Elena Morgan clutched the hospital bill in her trembling hands. Her brother, Daniel, lay pale and weak on the bed, hooked up to machines that beeped incessantly.
"How am I going to pay for this?" she whispered, her voice cracking. The numbers on the paper blurred before her eyes. She had tried everything—loans, crowdfunding, even pawning her few valuables—but it still wasn't enough.
A sharp knock at the door startled her.
"Ms. Morgan?" A deep, commanding voice called.
Elena turned to see a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit standing in the doorway. His hair was dark, eyes piercing, and his expression… unreadable.
"I am Alexander King," he said, his voice calm but cold. "I hear you need money."
Elena froze. "I… I don't know what you mean."
He stepped inside without waiting for permission. His presence filled the room, cold yet magnetic.
"I can cover all your expenses," Alexander said, placing a business card on the table. "But there's one condition."
Elena's heart skipped a beat. She had hoped for a miracle, not a catch. "Condition?"
"You will marry me," he said plainly.
The words hit her like a thunderclap. She stared at him, mouth dry, mind spinning. "Excuse me?"
"I'm offering a contract marriage," Alexander continued, his expression as calm as ever. "One year. You agree, I pay for your brother's surgery. You refuse… he dies."
Elena's knees almost gave out. It felt impossible. How could she agree to marry a man she barely knew? A man who looked like he could crush her with a single glance?
Yet… the life of her brother hung in the balance.
"I—I…" Her voice trembled. Tears pricked her eyes. "I have no choice, do I?"
Alexander didn't answer immediately. He simply stared at her, as if measuring the weight of her soul. Finally, he nodded once.
"You don't. Sign the contract tomorrow. Be ready."
Elena swallowed hard, her heart pounding with fear, desperation, and a strange spark of curiosity about the man she was about to marry.
As he turned and left the room, she whispered to herself, "What have I gotten myself into?"
Elena sank into the chair beside her brother's bed, the business card clutched tightly in her hand. Alexander King. Even the name sounded like it belonged to someone from a world far removed from hers—a world she had never been invited into. Her hands shook, but not from cold; it was fear, desperation, and disbelief tangled together in a knot she couldn't undo.
Daniel's shallow breathing filled the room, each beep of the heart monitor echoing like a countdown. She felt tears sting her eyes again, but she refused to let them fall. She had to think clearly, had to… had to find a solution. Yet the solution sitting in front of her was unthinkable. Marry a man she didn't know. Marry a man who radiated authority and control, whose eyes seemed to strip her bare the moment they met.
Her mind screamed at her, This is insane. You can't do this. And yet, there was a quieter, desperate voice buried beneath the panic: But Daniel will die if you don't.
Elena's fingers traced the smooth edges of the business card. One year. A contract marriage. The words sounded clinical, almost like a legal document was all that separated her from a lifetime of regret—or from saving her brother.
She forced herself to stand, pacing the small room. Each step echoed against the sterile hospital walls. She imagined Alexander sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, cold and unyielding, drafting terms with a pen that might as well be dipped in ice. What if he demanded more than she could bear? What if… she hated him? What if she failed to live up to some expectation she didn't even know existed?
The door opened suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts. A nurse poked her head in.
"Ms. Morgan, Daniel's vitals are stable for now. He's resting," the nurse said gently. "You should get some sleep too."
Elena nodded, though sleep felt like a luxury she couldn't afford. Her eyes fell again on her brother, pale and fragile beneath the sheets. She felt a tightening in her chest, a weight so heavy it threatened to crush her.
"I'll do it," she whispered to herself, voice barely audible. "I'll do it for him."
Her mind whirled with questions—practical, terrifying, and personal. How would she even meet Alexander King tomorrow? What would she say? Could she even go through with the ceremony without breaking down? And yet, despite the fear gnawing at her, there was a strange, unbidden curiosity about him. He had an aura of command that made it impossible to look away, a presence that left her both intimidated and… intrigued.
Night fell quietly over the city, and Elena finally allowed herself to sit beside Daniel's bed, holding his hand. She whispered promises to him that felt too big for her to keep, promises that only her love could fuel: I'll do everything. I'll save you. I promise. The machines beeped steadily, a reminder that time was slipping away.
By the time she left the hospital, the city streets were empty and slick from an evening rain. Her umbrella offered little protection from the storm of thoughts in her mind. Every shadow seemed to stretch longer, every honking car sounded louder, as if the world itself were aware of the impossible choice she was about to make.
When she returned to her small apartment, she barely noticed the chill. She didn't bother changing out of her damp clothes. Instead, she sat at her kitchen table, staring at the contract she imagined Alexander would present. One year. One year of pretending, of living with a man she didn't know, of wearing a mask she had never worn before…
Her phone buzzed, startling her. A message from her best friend, Lily: How's Daniel? Elena's fingers hovered over the keyboard. Could she explain this? Could she even begin to explain that the only way her brother would survive was to marry a man whose name alone felt like a warning?
She typed back slowly, her hands trembling: He's stable. I… I'll tell you everything tomorrow.
After sending the message, Elena leaned back, exhaustion finally washing over her. She hadn't eaten, hadn't slept properly in days, yet the thought of tomorrow kept her rigid with tension. The idea of meeting Alexander King, the man who could control her brother's fate with a signature, made her stomach churn.
And somewhere deep in her chest, a spark of defiance flickered. I won't let him control everything. I'll survive this. I'll survive him.
Yet as she closed her eyes that night, she couldn't shake the image of Alexander King's cold, piercing gaze, and the words that had shaken her to her core: "You don't. Sign the contract tomorrow. Be ready."
Sleep came fitfully, haunted by dreams of sterile hospital rooms, unreadable contracts, and the man whose very presence seemed to command obedience. And when she woke, her decision was set. She would marry him, if only to save her brother. But deep down, she knew that nothing about this marriage would be simple, and nothing about Alexander King was what he seemed.
Tomorrow would change everything.