Brooklyn James barely slept.
She lay on her twin-sized dorm bed, staring at the ceiling as the soft hum of the overhead fan filled the silence. Her roommate had gone home for the weekend, but even if she'd been there, Brooklyn wouldn't have noticed. Her thoughts were too loud.
He offered me two hundred thousand dollars.
To marry him.
For one year.
The rain had stopped, but the storm inside her hadn't.
She replayed everything in her mind — the hospital bill, the nurse's words, Damien Carter's icy blue eyes, his perfect suit, his unapologetic tone when he said, "You won't fall in love."
Brooklyn had never been impulsive. She made lists before buying shampoo. But this wasn't a decision she could plan her way out of. It was madness. Insanity. It went against every belief she'd ever held about marriage.
And yet… her phone vibrated again, flashing a reminder from the hospital's online billing system.
Payment overdue.
She sat up slowly, pressing a palm against her chest as if it could steady her racing heart. Her mother had always been the strong one. The steady one. Now she could barely sit up without help. And Brooklyn was out of time, out of favors, and out of choices.
She grabbed her laptop and searched "Damien Carter wife rumor." Nothing. No scandals. No crazy exes. No secret kids. Just headlines about a "bachelor billionaire" and his ruthless business moves.
He didn't need love. He needed a pawn. And she… she needed a miracle.
---
The Next Morning
Brooklyn stood at the bus stop wearing her cleanest white blouse and her one pair of black heels. Her curly hair was tied in a low puff, lips bare, no makeup. She looked nothing like a woman about to walk into a deal with a billionaire.
But maybe that was the point.
She clutched her tote bag tightly, her fingers wrapped around the hospital bill inside like it was a weapon. Because it was — proof of her desperation. Her reality.
When she reached the hospital, her mother was asleep. The IV drip ticked quietly in the background. Brooklyn sat beside her and held her hand gently.
"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, Mom," she whispered. "But I think it's the only thing I can do."
Her mother stirred faintly, murmuring something incoherent before falling back asleep. Brooklyn kissed her forehead and stood. Her heart felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
---
6:55 PM — The Rosemont Hotel, Downtown L.A.
The rooftop bar was everything she expected: luxurious, minimalistic, expensive. Floor-to-ceiling glass panels framed the skyline like art. Soft jazz played through hidden speakers, and golden lighting bathed the space in warmth.
Brooklyn walked in, head high, heart pounding.
Damien Carter sat at a private corner table near the edge, a glass of something dark in front of him. He looked up as she approached, his expression unreadable.
"You came," he said simply.
She nodded, pulling out the chair and sitting across from him. "I still think this is insane."
"I never said it wasn't," he replied.
A waitress appeared silently. Brooklyn asked for water. Damien watched her, his gaze calm but calculating.
"So," she began. "How does this work exactly?"
He reached into his briefcase and slid a folder across the table. Inside were printed documents — multiple pages, neatly clipped. The words "Confidential Marriage Agreement" were typed at the top.
Brooklyn exhaled slowly. "You already had this prepared?"
"I'm a man of precision," he said. "Read it. Ask anything."
She skimmed through the document.
One-year term.
A hundred thousand dollars paid upon signing.
No intimacy required unless mutually agreed.
Appearances together in public — galas, fundraisers, interviews.
Non-disclosure clause.
Termination penalty if either party walks out early.
It felt less like a marriage and more like a corporate role.
"You thought of everything," she murmured.
"I don't gamble, Brooklyn."
She glanced up. "Why me? Really?"
Damien's expression didn't change. "You're smart. You're invisible in the public eye. And most importantly… you're not the type to make this emotional."
Brooklyn swallowed. If only he knew.
She stared at the contract again. Two hundred thousand dollars. That was four years of tuition. Her mom's treatments. Rent. Groceries. A future.
But could she live with herself?
"What if I told you I had a secret?" she asked suddenly.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "What kind of secret?"
She looked down. "One I'm not ready to share."
Damien was quiet for a long beat.
"Then I'll respect that," he said finally. "But if it ever threatens the deal, I expect to know."
Brooklyn met his eyes. He wasn't cold — he was controlled. And oddly enough, she felt safer here with this powerful stranger than she had with anyone in months.
She reached for the pen inside the folder. Her hands shook slightly as she signed her name on the last page.
Brooklyn James.
Damien slid a check across the table, already signed.
"One hundred thousand," he said. "The rest comes after the divorce is finalized next year."
She stared at the check. That simple piece of paper could change everything.
"From this moment forward," Damien said, his voice cool and firm, "you're my wife."
---
Later That Night
Brooklyn stood in her dorm, staring at the signed contract in her hand. She was no longer single. She was no longer drowning.
She was someone's wife — on paper.
But her biggest secret still lingered like a shadow.
Her fingers drifted to her stomach, barely showing, still hidden.
How long before he finds out about the baby?