If you enjoyed this chapter, please add the book to your library and vote ❤️. Your support keeps me motivated!
Aarohi stood frozen as the door closed behind her.
The office was silent—too silent.
The man in front of her didn't offer a seat. He didn't even look angry. That was worse.
"Sit," he said calmly.
She swallowed and sat, clutching her bag like a shield.
"You know why you're here?" he asked, finally lifting his eyes.
Dark. Sharp. Calculating.
"No," she replied honestly. "Your assistant said it was urgent."
A faint smile touched his lips—but there was no warmth in it.
"I'm offering you a solution," he said, sliding a file across the desk. "And you don't have the luxury to refuse."
Aarohi frowned. "You don't even know me."
"Oh, I do," he replied. "Aarohi Sen. Twenty-two. Final-year student. Father in debt. Hospital bills unpaid. Loan sharks knocking at your door."
Her breath hitched.
"How—"
"Details don't matter," he cut in. "What matters is this contract."
She opened the file with trembling hands.
Her eyes widened.
CONTRACT MARRIAGE AGREEMENT.
Her heart dropped.
"You're insane," she whispered.
"Read," he said coldly.
The terms were clear. Brutal.
A one-year marriage. No love. No emotions. No interference in each other's personal lives. Public appearances only. Confidentiality absolute.
And the amount he was offering…
It could clear every debt. Pay for her father's surgery. Give her family a future.
"This is blackmail," she said, her voice shaking.
"No," he corrected. "This is business."
She stood up. "I won't sell myself."
He stood too, towering over her.
"You won't," he said quietly. "You'll save your family."
Silence crashed between them.
"Why me?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable.
"Because I need a wife," he said. "And you need money."
She laughed bitterly. "That's it?"
"That's everything."
Her phone buzzed.
Hospital number.
Her hands trembled as she answered.
"Yes… I understand… thank you, doctor."
The call ended.
Her shoulders sagged.
He didn't ask. He already knew.
She looked at the contract again.
One year.
Just one year.
Slowly, painfully, she picked up the pen.
"If I agree," she said, "there will be rules. I won't be treated like a servant."
A pause.
Then—he nodded.
"Agreed."
"And after one year," she added, meeting his gaze, "we walk away like strangers."
His lips curved into a dangerous smile.
"Trust me," he said. "We'll never be strangers."
Her pen hovered for one last second.
Then—
She signed.
The deal was done.
Neither of them noticed the storm they had just unleashed.
