Sophie screams for a full thirty seconds.
"He proposed? Alexander Kane PROPOSED?" She's pacing Mia's tiny apartment like a caged tiger, waving the contract papers like they might catch fire. "This is insane. This is absolutely insane."
"I know." Mia sits on her bed, knees pulled to her chest. She's been staring at the contract for two days, reading it so many times the words blur together. "That's why I need your help."
"My help? Mia, I can't—this is—" Sophie stops, takes a breath. "Okay. Okay. Walk me through this again. He wants to marry you. For two years. With a contract."
"With an exit clause. And five million dollars if I leave."
"FIVE MILLION—" Sophie's voice cracks. She sits down heavily. "I need wine. Can you drink wine?"
"I'm pregnant."
"Right. Stupid question." Sophie presses her palms to her eyes. "Let me get this straight. You tell him you're pregnant. And instead of running or denying it or offering you hush money, he proposes marriage with a multi-million dollar safety net?"
"Basically."
"And you're considering saying no because...?"
"Because it's not real, Sophie." Mia's voice breaks. "It's a business arrangement. A contract marriage to solve a problem. He doesn't love me. I don't love him. We barely know each other."
"But you could get to know each other."
"Or we could spend two years pretending and end up miserable." Mia stands, restless. "His parents had a terrible marriage. His father was abusive. His mother stayed for money and status. He literally grew up watching marriage destroy people. Now he wants to recreate that with me?"
"Or," Sophie says gently, "he's trying not to recreate that. He's being honest about what he can offer. No lies about love, no false promises. Just clear terms and an exit strategy if it doesn't work."
"That's not romance. That's a business deal."
"So? You know what is romantic? A man who finds out he's going to be a father and immediately steps up. Who offers security and protection instead of running away. Who gives you the power to leave with dignity and financial independence." Sophie grabs Mia's hands. "Honey, I love you. But right now you're three months pregnant, about to lose your apartment, working two jobs that are killing you, and going to a free clinic. This man is offering you a way out."
"I don't want to be rescued."
"It's not about being rescued. It's about being smart." Sophie squeezes her hands. "You've been surviving on your own since you were eighteen. You've fought for everything you have. But now it's not just you anymore. You have a baby to think about."
The baby. Always the baby. The tiny life growing inside her that deserves more than Mia's stubborn pride can provide.
"What if I sign the contract and hate it?" Mia whispers. "What if I can't do it—living in his world, pretending to be his wife, playing a role?"
"Then in two years, you leave. With five million dollars and full custody of your child. You'll never have to worry about money again. You can paint full-time. Give your kid the childhood you never had." Sophie's eyes are serious. "Or you stay. And maybe, just maybe, something real develops."
"You think that's possible?"
"I think you won't know unless you try."
Mia wants to argue. Wants to insist she can do this alone, that she doesn't need Alexander Kane's money or protection or contract. But she's so tired. Tired of struggling, tired of barely surviving, tired of being afraid.
"I need to talk to him," Mia says finally. "I have questions. Things that aren't in the contract."
"Like what?"
"Like what happens if we hate each other. What if his family hates me. What about my art—can I still paint? Will I be expected to attend events, play the society wife?" Mia's voice rises. "What if he meets someone he actually loves? What if I do? The contract doesn't cover feelings, Sophie. It can't."
"Then ask him. All of it. Before you sign anything." Sophie pulls out her phone. "Call him now."
"Now?"
"Yes, now. Before you talk yourself out of this."
Mia's fingers tremble as she pulls out Alexander's card, dials the number. He answers on the second ring.
"Mia." His voice is cautious. Hopeful. "Have you decided?"
"I have questions. A lot of questions."
"Okay. Do you want to meet? I can come to you, or—"
"Come here. To my apartment. I want you to see where I actually live before you ask me to move into your tower."
There's a pause. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."
He's there in twenty.
---
Alexander Kane looks absurd in Mia's apartment.
Too tall for the low ceiling. Too polished for the peeling paint. Too everything for her tiny studio with its secondhand furniture and water stains on the wall. He stands in the middle of the room, taking it all in—the hotplate she uses as a stove, the bathtub in the kitchen, the fire escape she uses as extra storage.
"You've been living here," he says quietly. "While pregnant."
"It's not that bad."
"Mia. There's mold on the ceiling."
"Just a little mold. Builds character." But even she can't make the joke land. This place is terrible. She's just used to terrible.
Sophie, bless her, makes an excuse about meeting James and leaves them alone.
Alexander sits on Mia's bed—the only real seating besides a wobbly chair. He still looks ridiculous, like a prince in a peasant's cottage. Mia stays standing, arms crossed.
"You said you have questions," Alexander prompts.
"A lot of questions." Mia takes a breath. "First—what happens if we can't stand each other? If we're miserable? Do we really have to wait two years?"
"The contract specifies two years for stability. For the baby. But if it's truly unbearable, we can renegotiate." His eyes are serious. "I'm not trying to trap you, Mia. I'm trying to build something stable."
"Okay. Next question—your family. Your mother. Will they accept me? Because those articles made it pretty clear I'm not exactly society material."
"My mother will fall in line. She always does." His jaw tightens. "And if she doesn't, that's her problem, not yours. You'll be my wife. That makes you family."
"What about Victoria?"
"Victoria is irrelevant. I've made that clear to her." He hesitates. "We were never serious. It was always more about family expectations than actual feelings. She knew that. Everyone knew that."
"Did you love her?"
The question is bold. Too personal for a business arrangement. But Mia needs to know.
"No," Alexander says simply. "I respected her. She was intelligent, well-connected, appropriate. But love? No. I don't think I'm capable of that."
The honesty hurts. "What about me? What am I to you?"
"The mother of my child." He meets her eyes. "The woman who saw me as a person, not a bank account. The first person in years who made me feel something other than numb."
"That's not enough to build a marriage on."
"Maybe not. But it's more than most society marriages start with." He stands, moving closer. "I'm not promising you love, Mia. I don't know if I can give you that. But I can promise respect. Partnership. Security. And the space to become whatever you want to be."
"I want to keep painting."
"Then paint. I'll set up a studio for you. Buy whatever supplies you need. Hell, I'll buy you a gallery if you want one."
"I don't want you to buy me things. I want..." Mia struggles for words. "I want to matter. Not as an obligation or a problem to solve. As a person."
"You do matter." His voice drops. "That night at the wedding—I wasn't supposed to be there. I almost didn't go. But then I saw you, and you looked so out of place and uncomfortable in that bridesmaid dress, and when you laughed at something your friend said, it was the most genuine thing I'd heard in years." He swallows. "I wanted to know you. And now I'm getting that chance, even if the circumstances are complicated."
Mia's throat tightens. "What if you meet someone else? What if I do? The contract doesn't mention dating or relationships or—"
"We'll be married. Publicly, that means monogamy. Privately..." He hesitates. "I won't ask you to love me, Mia. But I will ask you not to humiliate me. If you meet someone else, we'll handle it discreetly. Renegotiate the terms. I won't trap you in a loveless marriage like my mother was trapped."
"And if you meet someone?"
"Then I'll be honest with you. And we'll figure it out together." His eyes search hers. "I'm not my father. I won't lie or cheat or make you feel small. That's one promise I can make."
Mia believes him. Which is either the smartest or stupidest thing she's ever felt.
"I have one more question," she says softly. "Why me? Really. You could have any woman. Someone from your world, who understands the rules, who wouldn't need a contract to know how to be a billionaire's wife. Why choose me?"
Alexander is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is raw.
"Because everyone else wants Alexander Kane, the CEO. The fortune. The status. You just wanted the man who couldn't sleep and found you on a balcony." He steps closer. "Because you didn't call me back, even when you could have demanded anything. Because you're terrified right now but you're still standing here, asking the hard questions instead of just taking the easy money." His hand hovers near her cheek but doesn't touch. "Because when I'm with you, I feel like maybe I could be more than what my father made me. Maybe I could be someone worth knowing."
The vulnerability in his words undoes her.
"I'm scared," Mia admits.
"Me too."
"What if we mess this up? What if we damage each other?"
"Then we'll have tried. That's more than most people in our positions would do." He finally touches her—just his fingertips against her jaw, impossibly gentle. "I can't promise this will work. But I can promise I'll try. Every day, I'll try."
Mia closes her eyes, leaning into the touch. It would be so easy to say no. To walk away, keep her independence, raise this baby alone like she's done everything else alone. Safe. Predictable.
But safety hasn't given her much. And her baby deserves a chance at more.
"Okay," she whispers.
Alexander's hand stills. "Okay?"
"I'll marry you. I'll sign the contract." She opens her eyes, meets his stunned gaze. "But I have conditions. Additions to the contract."
"Anything."
"I want my own space. In the penthouse, somewhere I can paint and have privacy. I want to keep seeing Sophie—she's my family. I want honesty between us, even when it's hard. And I want..." She swallows. "I want the option to fall in love. Maybe not with you, maybe not with anyone. But I don't want to close that door just because we're in a contract."
"Done." Alexander's thumb brushes her cheekbone. "All of it. I'll have the amendments added."
"When?"
"Tomorrow. We can sign tomorrow, if you're ready." He pauses. "Unless you want a real proposal? Ring, flowers, the whole thing?"
"This isn't that kind of marriage."
"It could be."
The possibility hangs between them. But Mia's not ready for possibilities. She's barely ready for certainties.
"Let's start with the contract," she says. "We can figure out the rest later."
Alexander nods. "Tomorrow, then. My lawyer's office, ten AM?"
"I'll be there."
He leaves with one last look around her apartment—cataloging, maybe, what her life has been so he understands what he's asking her to leave behind.
After he's gone, Mia sits on her bed and lets herself cry. For the life she's leaving, for the terrifying unknown ahead, for the tiny life inside her that's changing everything.
Sophie texts: *Did you say yes?*
Mia types back: *I said yes.*
*OMG. Are you okay?*
Mia looks around her shabby apartment. At the paintings she's poured her heart into, the small life she's built from nothing. In twenty-four hours, this won't be her reality anymore.
She'll be Mrs. Alexander Kane.
The thought is terrifying.
But her hand drifts to her stomach, to the baby growing there, and she thinks maybe—just maybe—she's making the right choice.
*I'm okay,* she texts back. *I think I'm okay.*
It's not quite a lie.