The elevator hummed as it climbed higher and higher into the Manhattan sky, carrying Elena toward the top floor of Knight Global.
Her stomach churned. She told herself it was just irritation, not nerves. But when the doors slid open onto the penthouse level—polished marble floors, chrome finishes gleaming like a spaceship—she knew she was stepping into enemy territory.
Alexander Knight's office was infamous.
Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a dizzying view of the city, skyscrapers bowing beneath the height of this glass fortress. The desk was sleek and black, perfectly centered, like a throne disguised as furniture.
And behind it sat Alexander.
He didn't stand to greet her. He didn't even glance up immediately. He typed something on his laptop, unhurried, as though she were the one who should be grateful for the meeting.
"Miss Morgan," he finally said, his voice smooth as scotch.
"Mr. Knight," she replied, crisp as ice.
He gestured to the chair across from him. She sat, back straight, her portfolio clutched like a shield.
He studied her for a moment, his eyes cool and appraising. Then he leaned back, steepling his fingers.
"I have a business proposition for you."
Elena almost laughed. "What is it this time? You need me to design a skyscraper shaped like your ego?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "No. I need a wife."
For a heartbeat, Elena thought she'd misheard. She blinked. "I'm sorry… what?"
"I need a wife," he repeated calmly, as though discussing the weather. "And you're going to be her."
Elena stared at him, stunned into silence. Then a sharp laugh escaped her lips.
"You've finally lost your mind."
His expression didn't flicker. "On the contrary. I've never been more serious."
She set her portfolio down on the desk with a snap. "You've spent the last six months making my life a nightmare, and now you think I'd marry you?"
"Yes," he said simply.
She gaped at him. "Why me? You could have your pick of supermodels, socialites, Hollywood actresses. Women who actually like you."
"Exactly," he replied smoothly. "They like me too much. They'd expect something in return—romance, affection, permanence. You, on the other hand, despise me. Which makes you… safe."
"Safe," she repeated, incredulous.
He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "I'm under pressure. My late father's will contains a clause: I must be married to assume full control of Knight Global. Without that, the board has leverage. I won't allow it. I need someone convincing enough to play the role for one year. After that, we part ways."
Elena shook her head, torn between disbelief and outrage. "So this is just a… business arrangement?"
"Exactly."
"And what do I get out of this absurd little charade?"
"Name your price."
Her retort froze on her tongue. She thought of her sister, Lily. Sweet, stubborn Lily, who had been in and out of the hospital for years. The medical bills piled higher every month. Elena had taken on extra work, sold possessions, skipped meals—but it was never enough.
Alexander must have noticed the flicker in her expression, because his voice softened, just a fraction.
"I'll pay off your sister's hospital debt. All of it. And I'll ensure you never struggle again. One year, Miss Morgan. Just one year of playing my wife, and you'll be free."
Her heart twisted painfully. The temptation was too sharp, too real.
Still, she lifted her chin, forcing steel into her voice. "You think I'd sell myself to you? That I'd throw away my dignity just to fix your boardroom problems?"
He smirked faintly. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm not asking for love. Or devotion. Just cooperation. You'd be doing both of us a favor."
Elena glared at him, every instinct screaming to walk out. But then Lily's pale face flashed through her mind—her brave smile, her whispered apologies for being a burden.
One year. Just one year.
Elena exhaled slowly, her pulse racing. "If I agree to this insanity, I want everything in writing. Every detail. No loopholes."
Alexander's eyes gleamed with triumph. He extended his hand across the desk.
"Then we have a deal, Mrs. Knight."
Elena stared at that hand—the hand of the man she despised more than anyone—and knew her life was about to change forever.