Mia's POV
Mia wants to slap him.
She's on her feet before she even realizes she's moving. "I loved Henry. I didn't know who he was. He was just a customer. A kind old man who needed someone to talk to."
Adrian laughs. It's the cruelest sound she's ever heard.
"Right," he says. "You just happened to befriend a billionaire at a diner. Pure coincidence. Had nothing to do with his money or his company or his will. You were just being nice."
"Yes."
"You expect me to believe that?"
Mia's voice breaks. "I don't care what you believe. I'm telling you the truth. I had no idea who Henry was. He came to the diner every Thursday. He ordered the same thing. We talked. That's it. That's all it ever was."
Adrian walks closer. He's so tall she has to look up at him. His blue eyes are cold and angry and certain about what she is. "You're a con artist, Mia Chen. Maybe not a very experienced one. But that's what you are. And now you're going to cash in on the mark you found."
"I'm not cashing in on anything. I didn't ask for this. I don't want this."
"Then refuse the marriage."
Mia opens her mouth. She should refuse. She should walk out of this building and never come back. She should tell Adrian Westwood exactly what she thinks of him and his cold, cruel assumptions. She should be fierce and strong and independent.
But she's not. She's just a girl from foster care who's tired of struggling.
"Five million dollars," Adrian says suddenly.
Mia blinks. "What?"
"I'll give you five million dollars to walk away and marry me. That's the deal. Sign the papers. Be my wife for one year. Show up to events. Smile for cameras. Play the part. Then we divorce quietly and you disappear with five million dollars in your bank account. You never contact me or my family again. We never see each other. We never speak. Done."
Five million dollars.
The number sits in the room like something alive and dangerous.
Mia tries to do the math in her head but her brain is scrambled. Five million dollars is more money than she'll see in her entire lifetime. Five million dollars is culinary school and rent paid for years and her own bakery with her name on the window and money left over to help Rosie and donate to foster care programs and maybe even buy her own apartment that doesn't have walls so thin she can hear her neighbors fighting.
Five million dollars is everything.
"Plus unlimited use of my credit card while we're married," Adrian continues, like he's reading her mind. "For clothes and appearances and whatever else you need to look the part of Mrs. Adrian Westwood. After we divorce, you keep the five million. The credit card is canceled. You're on your own again."
Mia wants to say no. She wants to tell him she's not for sale. She wants to be the kind of person who can't be bought by money. But she's never been that kind of person. She's been hungry too many times. She's been cold too many nights. She's been told she was worthless by too many people.
"Why would you do this?" she asks. "If you think I'm a con artist, why give me anything?"
"Because I'm a businessman. And the math is simple. Give you five million or lose everything. Five million is better than nothing. It's also a small price to convince my father's lawyer and my mother that I'm honoring his will while controlling the situation."
Adrian sits on the edge of the table. He's so close she can smell his expensive cologne. "You want culinary school. You want a bakery. You want a real life. I want my company. My father just gave us both something we want. He just forced us to make a deal with each other instead of with him."
"That's not what this is," Mia whispers.
"That's exactly what this is. A transaction. You get money. I get my company. Nobody gets hurt. Everybody wins."
Mia thinks about her tiny apartment. Her glass jar with barely thirty thousand dollars saved over seven years. The rejection emails from culinary schools that cost forty thousand dollars a year. The way Rosie looks tired all the time because she works double shifts. The way Mia has to choose between groceries and bus fare some weeks.
"Okay," she says.
Adrian's eyebrows rise. "That was easy."
"Don't be happy about it." Her voice is sharp now. Sharp and angry and something like ashamed. "You don't know anything about me. You decided I was garbage without even meeting me. You ran a background check on my worst moment and decided that was all I was. So no, I'm not going to sit here and defend myself to someone who already made up his mind."
"Fair enough."
"But I need more."
Adrian's expression changes. It hardens. "You're negotiating? Really?"
"Yeah, I am. You said five million. But you're a billionaire and I'm changing my entire life for this. I'm going to have to quit my job. I'm going to have people hating me. I'm going to be in tabloids and magazines and gossip columns. I'm going to have cameras in my face everywhere I go. I'm going to be called names and accused of things I didn't do. So yeah. I'm negotiating."
Adrian stands up. He walks to the window. For a long moment he doesn't say anything. Then his shoulders drop a little. Just a little. Like he's tired.
"How much?" he asks.
"I don't know. What's it worth to you?"
Adrian turns around. And for the first time since he walked into this conference room, he looks at her like she's a real person and not just a problem to solve. "Seven million."
"Ten."
"Eight."
Mia's heart is pounding so hard she thinks it might break her ribs. "Ten million. That's what it's worth. That's the price for turning my life inside out for a year. That's the cost of being your wife and having your mother hate me and your ex-fiancée make my life hell and random people on the internet calling me a gold digger."
Adrian studies her face for so long she thinks she might scream. His blue eyes search for something. Truth maybe. Or weakness. Or maybe just proof that she's exactly what he thinks she is.
"Ten million," he finally says. "That's my final offer. One year of playing pretend wife. Playing the part perfectly when we're in public. Wearing what I tell you to wear. Going where I tell you to go. Smiling when cameras flash. And after one year, clean divorce. The ten million gets transferred to an account in your name. You disappear. You never tell anyone the truth about our marriage. You never contact my family. You start your new life and I start mine. Agreed?"
Mia thinks about her seventeen foster homes. She thinks about every social worker who said she didn't have potential. Every teacher who didn't expect her to graduate. Every person who looked at her like she was broken. She thinks about the glass jar at home with thirty thousand dollars that cost her seven years of two jobs and saying no to everything.
She thinks about Henry sitting in that booth telling her she was special. Telling her she'd make it. Believing in her when nobody else did.
Maybe he's doing this from wherever he is now. Maybe this is his last gift to her. Maybe he knew his son would be impossible and rich and offer her money and that she would need it.
Maybe he was saving her one final time.
"Okay," she whispers. The word comes out broken and small and sad.
Adrian's expression doesn't change. "Okay?"
"I'll do it. I'll marry you. For ten million dollars. For one year. And then we're done."
Adrian nods slowly. "We'll need to draw up a contract. Get lawyers involved. Make it all official and binding."
"Okay."
"The wedding will be this weekend. My team will handle everything. You just show up and say the words. Can you do that?"
Mia nods even though she doesn't know if she can. She doesn't know how she's going to do any of this. How she's going to marry someone who hates her. How she's going to pretend to be happy when she's terrified. How she's going to survive a year of playing a role while her real life gets torn apart.
But ten million dollars will change everything.
And maybe that's worth the cost.
Adrian pulls out his phone. "I'll call my lawyer. She'll draft the contract tonight. You'll come back tomorrow morning to sign." He looks at her one more time. "One more thing. Don't tell anyone about the money. Not Rosie. Not your friends. Not anyone. This arrangement stays between us."
"Why?"
"Because if people know you're being paid, it looks exactly like what it is. Transactional. If we're going to pull this off, everyone has to believe we actually want this. Everyone has to believe it's real."
Mia realizes then that she's not just signing up for a marriage. She's signing up to lie every single day for three hundred and sixty-five days. She's signing up to pretend in public and be alone in private. She's signing up to smile while her heart breaks.
"When do I start?" she asks.
"Tomorrow. Pack a bag. You'll move into the mansion. Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Westwood."
Adrian leaves before she can say anything else.
Mia stands alone in the conference room with her hands shaking and her heart racing and ten million dollars hanging in the balance.
She just made a deal with the devil.
And the worst part is she knew exactly what she was doing when she did it.