Finally, she found her voice. "Wait—hold on. How do you even know about my family's debts? That's personal and Private. You can't just… sit there and throw it in my face like you've lived our life." For a flicker of a second, something unreadable passed through his eyes. Amusement? Irritation? She couldn't tell. "I make it my business to know everything that concerns me, Miss Dawson," Alexander said coolly, his hands clasped behind his back as he circled the room like a predator at ease in his cage.
"Your father once held a modest contract under one of my subsidiaries. When his company failed, the debt was transferred and buried under a list of unpaid accounts. Most men would have overlooked it. I didn't." Elena blinked, her throat tightening. She remembered Papa's little supply company, the one he had fought to keep afloat before sickness stole his strength. Could it be true that the remnants of that failure had landed on this man's desk? "That doesn't explain why you care," she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. His eyes sharpened, those blue-gray storms locking on hers. "Because I don't like loose ends. Because everything connected to my company eventually crosses my table. And because," he paused, his tone dropping into something dangerous, "you interest me." Her heart stuttered. "Interest? I'm not some… asset you can audit. I'm a person." He tilted his head slightly, studying her as though she'd just confirmed something he already suspected. "Exactly. You're different from the women who usually circle this building. You didn't come to me looking for wealth or power. You came because you had no choice. That makes you… useful." The word burned, and yet beneath the insult was an unsettling truth. She had walked into his office out of desperation. "You're wrong," she whispered, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. Alexander stepped closer, and she felt the weight of his presence like a shadow stretching over her. "Am I? I had my people run a background check before I allowed you through these doors. I know about the medical bills, the loans, the letters stuffed under your door at night. I know that you work part-time jobs to cover tuition for your sister while keeping your father alive on nothing but hope. So don't waste my time with indignation, Miss Dawson. I know exactly who you are." Her breath caught, her cheeks burning with both shame and fury. He had stripped her bare in a few sentences, exposing all the corners of her life she had fought to keep hidden. "You had no right," she snapped, her voice louder than she intended. His expression didn't flicker. "I have the right to everything I can reach. And I always reach further than anyone else dares." Elena's nails dug into her palms. She should have walked out right then, but her legs refused to move. This man, with his ice-cold certainty and merciless logic, had twisted her world in a matter of minutes. And still, something in his tone — that deliberate, confident calculation — made her realize he wasn't finished. Not yet.
Secrets I had buried, struggles I had fought tooth and nail to keep private, all laid bare in front of me like an exhibits in a trial. Alexander Carter leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady, unblinking. "You've worked hard to keep the world from seeing this, haven't you?" I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "You have no right—" "I have every right," he interrupted smoothly, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "When you step into my office, when you step into my world, I decide what I know." The arrogance of it made me want to scream. But the truth was undeniable: he knew everything. Everything I had fought to protect. "What do you want from me?
Is humiliating me not enough?" He tilted his head slightly, regarding me as though I were a puzzle he was almost finished solving. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet. Even across the room, his presence towered over me. "Humiliation is petty. I don't waste my time with pettiness," he said. His eyes flicked to the documents again. "But leverage? That's useful. That's why you're here." "Leverage?" "Yes." He moved toward me, his footsteps measured, deliberate. "You see, Miss Dawson, we both have something the other needs. That makes this… convenient." I backed up a step, "I don't understand." "You will." His voice dropped, lower, steadier, and impossibly calm. "My board is restless. Shareholders want stability. A wife. A family. A softened image for the press. They want Alexander Carter to be more than a man with an empire — they want him to be a man with roots." He paused, watching me carefully, as though gauging every flicker of emotion across my face. My breath caught. "And what does that have to do with me?" "Everything." He let the word hang in the air, heavy, final. "Because I don't have time to search for a woman who won't try to own me, or ruin me, or sell herself for the privilege of wearing my ring. I don't have patience for games, for false smiles, for greed wrapped in lace.
You…" He gestured toward the bills on the desk. "…you don't want me. You want freedom. You want your family's survival. That makes you perfect." The room spun. My chest rose and fell too fast, like I couldn't get enough air. "You can't possibly mean—" "I do." He cut me off, his eyes locked on mine, leaving no room for doubt. "I want you to marry me." The words crashed into me like a wave, knocking the breath out of my lungs. I laughed, though it came out shaky, hollow. "This is insane. You don't even know me I mumured
"I know enough," he replied coolly. "I know you're desperate, I know you're honest, and I know you're capable of keeping up appearances. That's all that matters." My stomach twisted. "Appearances? So this is… what? A show?" "Call it a contract," Alexander said, his tone sharp, precise. "You will be Mrs. Carter for the public eye. In return, I will erase every single debt you and your family owe. Your father's treatment, your sister's schooling, your home — saved. You get freedom. I get compliance." My heart slammed against my ribs, hard enough to hurt. "You can't just—this isn't marriage. This is—this is a deal with the devil." His mouth curved, faintly, almost cruelly. "Then consider me the devil who holds the keys to your salvation." I staggered back, shaking my head. "No. No, I can't. I won't." "You will," Alexander said calmly, as if my refusal were just another predictable move on a chessboard he'd already mastered. "Because you don't have any other option. Not one that doesn't leave you drowning." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, hot and angry. "Why me?" I whispered, the question slipping out before I could stop it. "Out of everyone in this city, why me?" His expression shifted, the slightest flicker of something human passing across his features. "Because you don't want me," he said simply. The words landed heavy, confusing, but true. He stepped closer again, close enough that I had to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. "You don't look at me and see a prize. You don't look at me and see a future you can manipulate. You look at me and see a man you'd rather avoid. That makes you dangerous, Miss Dawson. And that makes you exactly what I need." My breath caught in my throat. Dangerous. To him. I didn't know whether to feel flattered or terrified. "You have seventy-two hours," he said finally, his tone dismissive now, as though the conversation were already concluded. "Three days to decide whether you want to save your family or let them collapse under the weight of reality. Choose carefully." He turned his back, moving toward the wide glass windows overlooking the skyline, his hands clasped behind him like a king surveying his kingdom. I stood frozen, my pulse roaring in my ears, the walls of the office closing in around me. Three days. Three days to decide whether to sell my soul to Alexander Carter — or watch everything I loved fall apart. And for the first time in my life, I didn't know which choice terrified me more.