Elena had spent the entire night tossing and turning, Damian's words replaying in her head like a curse she couldn't escape.
"Marry me. Be mine on paper, and in public."
It wasn't a proposal. It was a demand.
Her mother's pale face at dinner, the worry lines carved into her father's once-proud expression, the bankruptcy letters—everything had been weighing on her for weeks. And now, one man, one impossible man, held all the cards.
By the time dawn broke, Elena knew sleep was impossible. She showered quickly, dressed in a modest cream blouse and pencil skirt, and steeled herself. If Damian Blackwood wanted to play the Devil, then she would walk straight into his lair and demand answers.
The elevator ride to the Blackwood Towerfelt endless. The glass panels gave her a sweeping view of the city below—skyscrapers piercing the clouds, traffic flowing like lifeblood through the streets. This was hiskingdom. And she was about to step directly into it.
The receptionist barely looked up when Elena gave her name. A flicker of recognition crossed the woman's face, followed by something Elena couldn't quite place—pity? Amusement? She pushed the thought aside as she was led upstairs.
When the elevator doors slid open at the top floor, Damian was already waiting.
He stood in front of a wall of windows, city lights casting a halo around his tall frame. Black suit. Black tie. Dark eyes that cut through her resolve the moment they locked onto hers.
"Elena," he said smoothly, as though he'd been expecting her at this very hour. "Punctual. I like that."
Her chin lifted. "I didn't come here because I like you. I came because I want to understand what exactly you're asking of me."
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "I believe I was very clear. I want you to be my wife."
"You don't even know me."
"I don't need to," Damian replied, moving toward her with slow, deliberate steps. "Marriage isn't always about love. Sometimes it's about power. Leverage. Appearances. And you, Elena Hayes, happen to be the perfect solution."
Her stomach knotted. "Perfect solution to what?"
He stopped a breath away, his cologne wrapping around her like smoke. "My board wants me married. Investors want stability. The vultures circling this company want weakness. I can't afford to give them any. A wife silences all of them."
Her lips parted in disbelief. "So I'm just… a shield? A decoration?"
"You're much more than that," Damian murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. "You're a Hayes. Your family's reputation, though tarnished, is still salvageable. By saving you, I save myself."
Her chest tightened at the word saving. He made it sound like a business merger, not a marriage.
"And what do I get?" she asked softly.
He studied her, and for the first time, his mask seemed to crack—just a little. "Your family's debts. Gone. Your father's company. Restored. Your mother's health treatments, paid in full. In return, all I ask is loyalty. Publicly, you'll be my perfect wife. Privately…" His voice dropped, dangerous and smooth. "We'll set the terms as we see fit."
Elena's pulse thundered. There was something in his tone—dark, suggestive, like a promise she wasn't ready to unravel.
She shook her head, needing to anchor herself. "This is insane. You can't just buy me like some… trophy."
"You think you have another option?" Damian countered, his voice hardening. "Walk away, and by next week your father's company will be liquidated. Your family will lose everything. Your mother—"
"Don't." Her voice broke, tears stinging her eyes. "Don't you dare use her against me."
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features—regret? Or was she imagining it? But just as quickly, the Devil returned, his mask back in place.
"I'm offering you salvation, Elena. Not destruction. But the clock is ticking."
She backed away, desperate for air. "You're a monster."
His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Perhaps. But I'm the monster who can save you."
She left his office in a daze, her heels clicking against the marble floors like a countdown she couldn't stop. Every part of her screamed to run, to never look back. But as she stepped into the elevator, her phone buzzed.
A text from her father.
"They're calling in the loans, Elena. We're finished."
Her knees went weak. Damian's words echoed in her head. "The clock is ticking."
And just like that, she realized the truth:
She was already trapped.
That night, Elena sat at the dining table with her parents. Her father's face was pale, drawn. Her mother tried to smile through her exhaustion, but her trembling hands gave her away.
"Elena," her father began, his voice heavy. "We may have to sell the house. I don't know how much longer I can keep the creditors at bay."
Her chest ached as she watched them—people who had given her everything, now crumbling under the weight of debts that weren't theirs to carry alone.
Damian's offer wasn't just about her anymore. It was about them.
Her fork clattered against the plate. "Dad… Mom… I can fix this."
Both of them looked at her, startled.
"How?" her father asked bitterly. "Unless you've found a way to conjure millions overnight…"
Her throat tightened. "Not conjure. But… someone is willing to help. At a price."
Her mother's brow furrowed. "What price, sweetheart?"
Elena's eyes burned as she whispered the words she never thought she'd say. "Marriage."
Silence fell. Her father's face darkened, his knuckles tightening on the table. "Who?"
Elena swallowed. "Damian Blackwood."
The reaction was instant. Her father slammed his fist on the table, making her mother jump. "Absolutely not! That man is a devil. He'll eat you alive!"
Her mother reached for her hand, worry etched in her features. "Elena, darling… are you sure?"
Her voice trembled, but her resolve hardened. "If I don't, we'll lose everything. This is the only way."
Her father's jaw clenched. He looked ready to argue, but when he saw the tears brimming in Elena's eyes, something in him broke. He turned away, shoulders slumping.
Her mother's grip tightened. "If this is what you truly want… we'll support you."
Elena forced a brave smile, though inside she felt like she was unraveling. "It's not what I want. It's what we need."
The next morning, Elena walked back into Blackwood Tower. Her hands were trembling, but her chin was high. She found Damian waiting, as though he'd known she would come.
"So?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous, expectant.
Elena met his gaze, her heart pounding. "I'll marry you."
For the first time, Damian's expression softened. Victory gleamed in his eyes, but beneath it was something else—something darker, deeper, unreadable.
"Good," he said softly, stepping closer. "Then from this moment on, Elena Hayes… you belong to me."