The rain had stopped, but the puddles on the sidewalk clung to Lena White's worn shoes as if mocking her with every step. She adjusted the thin jacket over her shoulders and held her breath as she pushed open the heavy glass doors of Blackwood Enterprises. The lobby was sleek, polished, and smelled like expensive leather and power.
She didn't belong here.
But she had no choice.
Her mother's hospital bills were piling up, and the part-time jobs weren't enough. When she received the mysterious call two days ago inviting her to an "urgent proposal" from one of the richest CEOs in the country, she thought it was a prank. But desperation made people listen.
So here she was—dripping, nervous, and completely out of place.
The elevator opened directly into a private office. A man stood by the window, tall and motionless, his back to her.
"You're late," came the deep voice, smooth but cold.
"I—I'm sorry, Mr. Blackwood. The rain and the buses—"
"I don't care about the weather or your excuses." He turned around.
Ethan Blackwood.
Every article, every magazine had shown his perfectly sculpted features and icy demeanor. But nothing prepared her for the intensity of his eyes. Grey. Stormy. Calculating.
He studied her for a long moment, then gestured to the seat opposite his desk.
"Sit."
Lena sat stiffly, clutching her bag. "May I ask why I'm here?"
"You're here because I require something," he said, opening a sleek folder. "A wife."
Lena blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I need to be married within the next seven days. My grandfather's will demands it. If I'm not married by next Monday, the board will have grounds to remove me as CEO."
Lena stared at him, utterly confused. "And… you want me to pretend to be your wife?"
"Not pretend. You'll be my legal wife. For one year."
Her voice dropped. "Why me?"
"Because you're desperate, quiet, and unconnected. You won't bring drama, and you'll do as you're told."
Lena's mouth opened in shock. "That's— You don't even know me."
"I know enough." He slid a check across the table. "One million dollars. Upfront. Enough to cover your mother's surgery, her treatments, and a new life for both of you when this ends."
Lena stared at the check like it might burn her fingers. Her heart pounded. Was this real? Or was this some kind of trap?
"I don't want your money," she said finally. "I'm not for sale."
Ethan leaned forward, eyes sharp. "This isn't about selling yourself. It's about survival. I don't need love. I need a solution. And you need a miracle."
She bit her lip, torn between pride and pain.
"If I say no?"
He stood slowly, his expression unreadable. "Then you walk out that door, back to your three jobs and your dying mother. And I find someone else. Simple."
The room was silent. The clock on the wall ticked like a countdown.
Finally, she spoke.
"I want a few conditions."
Ethan raised a brow. "Go on."
"I want full payment up front. No physical contact unless necessary. And I want out after a year—no tricks, no blackmail, no dragging this out."
He smirked slightly. "You're smarter than you look."
Lena stood, feeling her knees tremble. "So we have a deal?"
He extended his hand. "One year. No emotions. No complications."
She shook it. "No promises."