truth?" I demand. "Who are you?"
"My name is Vanessa Cole. I was Julie's best friend." She looks at Gerald with something like pity. "And Gerald, I'm sorry, but you never knew the real Julie at all. She was playing you. She was playing everyone. And when she tried to stop, they killed her."
"Who killed her?" Gerald's voice shakes.
Vanessa opens her mouth to answer.
The gunshot echoes through the alley like thunder.
Vanessa crumples to the ground, blood spreading across her white blouse.
Gerald and I both scream.
And from somewhere above us, a voice calls down cold and clear:
"That's what happens to people who talk. Sign the contract, Rosa. Marry Gerald. Or you're next."