The ink had barely dried when Aurora felt the weight of her decision settle onto her shoulders like chains.
She sat in the private office on the top floor of Hayes International Tower, its wide windows offering a sweeping view of the city skyline, glittering and cold—just like the man sitting across from her.
Lucien Hayes.
The name alone could freeze a room. CEO. Billionaire. Kingmaker. And now… her husband.
On paper.
Aurora's fingers trembled slightly as she placed the pen down, her gaze drifting to the edge of the marriage contract. Her signature looked foreign there, trapped beside his.
"Three years," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "That's all."
Lucien leaned back in his chair, sharp suit molded to his tall, sculpted frame. His dark eyes studied her without emotion, as if she were a business acquisition rather than a woman.
"That's the deal." His voice was deep, smooth—like whiskey poured over ice. "Three years of marriage. No interference in each other's personal lives. Public appearances when necessary. In return, your father's debts are gone, and your company survives."
Aurora swallowed hard, chin lifting. "And after three years, divorce. No claims. No attachments."
A faint smirk curved his lips. "You assume I'll want to let you go after three years."
Her spine stiffened. "This is a contract. Not a real marriage."
"You keep saying that," Lucien said, rising from his seat. He towered over her now, each step toward her echoing with menace and something darker—something magnetic. "But marriage is a binding thing, Aurora. Especially when signed… willingly."
He stopped in front of her, fingers brushing a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear. The touch was deceptively gentle, yet it sent a shiver down her spine.
"You belong to me now."
Aurora didn't sleep that night.
Not because she was afraid—but because everything inside her screamed.
She'd just sold herself.
Not for money. For survival.
Her father's company was drowning in debt after a scandal she hadn't even caused. She'd begged, pleaded, and when the banks turned their backs, only one door had remained open.
Lucien Hayes.
But why had he agreed? They had barely spoken before this arrangement. In the business world, he was known for being ruthless, calculating—and uninterested in women, at least emotionally.
He could have any woman. Why her?
"Because I said yes," she whispered bitterly in the hotel suite he'd arranged for her.
The wedding had been a silent, private affair. Just a lawyer, a judge, and two cold signatures.
No vows. No kisses. No guests.
She was now Mrs. Aurora Hayes.
The next morning, she was summoned.
"Mr. Hayes wants you to move into the mansion today," said his assistant on the phone, her voice polite and impersonal.
"I thought we agreed on separate lives," Aurora muttered.
"He insisted."
The mansion was nothing short of a fortress—stone, glass, and steel, tucked into a hillside outside the city. Bodyguards flanked the gates. Surveillance lined the walls.
As the car pulled up, Aurora gripped her bag tighter. This wasn't a home. It was a golden cage.
Lucien didn't greet her.
Instead, the housekeeper—a silent, older woman named Mrs. Lin—guided her through the halls. Everything was sleek, modern, impersonal. No photos. No warmth.
"This will be your room," Mrs. Lin said, opening the door to a guest suite on the second floor. "The master bedroom is across the hall."
"I won't need access to that," Aurora said quickly.
Mrs. Lin smiled faintly, as if she'd heard that before.
That night, she met him again.
Lucien stood in the dimly lit dining room, sleeves rolled up, collar slightly open, glass of wine in his hand. His expression was unreadable as she stepped in.
"Getting comfortable, Mrs. Hayes?" he asked.
Aurora ignored the mocking edge. "As comfortable as I can in a stranger's home."
He raised a brow. "We're not strangers anymore. You're wearing my ring."
She glanced at the thin platinum band on her finger. "A ring doesn't mean anything."
Lucien's gaze darkened. He took a step forward.
"I could make it mean something."
Her breath hitched. "That's not what we agreed—"
"No physical intimacy unless both parties consent. I remember." He stepped even closer. "But you should be careful, Aurora. There's a difference between avoiding touch… and tempting it."
She felt the heat of his presence. The clean scent of expensive cologne. Her heart raced.
"You want me to be afraid of you?" she asked, chin high.
Lucien tilted his head. "No."
He leaned in, breath brushing her cheek.
"I want you to wonder what would happen if you stopped pretending you weren't curious."
And then he walked away.
Leaving her breathless—and confused.
Days passed.
He was distant, unreadable. Yet he was always there—at breakfast, during charity events, when she walked through the hallways.
Watching.
Sometimes brushing past her too closely. Sometimes catching her eye and holding her gaze too long.
It was maddening.
Worse, it was working.
Aurora hated herself for noticing. For the way her eyes followed him in those perfectly tailored suits, for the way her body reacted to his voice.
But she also knew better.
Lucien Hayes didn't love.
He controlled. He possessed.
A week after the contract was signed, things shifted.
The company he promised to save—her family's company—was now under Hayes International.
She'd just finished a tense phone call with the board when Lucien appeared at her office door.
"You handled that well," he said.
She looked up. "You're spying on me now?"
He chuckled. "Monitoring. There's a difference."
She stood, frustration boiling. "This isn't what I wanted. I didn't agree to be your trophy or your pet."
His eyes narrowed. "Then stop acting like you're powerless."
He crossed the room, crowding her space.
"You signed the contract because you wanted to save your family. I respected that. But if you want to survive this marriage, Aurora, you need to stop being a victim and start being my equal."
Something snapped in her.
She shoved him back. "You don't know anything about me."
He didn't move, didn't react. Just watched her with calm intensity.
"No. But I'm starting to."
His hands lifted slowly—giving her time to pull away—but when she didn't, his fingers brushed along her jawline.
"I've seen the way you hide your strength behind silence. The way you fight even when you're scared."
His voice dropped. "It's… intoxicating."
Aurora's heart pounded.
"I'm not yours," she whispered.
Lucien's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Not yet."
That night, she couldn't sleep again.
This time, not from guilt.
But from the burning awareness of the man sleeping just across the hall.
The man who, little by little, was making her forget this marriage was supposed to be fake.
The man who touched her like she mattered. Who looked at her like she was something more than a pawn.
And worst of all…
She was starting to wish it were true.