(Amira's POV)
The city was quiet, but my thoughts were loud; louder than the ticking clock or the hum of the fridge. I sat by the window, staring at the street below, where a black car had been parked since evening. It hadn't moved once.
Maybe I was imagining things.
Or maybe Leonardo Vance didn't like to take chances.
The thought sent a chill through me.
On the table sat the folder he had given me — the contract that could change everything. Its presence filled the room, like a shadow I couldn't escape.
"It's just business," I whispered to myself. A deal. Six months.
But my heart didn't believe me. Because nothing about him or that offer felt simple.
By morning, I looked like a ghost. My mother noticed the moment she woke up.
"Amira," she said softly, her voice weak, "you're pale. What's wrong?"
I forced a smile and helped her sit up. "I'm fine, Mama. Just tired."
Her tired eyes studied me. "Are you sure?"
I nodded quickly. "Yes."
But she wasn't convinced. She never was.
I helped her take her medicine and spooned porridge into her bowl, pretending not to see the worry in her face. My mind wasn't there, it was still in that tall glass building, still seeing Leonardo's calm, unreadable eyes.
After breakfast, I went outside for a walk, hoping the air would clear my head. The neighborhood was loud — horns blaring, sellers calling out prices, children chasing each other in the street.
Normal.
Something my life no longer felt like.
I thought of Leonardo again — the way he'd said my name like it meant something. The way he looked at me like he already knew what choice I'd make.
And maybe he did. Because deep down, I already knew too.
By noon, I found myself standing in front of Kemi's door. My best friend opened it wearing a wrapper and a bonnet, her face lighting up.
"Girl! You're alive! How did the interview go?"
I hesitated. "It was… weird."
She frowned. "Weird how?"
"Let's just say it wasn't a normal job offer."
I told her everything — every detail, every strange thing he said, the contract, the house, the rules.
When I finished, Kemi stared at me like I'd grown two heads.
"He asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend?"
"Yes."
"For six months?"
"Yes."
"And he'll pay you how much?"
I told her.
She whistled low. "Amira, that's serious money. But it's also serious trouble."
"I know."
"Why would a billionaire want you to pretend to be his woman? He could get anyone."
"That's what I don't understand," I admitted. "He said he needs me for... reasons he can't explain yet."
Kemi shook her head. "That's how horror movies start. You better be careful."
I smiled faintly, but it didn't reach my eyes. "He gave me until tomorrow to decide."
"Tomorrow?" She groaned. "Girl, that's not a decision — that's pressure. Don't let him rush you."
"I don't have time," I whispered. "Mom's treatment... we can't afford it anymore."
Kemi's expression softened. "Amira…"
Tears burned my eyes. "If this is the only way to save her, can I really say no?"
She didn't answer. She just pulled me into a hug and said, "Whatever you decide, don't lose yourself."
That night, I sat on my bed again, the contract open in front of me. The black car was still outside.
I read every line slowly this time.
Rules about secrecy. Rules about living arrangements. Rules about behavior in public.
And then the clause that made my stomach twist:
> The agreement is strictly confidential. No emotional attachment shall interfere with the terms of service.
Emotional attachment.
Like love was something you could put in a contract.
I dropped the pen and buried my face in my hands.
How has my life come to this?
The next morning, I woke up early and prepared breakfast for Mom. My hands trembled the entire time.
She noticed again.
"Amira," she said gently, "whatever it is you're hiding, I trust you'll make the right choice."
Her words hit me deep. I almost told her everything, but I couldn't. She had enough pain already.
So I smiled and lied, "It's just work stuff, Mama."
After she fell asleep, I sat at the small table, staring at the folder again. My chest felt tight.
One decision. One signature.
That was all it would take to change everything — for better or worse.
My phone buzzed. A message.
Unknown Number: One hour left, Miss Daniels.
My heart skipped.
I went to the window. The black car was still there. Waiting. Watching.
I gripped the curtain, trying to steady my breathing.
Could I really do this? Could I really give up my freedom for six months — to a man I barely knew, whose world terrified me?
But then I thought of Mom again — of her weak smile, her shaking hands, the hospital bills piling up.
I sank into the chair and whispered, "You're doing this for her. Just for her."
Tears filled my eyes, but I didn't wipe them.
I reached for the pen and hovered it above the signature line.
My hand shook. My mind screamed No, but my heart — or maybe my fear — whispered Yes.
The black car outside flashed its headlights once, as if reminding me that time was running out.
I took a deep breath.
"Six months," I said aloud, my voice trembling. "Just six months."
But before the pen could touch the paper, my phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: Mr. Vance is on his way.
My breath caught in my throat.
He was coming.
Right now.
I looked around the small room — at my mother asleep on the bed, at the folder open on the table, at my trembling hands.
And I knew.
The decision I thought I had time to make... was already being made for me.
The sound of a car door shutting echoed from outside.
I froze.
He is here.