The rain hadn't stopped since Lisa left Bruce Enterprises. It was as if the universe itself mocked her, drenching her every time she stepped outside, soaking her shoes until they squelched with every step.
By Thursday evening, she couldn't take it anymore. The unpaid bills stacked on the table stared back at her like silent accusations. Her father's coughing grew worse each night, rattling through their small apartment. And Mia had come home from school that afternoon in tears. Her exam registration deadline was tomorrow. If the fees weren't paid, she'd lose the chance to graduate.
Lisa sat at the edge of her bed, the phone clutched tightly in her hand, staring at Will Bruce's message. You have until Friday to decide. Don't keep me waiting.
Her pride screamed no. Every cell in her body resisted the idea of tying her life to a man who looked at her like she was a pawn in his empire. But her heart, her fragile, desperate, tired heart, knew she didn't have the luxury of saying no.
With trembling fingers, she typed two words:
Lisa: I accept.
Her chest tightened as soon as she hit send. The message showed "delivered," then "seen," and for a moment, the world held its breath.
Then came his reply.
Will Bruce: Good. Be at my office tomorrow, 10 a.m. sharp. Don't be late.
No smile. No warmth. Just business.
⸻
The next morning, Lisa wore her best blouse and skirt—the same outfit she'd worn to her interview weeks ago. It was all she had that felt remotely professional. She arrived at Bruce Enterprises ten minutes early, heart pounding so loudly she was sure the receptionist could hear it.
When the elevator doors opened to the top floor, Will was already waiting. He looked devastatingly sharp in a charcoal suit, his tie perfectly knotted, his hair slicked back in a way that emphasized the ruthless angles of his face. He didn't smile when he saw her.
"Follow me," he said simply, turning on his heel.
Lisa's heels clicked nervously against the marble as she followed him into his office. A sleek folder sat on his desk, black leather with silver edges. She didn't have to guess what it was.
Will picked it up and held it out to her. "This is our contract. Read it."
Her hands shook as she flipped through the pages. Her name was written next to his in bold type: Lisa Carpenter and William Bruce. Her throat tightened. This wasn't a joke. This wasn't a dream. It was her life being rewritten in ink and legal jargon.
The terms were cold, almost mechanical:
• She would act as his wife in public and private for a minimum of one year.
• She would attend business events, charity galas, and board meetings as Mrs. Bruce.
• She would not disclose personal or financial details of the arrangement.
• In return, her family's expenses would be fully covered. Her father's medical bills, Mia's tuition, and her mother's debt—all of it.
Lisa blinked, a tear threatening to slip. For her family, this paper was salvation. For her, it was a prison.
"Sign it," Will said, his tone clipped.
She looked up at him, searching his face for some trace of humanity. "You make it sound so simple. Like it's just ink on paper. But this is my life."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. A shadow of hesitation. But then it was gone, replaced by the cold mask he always wore.
"You came to me, Lisa. You begged for help. This is my price."
Her jaw clenched. "And what do you get out of this, besides your precious company?"
His lips curved into that infuriating half-smirk. "Revenge. And a wife who doesn't bore me."
The words cut deep, but her hand still moved. With trembling fingers, she picked up the pen. Her name slid across the paper in shaky strokes, binding her to him.
When she was done, Will took the pen and signed with swift, confident letters. William Bruce. Powerful. Untouchable.
"It's done," he said, snapping the folder shut. "You're mine now."
Her heart skipped painfully. She wanted to argue, to tell him she wasn't his property. But the truth was undeniable, she had just agreed to be his wife, if only in name.
Will walked closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. He tilted her chin up with two fingers, forcing her eyes to meet his. His touch was firm, almost commanding, and yet… her skin tingled beneath it.
"There will be no mistakes this time, Lisa," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "You'll do exactly as I say. And in return, I'll make sure your family never suffers again. Understand?"
Her breath caught. She hated him. She hated the arrogance in his tone, the cruel satisfaction in his eyes. And yet, for one insane heartbeat, she couldn't ignore the way her pulse raced with his fingers still on her skin.
"Yes," she whispered.
Will's smirk deepened, though his eyes darkened in a way she couldn't quite decipher. "Good girl."
And just like that, her fate was sealed.
Lisa Carpenter was now Lisa Bruce. At least on paper. And no matter how much she tried to convince herself this was just business, a part of her knew: nothing about Will Bruce would ever be simple.