Emily's POV
Six months. I couldn't believe I'd been working at the Hawthorne mansion for six months already. Half a year that had been surprisingly... manageable.
For the past few months, Victor Hawthorne had actually been somewhat calm, distant, yes, but not unbearable. We'd fallen into a routine that worked, and I'd begun to think maybe, just maybe, this job wouldn't break me after all.
But yesterday... yesterday had shattered that fragile peace.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the memories came flooding back anyway.
"Miss Greene, what exactly did you put in this food?" His voice had started cold as he stared at the lunch tray I'd brought him, then rapidly escalated. "This is completely inedible! How much spice did you add?"
"Mr. Hawthorne, I don't understand. I've been making your lunch for months now, and I've never added..."
"Never added this much spice?" he'd interrupted, his voice rising to a shout. "Are you seriously going to stand there and deny what I can taste with my own mouth?"
"No, that's not what I meant! I was just trying to say that I don't know how..."
"Enough!" His hand slammed down on the desk, making me flinch.
"I don't want to hear your excuses, Ms. Greene! Six months you've been here, and suddenly you can't even prepare a simple meal correctly?"
My throat had tightened, words dying on my lips. I'd wanted to explain that something must have gone wrong, that I'd made the same dish dozens of times before without incident, that maybe someone else had been in the kitchen. But his fury had stolen my voice.
"Do you have any idea how unprofessional this is?" he'd continued, his dark eyes blazing. "I expect competence from my staff, Ms. Greene. Basic competence! Is that really too much to ask?"
I stood there, hands clenched at my sides, fighting back tears. The sudden shift from his recent calm demeanor to this explosive anger had left me reeling. For months, things had been relatively peaceful between us, professional, if distant.
And now, over a lunch I knew I'd prepared correctly, he was treating me like I was incompetent.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hawthorne," I'd managed to whisper, my voice barely steady. "I'll remake it immediately."
"See that you do," he snapped, pushing the tray away. "And Ms. Greene? Don't let this happen again."
I'd fled to the kitchen with my cheeks burning, replaying the scene over and over.
What had I done wrong? I'd followed the same recipe I always used. Had someone tampered with the food? Had I somehow made a mistake without realizing it? But he hadn't given me a chance to investigate or explain. He'd just yelled.
—
Now, lying in bed with morning light filtering through my room curtains, I felt the weight of yesterday's encounter pressing down on me.
After months of relative peace, his sudden fury had caught me completely off guard. I wondered if I'd imagined the calm of the past few months, or if yesterday was a sign that things were about to get worse.
I didn't want to get up, but I had to. As I got ready for the day, I felt scared about what might happen next. Would he still be angry? Would today bring more accusations I couldn't defend myself against?
Jenkins was already waiting at the door when I arrived, his usually impassive face bearing an odd expression, something between concern and... was that sympathy?
"Ms. Greene, Mr. Hawthorne requires your presence in his study. Immediately."
My stomach clenched. After yesterday's explosion, what fresh torment awaited me? But I couldn't lose this job. Not now. Not when Mom's life literally depended on it.
The study felt colder than usual as I entered. Victor Hawthorne sat behind his massive desk. His dark eyes studied me with an intensity that made me want to shrink into myself.
"Sit down, Ms. Greene," he commanded, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I perched on the edge, bracing myself for another tirade. Was this it? Was he finally firing me after yesterday's supposed failure?
"Tell me," he began, his voice deceptively casual, friendly, even, "how much do you know about me and my situation?"
The question caught me completely off guard. I blinked at him, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor.
This was the same man who had yelled at me yesterday, who had refused to let me explain, who had slammed his hand on the desk in fury. And now he was sitting there asking me questions like we were having a pleasant conversation? Like nothing had happened?
I swallowed hard, trying to process this bizarre turn. "Only what I've read in the news. You're one of the most successful businessmen in the country. But there was an accident a few years ago, and you've been out of the public eye since then."
His laugh was harsh, brittle, but not angry. "A diplomatic way of putting it. And my company? What do you know of that?"
I struggled to focus on his words, still thrown by his friendly tone.
Was he really going to pretend yesterday hadn't happened?
"Bricks and Brains is one of the largest companies in the country," I answered carefully. "But I don't follow business news much these days. I'm usually too busy trying to make ends meet."
"Ah yes, your financial situation." His eyes narrowed, but there was no heat in them, just calculation. "A young widow with a daughter and an ailing mother. Bills piling up. A rather desperate situation, wouldn't you say?"
My cheeks burned. How did he know so much about me? And why was he being so calm about it, as if he hadn't been shouting at me less than twenty-four hours ago?
"Mr. Hawthorne, I don't see how my personal circumstances..."
"They're entirely relevant to what I'm about to propose." He cut me off as he wheeled himself around the desk until he faced me directly.
My pulse quickened. What was happening?
"My board of directors is moving against me. My absence has put my control of the company in jeopardy, Ms. Greene. They believe a reclusive cripple can't lead the company I built from nothing. They want proof of my... stability."
"I still don't understand what this has to do with me," I whispered, though a terrible suspicion was beginning to dawn.
"They want to see me married," he stated bluntly, his tone so casual. "Settled. And that's where you come in."
The words hit me like a physical blow, my legs shaking.
"What?"
"It would be a business arrangement, nothing more. A contract marriage, if you will. You would play the role of my wife for a period of three years, helping me secure my position in the company.
In return, you would receive a substantial financial settlement. Enough to cover your mother's medical bills, your daughter's education, and then something to keep you going for a very long time."
My mind reeled. This couldn't be happening. He'd been yelling at me yesterday over spice in his food, and today he wanted me to marry him? The whiplash was making my head spin.
"You would move into the mansion, of course," he continued, "we would attend social events together, present a united front to the board and the public. You would have access to all the resources you need to play the part convincingly. Your daughter and mother would be well cared for. In return, I ask for your discretion and your cooperation."
"This would be a marriage in name only, Ms. Greene. I assure you, your virtue is not at risk," he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.
I couldn't wrap my head around why this man is now amused? I couldn't keep up with his mood swings.
My mind spun. This kind of thing didn't happen in real life.
"Why me?"
"You're a widow, so you understand loss. You're struggling financially, so you have motivation. You're isolated enough that few would question a whirlwind romance." His eyes swept over me. "And you're attractive enough to be believable as my wife."
Anger finally broke through my confusion. "So you hired me just to... to trap me into this?"
"I hired you to evaluate your suitability. Consider the past six months a trial period."
The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. "The past few months when you were cruel...that was the real test, wasn't it? And yesterday..."
My voice hardened. "Yesterday's outburst about the spice, was that staged too? One final test to see if I'd break?"
His silence was answer enough.
I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the polished floor.
"This is insane. Do you even hear yourself?
You're asking me to lie to everyone, to sell my life for your convenience! You deliberately provoked me yesterday, wouldn't let me explain, and now you're sitting here acting like nothing happened, asking me to pretend to be your wife?"
Victor didn't flinch. "I'm offering you a way out of your financial nightmare, Ms. Greene. I needed to see if you could withstand pressure, if you had the resilience this arrangement would require. Yesterday's test proved that even when pushed unfairly, you maintained your professionalism.
Clearly, you have what it takes, since you came back today."
He wasn't wrong. Not at all.
"You have 72 hours to think about this," he said abruptly. "After that, the offer is off the table."
Without a word, I turned and fled, tears blurring my vision as I ran through the mansion's endless halls. I burst out into the morning air, gulping it down like I was drowning.
Six months. Six months of his cruelty, and it had all been a test.
My phone rang as I reached the driveway. Mrs. Johnson's name flashed on the screen. My hands shook as I answered..
"Emily? Emily, you need to come to the hospital right away. Your mother... she collapsed. The doctors say..."
The rest of her words faded into a roar in my ears