"Ms. Hart, my office. Now."
Isabella looked up from her desk at 9:47 PM, her eyes burning from staring at spreadsheets for the past twelve hours. The floor was empty except for her and Liam—everyone else had gone home hours ago. But this was normal. This was their routine.
Two years. She'd survived two years as Liam Black's secretary, and somewhere along the way, she'd stopped counting the days until she could escape and started dreading the thought of leaving.
She'd fallen in love with him.
It was the stupidest thing she'd ever done.
Liam was still the cold, ruthless CEO who treated emotions like a disease. Still the man who could destroy competitors without blinking. Still the man who'd never once looked at her as anything more than an efficient tool.
But Isabella had seen the cracks. The way he remembered her coffee order without being told. How he'd personally called the hospital when her mother had a crisis, ensuring she got the best doctors. The rare moments when his ice-cold mask slipped and she glimpsed something almost human underneath.
She was an idiot for loving him.
And she was brilliant at hiding it.
"Coming, Mr. Black," she called, saving her work and grabbing her tablet.
His office was dark except for the city lights flooding through the glass walls. Liam stood at the window, his silhouette sharp and solitary against the glowing skyline. He didn't turn when she entered.
"Close the door," he said quietly.
Isabella's stomach twisted. That tone—she'd never heard that tone before. Something was wrong.
She closed the door and waited.
"Sit."
She sat in the chair across from his desk, her heart starting to race. "Is everything alright? Did something happen with the merger? The Tokyo deal?"
"Everything is fine with the company." Liam finally turned, and Isabella's breath caught.
He looked exhausted. Not just tired—exhausted in a way that went bone-deep. His tie was loosened, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was something in his eyes she couldn't read.
Something almost desperate.
"My great-grandfather died three weeks ago," Liam said flatly.
"I know. I organized the funeral." Isabella had handled everything—flowers, guests, media statements. She'd watched Liam stand at that funeral like a statue, not shedding a single tear. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Don't be. I barely knew the man." Liam walked to his desk and pulled out a thick envelope. "He left me a letter. His lawyer delivered it this morning."
Isabella waited, confused about where this was going.
"My great-grandfather built this company from nothing," Liam continued, his voice hard. "He was the one who established Blackwood Global as an empire. When he retired, he gave control to my grandfather, then my father, then me. But there was always one condition built into his will—a condition no one knew about until now."
He opened the envelope and pulled out an aged letter, yellowed with time.
"He believed that power without family was meaningless. That a man who builds an empire should have heirs to pass it to. So he put a clause in his final will." Liam's jaw tightened. "If the current head of the family—me—is unmarried by the time of his death, control of the company passes to the board of directors. I become just another shareholder."
Isabella's eyes widened. "That's—"
"Insane? Archaic? Yes." Liam's laugh was bitter. "But legal. His lawyers made sure of it decades ago. The will was sealed until his death, and now it's been opened. I have fifteen days to marry, or I lose everything."
"Fifteen days," Isabella whispered. "But that's—Mr. Black, you can find someone. You're wealthy, powerful—"
"I don't trust anyone." The words came out harsh, almost angry. "Marriage means vulnerability. It means giving someone access to everything—my finances, my business, my weaknesses. One divorce, one betrayal, and they could destroy me."
"Then marry someone who signed an ironclad prenup—"
"It's not enough!" Liam slammed his hand on the desk, and Isabella jumped. She'd never seen him lose control like this. "A prenup protects assets. It doesn't protect secrets. It doesn't guarantee loyalty. Everyone I know—every woman in my social circle—would sell me out for the right price. They'd leak information to competitors, manipulate me, use the marriage as leverage."
He stopped, breathing hard, then looked directly at Isabella.
"Everyone except you."
The room tilted.
"Ms. Hart," Liam said, his voice returning to that cold, controlled tone. "In two years, you've had access to every secret this company holds. Financial data worth billions. Information that could destroy my competitors—or me. You've seen me at my worst, heard my most confidential calls, handled my most sensitive documents."
He walked toward her slowly, deliberately.
"And you've never betrayed me. Not once. Not even when others tried to bribe you. Not even when my competitors offered you triple your salary to spy for them." He stopped in front of her chair, looking down at her with those intense gray eyes. "You are the most loyal person I've ever met. The most trustworthy. The most logical choice."
Isabella's heart was trying to escape her chest. "Logical choice for what?"
Liam reached behind her and picked up a document from his desk. He held it out to her.
"A marriage contract."
The words hit Isabella like a physical blow.
"What?" she breathed.
"A marriage of convenience," Liam continued, his tone businesslike, as if he was discussing a corporate merger. "Two years. Absolute secrecy—no one can know it's not real, or it invalidates my great-grandfather's will. You'll move into my penthouse to maintain appearances, attend necessary events as my wife, and continue your duties as my secretary."
He laid the contract on the desk between them.
"In exchange, I'll pay you five million dollars upon completion. Your mother's medical bills will be covered in full—all treatments, all medications, for the rest of her life. You'll have financial security you could never achieve otherwise."
Isabella couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Five million dollars. Her mother's medical bills covered. Everything she'd been desperately struggling for, handed to her on a silver platter.
By the man she was in love with.
Who wanted to marry her for convenience.
"This is insane," she whispered.
"It's practical," Liam corrected. "You need money. I need a wife I can trust. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"You're asking me to fake a marriage—"
"I'm offering you a solution to both our problems." He sat on the edge of his desk, his eyes locked on hers. "Two years, Ms. Hart. Twenty-four months of maintaining an appearance, and then we dissolve the marriage quietly. You walk away wealthy and free. I keep my company. No one gets hurt."
"No one gets hurt?" Isabella stood abruptly, her emotions finally breaking through her professional mask. "Mr. Black, you're talking about marriage like it's a business transaction—"
"Because it is." His voice was ice. "I told you two years ago that emotions are a liability. That hasn't changed. This is a contract, nothing more. You'll be my wife legally, but not—" He paused. "—not in any real sense. Separate bedrooms. Professional boundaries maintained. No emotional attachment whatsoever."
Each word felt like a knife in Isabella's chest.
"Why me?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "Why not hire someone? An actress, a professional—"
"Because I trust you," Liam said simply. "And trust is worth more than anything else I could buy."
He stood and walked to the window, his back to her.
"I built this company from the ashes of my father's failures. I turned it into an empire. And I will not lose it because my great-grandfather had outdated ideas about family." His voice was hard, unyielding. "I need someone who won't betray me. Someone who understands discretion. Someone who can play the role convincingly enough that no one questions it."
He turned back to her.
"You're the only person who fits those requirements."
Isabella stared at him, her mind racing. Two years of living with him. Two years of pretending to be his wife while knowing he felt nothing for her. Two years of loving him in secret while he treated her like a business arrangement.
It would destroy her.
But five million dollars. Her mother's medical bills. The security she'd been fighting for since she was twenty-three years old.
"I need time to think," she said, her voice shaking.
"You have until tomorrow morning." Liam's tone left no room for negotiation. "The clock is ticking, Ms. Hart. Fifteen days until I lose everything."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I'll find another solution." His eyes held hers. "But it won't be as clean. It won't be as safe. And whoever I choose will know far less about me than you do—which means the risk of betrayal increases exponentially."
He was telling her that she was his best option. His safest option.
But not because he cared about her.
Because she was trustworthy.
"Read the contract," Liam said, pushing the document toward her. "It's all there. Terms, conditions, compensation, confidentiality clauses. Everything is spelled out clearly. No surprises. No hidden agendas."
Isabella picked up the contract with trembling hands. The weight of it felt like holding her own future.
"This is just business to you," she said quietly. "Nothing else."
"Yes."
One word. One simple, devastating word.
Isabella looked down at the contract, her vision blurring. She thought about her mother, growing weaker every month. About the medical bills that never stopped coming. About the future she'd never be able to afford on her salary alone.
And she thought about Liam—cold, distant, brilliant Liam—who was offering her everything she needed while guaranteeing he would never give her the one thing she wanted.
His heart.
"I'll give you my answer in the morning," Isabella whispered.
"Nine AM," Liam said. "My office. And Ms. Hart?" He looked at her one last time. "Whatever you decide, this conversation never happened. Understood?"
"Understood."
Isabella walked out of that office in a daze, the contract clutched in her hands like a death sentence.
That Night
Isabella sat at her small kitchen table, the contract spread before her, reading every clause with shaking hands.
Article 4: Personal Boundaries
The marriage will be one of legal convenience only. Both parties agree to maintain separate bedrooms and professional distance. No physical intimacy is required or expected.
Article 7: Emotional Detachment
Both parties acknowledge this is a business arrangement without romantic involvement. Any development of emotional attachment will not alter the terms of this contract.
Article 12: Termination
Upon completion of the two-year term, the marriage will be dissolved quietly and efficiently. Both parties will return to their previous professional relationship.
Every word felt like a nail in her coffin.
She could do this. She could pretend. She'd been pretending for two years already—pretending she didn't love him, pretending his coldness didn't hurt, pretending she was just a secretary and nothing more.
What was two more years?
Her phone buzzed. A text from the hospital.
Your mother's treatment is being adjusted. New medication required. Additional $47,000 not covered by insurance. Payment needed within 30 days.
Isabella's hands clenched into fists.
Forty-seven thousand dollars. Money she didn't have. Money she'd never have unless—
She looked at the contract.
Five million dollars.
She could save her mother. Could give her the treatments she needed without drowning in debt. Could finally, finally stop living paycheck to paycheck, constantly terrified that one emergency would destroy everything.
But the cost was her heart.
Could she do it? Could she marry the man she loved while knowing he'd never love her back? Could she live with him, sleep in the room next to his, pretend to be his wife in public while being nothing in private?
Could she survive that?
Isabella thought about her mother's smile. About the way she'd fought cancer for three years, never complaining, always brave. About the sacrifices her mother had made so Isabella could have an education, a future, a chance.
Her mother had fought for her.
Now it was Isabella's turn to fight.
She picked up her phone and set an alarm for 6 AM. She needed to look perfect tomorrow. Professional. Composed. She needed to walk into Liam's office and agree to this arrangement without showing a single crack in her armor.
She could do this.
She had to do this.
But as Isabella lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, one tear slipped down her cheek.
Because agreeing to this contract meant giving up hope.
Hope that someday Liam might see her as more than a secretary. Hope that he might feel something for her beyond professional respect. Hope that the man she loved might, somehow, impossibly, love her back.
This contract killed that hope.
And tomorrow morning, she was going to sign it anyway.
The Next Morning - 9:00 AM
Isabella walked into Liam's office at exactly nine o'clock. She wore her sharpest suit, her most professional expression, and she'd covered the dark circles under her eyes with makeup.
She looked perfect.
She felt hollow.
Liam stood by the window, exactly where he'd been last night. He turned when she entered, his expression unreadable.
"Ms. Hart," he said quietly. "Your decision?"
Isabella walked to his desk. The contract was still there, exactly where she'd left it. Next to it was a pen—expensive, black, heavy with the weight of permanence.
She picked up the pen.
Her hand was trembling. She couldn't stop it from trembling.
"The terms are acceptable," Isabella said, her voice steady even as her hand shook. "I'll sign."
Something flickered in Liam's eyes. Relief? Satisfaction? She couldn't tell.
"You understand what you're agreeing to?" he asked. "Two years. Complete secrecy. No emotional involvement."
"I understand."
"This is just business."
"I understand," Isabella repeated, and the words tasted like ashes in her mouth.
She looked down at the contract, at the line where her signature would seal her fate.
Just business, she told herself. Just a job. Just two years of pretending.
But as she pressed the pen to paper, as her hand shook so badly she could barely write her name, Isabella knew the truth:
This wasn't just business.
This was the moment she chose to save her family by destroying herself.
The pen touched the paper.
And Liam Black, standing behind his desk with that cold, controlled expression, had absolutely no idea that the woman signing his marriage contract was doing it with a broken heart.