Xavier didn't move. He felt like a ghost in this room of glass and gold.
"You're soaking wet," Seraphina said, her voice cool and detached. She didn't look up from her screen, but her hand reached for a sleek, silver intercom. "Don't drip on the mahogany. It's worth more than your life."
Xavier's jaw tightened. "I didn't come here to be insulted, Seraphina. I came because you said you had a solution to the debt my family is drowning in."
Finally, she looked up. Her eyes were a piercing, icy blue—beautiful, but without a trace of warmth. She slid a thick, leather-bound folder across the massive desk. It landed with a heavy thud that echoed in the silent room.
"I don't give away money, Xavier. I make investments," she murmured. "Open it. If you sign, your debts vanish tonight. If you don't, you can walk back out into the rain and lose everything you have left."
Xavier reached out with a trembling hand and opened the folder. The words at the top made his breath hitch in his throat: MARRIAGE CONTRACT.