The text came early the next morning.
"He wants to see you again. 2pm, hotel Cornelius. Don't be late!"
My stomach sank. I almost deleted it. But when I turned to look at my mom sleeping, her chest rising weakly under the damp hospital blanket, I knew I didn't have the luxury to ignore it.
By 1:30pm, I was standing in front of the hotel.
Hotel Cornelius wasn't just rich. It screamed money.
Glass doors that opened automatically, and the air smelled like wealth and power. I turned around twice before forcing myself inside.
The receptionist barely looked up, probably used to women like me coming here for men like him.
"Conference room B. They're expecting you."
They?
When I stepped in, I understood. There were six other women already there. All stunning, polished and confident. Expensive perfume filled the air.
A woman in a tight white suit handed me a clipboard. "Fill this out. Mr Cole will see each of you individually."
Her tone was sharp like this was a job interview, not… whatever this was.
I sank into a seat and scanned the form. Name, age, marital status, education, medical history. Then questions that made my throat tighten.
"Would you agree to a confidentiality clause regarding Mr. Cole's personal affairs?"
"Would you be comfortable attending high- profile events as Mr. Cole's spouse?"
"Do you have any criminal record or outstanding debts?"
The others filled their forms like they'd done this before.
One blonde beside me whispered " He's even hotter in person."
Another giggled " I heard he's offering seven figures . A whole year pretending to be his wife? I'd do it for free in a heartbeat."
One by one, names were called. Each woman came out looking different, some smug, some deflated, one even angry.
Finally my name.
My palms were sweating when I opened the door.
Adrian Cole sat behind the desk like a judge, his expression blank. His eyes flicked up cold and assessing and back to his papers. For a while he said nothing. Just stared.
"Miss…?"
"Rivera," I said quietly. "Amara Rivera."
He nodded slightly. "You know why you're here."
His tone made it sound less like a question.
I swallowed hard. "To marry you for money?"
A dash of amusement crossed his face.
"Direct huh. I like that."
He leaned back in his chair. Tell me why I should pick you?"
My mind went blank, the other women probably had rehearsed speeches about charm and class. I had nothing.
"Honestly?, you shouldn't."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I don't belong in your world. I don't have the right clothes, I don't have the right attitude or the right smile. But I need the money, not for vacations or shopping. But for my mother. She's dying, and I can't afford to lose her." My voice cracked and I hated that it did.
"But if you want someone who'll follow rules and keep secrets, I can do that. I don't want attention, l just want to save my mother."
Silence.
Then he stood up slowly circling the desk. Then he stepped behind me, I could feel his presence like static.
"Every woman who came in here told me what they thought I wanted to hear," he said finally. "You're not the type I expected."
"I can leave." I said quickly, trying to stand.
"Sit down." The command was sharp but soft.
I froze.
His gaze met mine again, colder this time. "You're rough around the edges, but you can be fixed."
He closed the folder. "You'll start Monday. My assistant will send you the contract."
I blinked. "Wait-what?"
"You got the position, miss Rivera. Congratulations."
I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry. When I stepped out of the room the other women were still waiting. One looked up with great irritation.
"Guess we're done here," the woman in white suit said as she escorted me out.
Outside, the sunlight felt too bright, I realized I'd just agreed to marry a stranger.
I got in the train to work, thinking about how my life is going to be married to a stranger. People brushed past me living their normal lives and I wanted to scream at them—don't you see what I just did?
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number"
"Monday . 9 a.m. sharp. Don't be late"
Attached was a location and two simple words: Adrian's residence.