Ariana Blake wiped the sweat off her brow as she rushed through the hospital's dimly lit corridors. The sharp scent of antiseptic burned her nose, and the harsh fluorescent lights cast cold shadows across the sterile white tiles.
Her heart pounded against her ribcage like a wild drumbeat.
"Please... please let him be okay."
As she reached the ICU, the nurse standing by the door shook her head gently. Ariana's breath caught in her throat.
"Miss Blake," the doctor approached solemnly, "we've stabilized him for now, but... without the surgery, his condition will worsen. We need the payment before proceeding."
Ariana's stomach twisted. The amount was impossible half a million dollars.
"Isn't there anything else you can do?" she pleaded, voice cracking.
The doctor's eyes were kind, but firm. "I'm sorry."
Ariana's father had sacrificed everything for her after her mother died. Now, when he needed her most, she had nothing to offer.
As she stumbled outside, rain started to pour, soaking her thin blouse instantly. The city lights blurred as tears mixed with rainwater on her cheeks.
"I have no one left to turn to..."
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Unknown number.
Hesitant, she answered.
"Hello?"
A deep, calm voice spoke.
"Miss Blake, I have a proposition for you."
Her pulse quickened. "Who is this?"
"You may call me Mr. Lancaster's representative. My employer wishes to meet you tonight. It concerns your... financial troubles."
Ariana froze.
Damien Lancaster?
Everyone in New York knew him ruthless billionaire, cold-hearted, untouchable. He owned half the city, and the other half feared him.
"What does he want from me?" she whispered.
"That's for Mr. Lancaster to discuss in person. Shall I send a car?"
She hesitated. Every warning bell inside her screamed run. But she had no choice.
"Yes."
Two hours later, she stood in the grand marble lobby of Lancaster Enterprises. The towering building loomed like a cathedral of power. Every step echoed in the silence, intimidating yet mesmerizing.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing a sharply dressed man.
"Miss Blake." His voice was like velvet laced with steel. "Please, follow me."
She followed him to the top floor, where massive glass windows offered a breathtaking view of the rain-drenched city.
At the end of the room, behind a sleek mahogany desk, sat Damien Lancaster.
His piercing gray eyes locked onto hers the moment she entered.
He was even more intimidating in person tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair perfectly styled. His face was carved with cold precision, like a marble sculpture brought to life.
"Miss Blake." His voice was deep, controlled. "Please, sit."
Her legs trembled slightly as she lowered herself onto the leather chair across from him.
"I hear your father requires urgent surgery," he began, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "And you are... financially incapable of affording it."
Her cheeks flushed with shame, but she nodded.
"I can help you," Damien said simply.
Her breath hitched. "How?"
He slid a folder across the desk.
She opened it with shaky hands. Inside was a legal contract.
Marriage Agreement.
Ariana blinked.
"This... is a marriage contract."
"Yes." His expression remained unreadable. "I require a wife for personal reasons. You require funds. A mutually beneficial arrangement."
Her mind spun.
"Why me?" she managed to ask.
"You meet my requirements. No entanglements. No scandals. And... you are agreeable enough in appearance."
The bluntness stung.
"I'm not for sale," she whispered, her voice tight.
"You misunderstand, Miss Blake." His voice turned slightly colder. "This is not a purchase. This is business."
She clenched her fists, staring at the bold terms on the page.
One year of marriage. Public appearances. Discretion. No romantic obligations.
The compensation?
Exactly the amount she needed. And more.
Her father's life hung in the balance.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Do I have a choice?" she whispered.
"There is always a choice," Damien said smoothly. "But few with better outcomes."
He stood, offering his hand.
"Decide. Tonight."
Ariana walked back into the rainy night, the contract folder clutched tightly to her chest.
The storm howled around her, but nothing matched the tempest inside her heart.