Anne sat cross-legged on the plush rug of the apartment, the silence around her so loud it almost echoed. The contract lay open on the coffee table in front of her. Her eyes skimmed the dense text for the fifth time that morning, but the words still didn't feel real.
A marriage contract.
With a man she barely knew.
And yet… at the bottom of the page, just before the signature line, was a figure that made her breath hitch in her throat.
Ten million dollars.
Her fingers trembled as she traced the number again, as if it might change. But it didn't.
"Ten million…" she whispered.
That was enough to wipe her father's debts clean—twice over. Enough to buy her mother a proper gravestone. Enough to walk away from the cramped, suffocating apartment she shared with her uncle and never look back.
She'd have a place to live. Clothes to wear. A life where she wasn't constantly counting coins and praying the lights wouldn't go out again.
But in return… she'd become someone's wife.
Anne leaned back, exhaling sharply. "What kind of man offers a stranger a ten million dollars to marry him?"
Then again, maybe that was the point. Rayden wasn't looking for love. He was buying security. Legitimacy. Control.
And she… well, she was desperate enough to consider selling her name to survive.
Her hands balled into fists. "I need to talk to Brian…"
__
Across the city, in an office wrapped in glass and ambition, Rayden Lancaster stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his jaw clenched.
"You really think you can walk in here after two years in Japan and demand my chair?" he said coolly, without turning to face the man lounging on the sofa behind him.
Flynn Lancaster, charming and venomous in equal measure, chuckled. "Come now, cousin. You didn't think I flew halfway across the world just to play golf with the board members, did you?"
Rayden finally turned, his cold eyes sharp enough to cut steel. "This company was built under my name. You want it? Get in line."
Flynn smirked. "Your name, yes. But the board still remembers how messy your last relationship was. One scandal away from losing everything, aren't you?"
Rayden's fists tightened, but before he could reply, the office door opened.
"Rayden!" a bright, feminine voice called out. "Oh good, you're both here!"
Kayla.
And behind her, walking with a regal grace that could silence an entire room, was Madam Eleanor Lancaster—Rayden's mother.
"Mother," Rayden greeted stiffly.
"We're having a family lunch. No excuses," Eleanor said, her tone final. "The car is waiting."
Rayden sighed inwardly. Great. A power-hungry cousin, an overly ambitious 'fiancée,' and a mother who believed manipulation was an art form—all at the same table.
It was going to be hell.
__
The lunch was worse than he expected.
Kayla kept referring to their 'upcoming engagement,' while Flynn stirred the pot with every comment about leadership transitions and legacy.
His mother, of course, said nothing. She didn't have to. Her approving smile toward Kayla said everything.
Rayden gritted his teeth, his hand tightening around his glass of wine.
Anne, he thought suddenly.
He'd never needed anything—or anyone—as much as he needed her now.
Not because of affection. Not because of attraction.
But because she was his only way out.
Please say yes, Anne.
He stared into the crimson swirl of his drink. Please.
__
Later that evening, Anne paced in the apartment's living room, the contract now covered in scribbled notes and neon pink sticky tabs.
She finally grabbed her phone and called Brian.
"I need to ask about some clauses," she said the moment he picked up. "There are... things I need explained."
"I understand," Brian replied professionally. "When would you like to meet?"
Before Anne could answer, she heard another voice in the background—deep, composed, unmistakable.
"She's not discussing it without me."
Anne's eyes widened. "Was that…?"
Brian sighed. "Mr. Rayden insists on being present."
Anne groaned inwardly. This wasn't supposed to be another dramatic confrontation. She just wanted answers. Quiet ones.
But twenty minutes later, she found herself back in the same apartment—across from the same man—whose cold stare could freeze the sun.
"I just want to understand," she began, holding up her copy of the contract, now creased and highlighted. "Some parts are… vague. Like the part about privacy. And press appearances."
Rayden didn't flinch. "What do you want to change?"
Anne hesitated. "I want to limit physical thing in public events, no kissing on camera. And... I want the option to leave after two years, if things go south."
Rayden's brows lifted slightly, but he said nothing.
Brian began taking notes quietly.
"And," Anne added, voice firming, "I want the money wired only after the marriage is legally registered. Not before."
Rayden's eyes met hers—this time, not cold, but… curious. Almost amused.
"You're bold," he murmured.
"I'm careful," Anne corrected him. "I don't sell myself cheap, Mr. Lancaster."
Rayden's lips curved into something dangerously close to a smile. "Good. You shouldn't."
Anne blinked.
And for the first time since this whirlwind started… she didn't feel like prey.
She felt like a negotiator.
And she was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, she was more than ready for this game.
But then—Her eyes drifted back to the contract, to the section she'd highlighted with a jagged underline just hours ago. Her stomach flipped.
There was… one more thing.
Something not mentioned. Not clarified.
Something that had been clawing at the back of her mind ever since she saw the word marriage printed in bold.
Her fingers tapped nervously against the folder.
Rayden noticed.
"You have more revisions?" he asked, voice low and unreadable.
Anne hesitated.
She looked at Brian, who was still scribbling notes, then back at Rayden.
"I…" she cleared her throat. "There's one clause—or rather, a missing one—that I feel should be addressed."
Rayden leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "Go on."
Anne inhaled, eyes glued to the contract as if she were speaking to the paper instead of the man across from her.
"There's no mention of… physical relations," she said quickly. "I mean, I know this is technically a marriage, but there's nothing in here about intimacy. Expectations. Boundaries."
There. She said it.
And instantly wanted to sink into the floor.
Brian froze mid-sentence, his pen hovering awkwardly in the air.
Rayden, however, didn't flinch.
Instead, a slow smile curved on his lips—dangerous, calculating, amused.
"I see," he said.
Anne squirmed under his gaze. "I'm just saying... I think it's important. If this is going to be a contractual marriage, then it should be clear what is and isn't expected. I don't want—"
"To end up in my bed by default?" he finished for her, voice smooth as silk.
Her cheeks flamed. "Exactly."
Rayden exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Miss Dwasond, you're… twenty-two, right?"
Anne blinked. "Yes."
"I'm thirty-two," he said, voice steady. "I don't chase after girls barely out of college. I don't need to."
Anne swallowed. "I didn't mean to assume—"
"But you're right to ask," he interrupted gently, this time without teasing. "And you're right to clarify."
He nodded toward Brian, who was now visibly uncomfortable.
"Add a clause," Rayden instructed. "No physical intimacy unless mutually agreed upon by both parties. Consent, always."
Brian scribbled fast, grateful for the shift in tone.
Anne exhaled slowly. Her heart was still pounding, but not from fear now—just the aftershock of addressing something no one wanted to say out loud.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Rayden studied her for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "You're not what I expected."
Anne frowned. "What did you expect?"
"Someone desperate enough to sign without reading," he said simply. "Not someone who negotiates like a lawyer and blushes like a nun."
Anne couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. "Well, I've had to learn the hard way. Nothing good comes free."
"Smart girl," he murmured.
A silence settled between them again—but this time, it was almost comfortable.
Almost.
"You have one more day," Rayden said, standing up and adjusting his cufflinks. "Use it however you want. But if you have more questions…" He paused, eyes locking with hers. "Ask them. I prefer discomfort over misunderstanding."
Anne stood too, smoothing her skirt.
"I'll think about it," she said, voice more confident now. "And I'll send my revisions—final ones—by tomorrow."
Rayden nodded.
Brian stepped forward, holding the marked-up contract with care. "I'll take care of the adjustments."
As Anne turned toward the door, she paused and glanced back.
"Mr. Lancaster?"
Rayden raised an eyebrow.
"If I agree to this… What happens next?"
A beat passed before he answered.
"Then we get married," he said simply. "And the real game begins."
Anne's heart thudded.
She left the apartment with her head high, contract in hand, and one thought echoing in her mind:
This isn't just about money anymore.
This is about control. Survival. And maybe—just maybe—revenge.