Riley barely slept that night.
She kept glancing at the business card resting on her nightstand, the weight of tomorrow's meeting pressing down on her chest. Every time her eyes closed, she saw Alexander Grant's piercing blue gaze and heard that unnerving calm in his voice.
At 10 a.m., her phone rang. It was the hospital.
"Miss Bennett, regarding your mother's surgery expenses..."The nurse's voice was weary.
"I know," Riley interrupted. "I'm working on it. Please... give me one more day."
"The doctor says we can't delay any longer. If the surgery isn't scheduled by the end of today—"
She hung up. Her hands were trembling. Time was slipping away, and her mother's life was hanging by a thread.
She walked to her wardrobe, scanning for something appropriate to wear. Today's meeting wasn't just a conversation—it was possibly the most important negotiation of her life. She had to look composed, capable, but not overdone. In the end, she chose a deep navy suit—bought once for a job interview and never worn again.
At 2:30 p.m., Riley stood in front of the Grant Group's towering headquarters. The building's mirrored façade reflected the sun like a blade of steel, sharp and unapproachable.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
"I'm Riley Bennett. I have a three o'clock appointment with Mr. Grant."
The receptionist nodded, made a quick call, and said, "His assistant will be right down to escort you."
Moments later, a well-dressed woman in her fifties approached. "Miss Bennett? I'm Margaret, Mr. Grant's assistant. Please follow me."
The elevator stopped on the 42nd floor. The hallway was thickly carpeted and lined with abstract art and industry awards. Riley's heels made barely a sound as she walked.
"Mr. Grant is expecting you." Margaret knocked once and opened the door.
Alexander's office was even more impressive than she'd imagined. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of Manhattan. He sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his focus fixed on a document.
"Have a seat," he said without looking up, gesturing to the chair across from him.
Riley sat, trying to steady her nerves. She noticed the absence of personal items—no photos, no keepsakes, not even a pen holder. It was luxurious, yes—but cold.
"Did you think it through after last night?" Alexander asked, finally lifting his eyes to hers.
"Think what through?"
"Your proposal. Do you still think it's a good idea—sober?"
His tone stung."Mr. Grant, I wasn't joking. My mother truly needs surgery. I truly need the money."
"I know." He closed the file. "I've already had your situation looked into. Linda Bennett, age 52. Stage-four pancreatic cancer. Urgent surgery required. Estimated cost: five hundred thousand."
Riley's cheeks flushed. "You investigated me?"
"It was necessary," he said without apology. "If we're to enter a contractual arrangement, I need to know my partner's reality."
"Partner?" she repeated. "So you're seriously considering this?"
"I'm considering the possibility." He stood and walked to the window. "But, Miss Bennett, I need you to understand—this isn't a fairy tale. This is a business agreement. It comes with clear terms and boundaries."
"I understand." Her voice was steady, but her heart pounded.
"Do you?" He turned back to her. "Let me make the terms clear."
He picked up a folder.
"First, this will be a three-year contract. During this period, you will be my legal wife—but only on paper."
Riley nodded.
"Second, you'll live at my residence. Attend necessary social functions. In public, we'll appear as a happily married couple. In private, we'll keep our distance."
"Distance?" she asked.
"This will be a sexless marriage. We'll maintain our own lives, but never make them public. In essence, this is a transaction. Not a relationship."
Riley's stomach twisted, but she kept her composure."I understand."
"Additionally," he continued, "if you breach any part of the contract, you'll be responsible for repaying the full cost—including your mother's medical bills."
"Breach?" Her brow furrowed. "What does that include?"
"Disclosing the nature of our marriage to the media. Exploiting the arrangement for personal gain. Or…" He paused. "Falling in love with me."
Riley blinked. "What?"
"Emotions complicate things." His tone was neutral, cold. "If you develop real feelings, the agreement ends."
"But... if we're pretending to be in love, shouldn't it at least feel real?"
"In public—yes. In private—it's a performance." He sat back down. "Let me be clear, Miss Bennett. I am not interested in love. I need a partner, not a wife in the emotional sense."
Riley studied him. Handsome, rich, and yet… when he spoke of love, something flickered in his eyes. Pain? Regret?
"Why?" she asked softly.
"Why what?"
"Why don't you believe in love? You're twenty-seven, successful—you could have anything you want."
His expression turned colder."That's not your concern."
"But if we're getting married—even if it's fake—I should know my... partner."
He stared at her in silence. Then finally spoke."Let's put it this way, Miss Bennett. Love is a luxury. And I don't believe in luxuries."
"That sounds... sad," she murmured.
"Sad?" He gave a humorless smirk. "No. That's reality. Now—back to the agreement. Do you accept the terms?"
Riley thought of her mother, lying in a hospital bed. The debt collectors. Her empty bank account. Did she even have a choice?
"Five hundred thousand," she said. "You'll pay that upfront?"
"Once the contract is signed, the money will be transferred to the hospital immediately." He paused. "In addition, you'll receive a monthly living stipend of ten thousand."
Her eyes widened. "Ten thousand?"
"You'll need clothes, transportation, event access. High society isn't cheap." He added, "And if you fulfill the contract, there's a final compensation."
"How much?" she asked, almost afraid to know.
"One million dollars."
Riley felt light-headed. One million. Enough to secure her mother's care. Enough to finally write without compromising her dreams.
"But," Alexander added, "if you break the agreement early, you get nothing."
"I understand." Her voice shook slightly.
"One final condition," he said. "You have until tomorrow to decide."
"Tomorrow?" she echoed.
"My grandfather is arriving next week. I need to introduce him to my fiancée. If you agree, we'll get married tomorrow morning."
The room spun around her. It was happening too fast.
"I... I need time to think."
"Of course." He walked her to the door. "But remember, Miss Bennett—time isn't a luxury you have. Your mother's health won't wait."
She stood, clutching her purse."I'll give you my answer tomorrow morning."
"Good." He opened the door. "Margaret will see you out."
In the elevator, Riley's mind reeled. She had just discussed marriage with a stranger—as if it were a business merger.
But this merger could save her mother's life.
Back home, she reached for her phone to call Sophie—but stopped. She already knew what Sophie would say: This is insane. Too dangerous. You have to find another way.
But what other way?
She walked to her bedroom and stared at the photo of her mother. Linda Bennett, the woman who had raised her alone, believed in her dreams, never complained despite everything.
Now it was Riley's turn to give something back.
She picked up her phone and dialed the hospital.
"This is Riley Bennett. Is my mother's doctor available?"
"Please hold… Miss Bennett? Yes, I'm here."
"About my mother's surgery," she said."We can schedule it for the day after tomorrow—if you can confirm payment."
Riley closed her eyes. "I'll confirm it tomorrow."
After hanging up, she walked to the window. Manhattan sparkled in the distance.
Tomorrow, she would make the biggest decision of her life.
She thought of Alexander Grant. Those eyes. That voice. That wall he'd built around himself.
He said he didn't believe in love.And yet… Riley couldn't help but wonder what had made a man so young so cold.
Maybe, she thought, they really could help each other.
She'd give him a wife.He'd give her a chance to save her mother.
This wasn't love.It was survival.
Riley Bennett had made her decision.
The next morning, she put on her best suit and walked toward the Grant Group building.This time, she wasn't a desperate woman—she was a negotiator, ready to sign the most important contract of her life.
Even if that contract didn't include love.