The rain came down in silver sheets, painting the night sky with a relentless rhythm. New York never slept, not even in a storm. Lights shimmered through the downpour, reflecting off the sleek glass of Wolfe Tower the twenty-eight-story monument of power that bore the name of one of the most ruthless billionaires in the city.
Elena Brooks stood at the entrance, soaked and trembling, clutching her worn handbag against her chest. Her umbrella had given up three blocks ago, and her heart felt like it was about to do the same. She had replayed this moment in her head a hundred times what she would say, how she would stand, how she wouldn't let herself cry in front of him. But now, facing the towering building, all her courage felt small.
She inhaled shakily. "You can do this," she whispered to herself, stepping inside.
The marble lobby was all glass, gold, and silence. Every step she took echoed off the polished floors. The receptionist didn't need to ask who she was. One look at her nervous face and the woman simply said, "Mr. Wolfe is expecting you. Top floor."
The elevator ride felt endless. With each floor she ascended, Elena's chest tightened. She thought about her company the one her late mother had built from scratch, Brooks Interiors and how everything had spiraled after her death. Contracts were lost, clients withdrew, and debts piled higher than she could manage.
She needed help.
But not from him.
When the elevator doors opened, a woman with sharp red lipstick and an expression like polished ice was waiting. "Miss Brooks. Follow me."
Elena followed her down a long hallway. The air smelled faintly of expensive cologne and something colder, like control. At the end stood a tall glass door etched with his name: ADRIAN WOLFE, CEO.
The assistant opened it without knocking. "She's here, sir."
Inside, the office looked like something out of a billionaire's fantasy, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the glittering skyline, shelves lined with books no one probably read, and a desk large enough to hold her entire studio apartment.
And there he was.
Adrian Wolfe.
He sat behind the desk, sleeves rolled up, wristwatch gleaming under the soft white lights. His dark hair was perfectly tousled, and the sharpness of his features made him look both dangerous and devastatingly refined. He didn't look up immediately just signed a few papers, calm and unhurried, as though her presence didn't matter.
When he finally lifted his gaze, it was like a blade cutting through still air. His eyes were a storm, cool gray, unreadable.
"You're late," he said, voice low and smooth, with that kind of authority that made people stand straighter without realizing it.
"I....it's the rain," she stammered. "Traffic was terrible and..."
"I didn't ask for an explanation."
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She wanted to snap back, but something about his stare made the words die on her tongue.
"Sit."
She obeyed before she even realized it.
He leaned back, studying her like he was evaluating a potential investment. "Your company," he began, his tone clipped, "is barely breathing. You've missed three payments to your investors, two of your designers quit last month, and your suppliers have stopped delivering materials until you clear their balances. Am I missing anything?"
Her throat tightened. "You've done your homework."
"I always do."
"Then you know I came to request a loan extension, not...."
He cut her off with a small gesture of his hand. "Miss Brooks, I don't give loans to people who can't repay them. I make offers."
She frowned. "Offers?"
Adrian stood, his height making the room feel smaller. "I can erase every cent of your debt within the hour. Your company, your studio, your mother's legacy all saved."
Elena blinked. "What?"
He walked to the window, hands in his pockets. Rain streaked the glass behind him, city lights blurring into color. "In exchange," he said quietly, "you'll marry me."
For a heartbeat, the world stopped moving. Then she burst into laughter, cracking so hard, but then, she stared at him, trying to understand if he was joking. But there was no hint of humor on his face. No smirk. No smile. Just absolute seriousness.
"Marry you?" she repeated. "You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious in my life."
Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood. "Is this a joke? Some kind of game?"
Adrian turned to face her. His expression didn't change. "Do I look like a man who plays games?"
"You look like a man who has lost his mind!"
For a moment, something flickered behind his eyes pain, maybe. Or guilt. But it vanished before she could name it.
"Sit down," he said again, his tone quieter now but no less commanding. "And listen before you decide I'm insane."
Against her better judgment, she sat.
Adrian rested his palms on the desk. "I need a wife temporarily. Six months. Strictly business. You'll be compensated. I'll pay off your debts, secure your contracts, and give you enough money to start fresh when it's over."
Elena let out a shaky laugh. "You're proposing a fake marriage? You want me to play your wife?"
"Not play," he corrected. "Be."
Her stomach turned. "Why me?"
"Because," he said, voice even, "you're perfect for what I need. You're clean. No scandals. No family ties. No one who would suspect anything unusual."
"So I'm just convenient."
He tilted his head slightly. "You could say that."
Her hands clenched into fists. "You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
"Then tell me why," she snapped. "Why do you need a wife so badly that you'd throw money at a stranger?"
He paused, gaze dropping briefly to the floor before he looked back up. "Because my father's will demands it."
Her breath caught. "Your father's… will?"
"Yes. To maintain full control of Wolfe Corporation, I must be married by the end of this quarter. Otherwise, my board will appoint a successor someone I'd rather not hand over everything I've built to."
"So I'm just your way out."
"I'm offering you a lifeline. Don't confuse the two."
Elena's pulse pounded in her ears. "You can't buy people, Mr. Wolfe."
"Everything can be bought," he said simply. "Including time."
She stood again, shaking her head. "This is insane. I came here for help, not to sell my life."
He didn't stop her as she moved toward the door. "Think about it," he said calmly. "The offer expires tomorrow at noon."
Elena froze, her hand on the doorknob.
"You'll have the contract by morning," he added. "Read it. Then decide whether your pride is worth losing everything your mother built."
Her throat tightened painfully. "You're cruel."
"Cruel," Adrian murmured, "is just another word for honest."
She didn't reply. She just left.
***
Later That Night
Elena sat on her small couch, still in her damp clothes, staring blankly at the rain sliding down her window. Her phone buzzed nonstop messages from creditors, missed calls from her team, a gentle "you okay?" from her best friend, Mia.
She ignored them all.
The scene kept replaying in her mind his voice, his cold stare, the ridiculous words: Marry me.
Her laugh came out broken. "He's insane," she whispered, dragging her hands through her hair. "A complete psychopath."
But then her eyes fell on the stack of unpaid bills scattered across her coffee table. Her company's logo stared back at her like an accusation.
How much longer could she hold out?
Her mother's dream the company she'd built from nothing was hanging by a thread. One more week and it would all vanish.
Tears stung her eyes. "What am I supposed to do, Mom?" she whispered.
Her phone buzzed again. A new email.
From: Adrian Wolfe
Subject: Contract Proposal
Her heart skipped. She hesitated, then opened it.
It was real. Detailed. Professional. Cold.
Everything he'd promised debts cleared, financial protection, confidentiality.
"The marriage shall remain legally binding for a minimum of six months. Emotional involvement is strictly prohibited. Breach of confidentiality will result in legal consequences."
Elena stared at the words until they blurred, emotional involvement prohibited. He was really treating this like a business deal. Like she was a product. She slammed her laptop shut. "What kind of man is he?"
**********
Across Town Adrian's Penthouse
Adrian stood by his window, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the storm tear through the night. His reflection stared back at him hard, unreadable, haunted.
"She'll say no," his assistant's voice came from behind.
"She'll say yes," he replied quietly.
"Why her?"
He didn't answer. His eyes dropped to a small framed photo on his desk a woman's smile frozen in time. A memory he'd buried years ago.
"Because she reminds me of someone I once knew," he finally said. His voice was softer now, almost broken. "And because she doesn't know what I did."
He set down his glass, jaw tightening. "This is the only way to make things right."
The assistant frowned. "You're lying to her, Adrian."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "It's just business."
But when the lightning flashed again, his reflection didn't look like a man doing business. It looked like a man preparing for war with his past, his conscience, and the woman who might uncover everything he'd spent years trying to hide.
And deep down, Adrian Wolfe knew one truth he would never say aloud:
This wasn't just a lie to protect his empire.
It was a lie to protect himself.