had been staring at the glowing city skyline for hours, yet I couldn't feel its beauty. My fingers trembled against the stack of bills in my lap—the unpaid hospital fees, the letters marked FINAL NOTICE in red ink. My mother's life was hanging on a thread, and I had already sold everything worth selling.
Everything but myself.
When the phone rang, I almost dropped it. The name flashing across the screen made my stomach twist.
HR Department – Knight Corporation.
I took a deep breath and answered.
"Miss Lane," the clipped voice said. "The CEO has reviewed your application. Report to the thirty-ninth floor tomorrow morning. 8 a.m. sharp."
The call ended before I could reply.
I sat frozen. I had sent dozens of desperate applications, but this one… this was Knight Corporation. The empire that had destroyed my family. The company whose icy heir, Leonard Knight, had been called ruthless, merciless—born to crush anyone in his way.
And tomorrow, I would become his secretary.
The next morning, I walked through the glass doors of Knight Tower, clutching my worn handbag like a lifeline. The marble lobby stretched endlessly, all cold white and silver, with men in tailored suits striding past me like kings. I felt like a beggar trespassing on royal ground.
But I lifted my chin. I had no choice.
"Thirty-ninth floor," the receptionist said, not bothering to hide her sneer as she eyed my scuffed shoes.
The elevator hummed as it carried me up, higher and higher, until the doors slid open to reveal a silent corridor of black glass walls. At the end, a single office gleamed like a predator's den.
I knocked, my heart hammering.
"Enter."
His voice was low, smooth, and cold.
I pushed the door open—and froze.
Leonard Knight sat behind a vast desk, his silver tie perfectly knotted, his suit cutting sharp lines against his broad shoulders. His hair was dark, slicked back with ruthless precision. But it was his eyes that stopped me—icy gray, piercing, like they could strip me bare in seconds.
He didn't rise. He didn't smile. He simply looked at me, as if I were a piece of paper he hadn't decided to shred yet.
"Arielle Lane," he said, his tone unreadable. "Daughter of Jonathan Lane. Former heiress of Lane Enterprises. Secretary applicant."
My throat tightened. He knew exactly who I was.
"Yes, Mr. Knight," I whispered.
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "You're aware your family owed us thirty million before your father's… unfortunate demise?"
The room tilted. I gripped my bag to stop my hands from shaking. "My father's company—"
"Collapsed," Leonard cut in, his voice like a blade. "Because your father was weak. And now, you're here. Applying to be my secretary."
Shame burned in my chest. But I lifted my chin. "Yes."
For a long moment, silence stretched. Then, without warning, he opened a drawer and slid a folder across the desk toward me.
"Sign it."
I frowned, confused. "My employment contract?"
His lips curved—not into a smile, but into something sharper. "Not exactly."
I pulled the folder open. The words blurred for a moment before they sharpened into focus. My breath caught.
Marriage Contract.
The room went silent except for the pounding of my heart.
"I—I don't understand," I stammered.
Leonard rose from his chair, moving toward me with slow, deliberate steps. He was taller than I expected, towering over me, his presence filling the room like ice seeping into my veins.
"You need money," he said simply. "I need a wife. It's mutually beneficial."
I stared at him. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." His gaze locked on mine, unflinching. "But you'll still sign it."
"I will never marry you," I hissed, slamming the folder shut.
Leonard leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. "Your mother's hospital is Knight-owned. Without me, her treatment stops tomorrow."
My blood ran cold.
"You wouldn't," I whispered.
His lips brushed the shell of my ear, his voice soft and merciless. "Try me."
I staggered back, clutching the folder like it was burning me. My chest rose and fell, my pride screaming, my desperation clawing.
I should walk away. I should spit in his face.
But the image of my mother lying pale and fragile in that hospital bed filled my mind, and my knees buckled.
Leonard watched me silently, like a predator waiting for its prey to break.
With trembling hands, I picked up the pen.
The ink bled onto the paper as I signed my name.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips for the first time.
"Good girl," he murmured.
And just like that, I was no longer Arielle Lane, the secretary.
I was Arielle Lane, the wife of Leonard Knight.
She leaves his office, her hands still trembling. But as the elevator doors close, she glances down at the contract again—and sees the final line she hadn't noticed before:
"The wife agrees to share the husband's home, bed, and name, until death."
Her breath catches.
What has she just signed away?