Elena Voss paused outside the glass fortress of Dravenhart Global, the November wind slicing through her coat as if the whole city wanted to push her back.
She stepped forward anyway.
The revolving doors swallowed her, and seventy-three floors later, the private elevator opened directly into the one office she never thought she'd enter again.
No receptionist,No assistant.
No buffer
Just Damien Reyes Dravenhart, and the empire he'd rebuilt from ash.
He didn't look up.
The skyline glittered behind him, but he was all sharp angles and cold discipline, black hair falling across his forehead, suit molded to his frame like armor. Five years had stripped him of every softness she remembered; the boy who once laughed against her mouth now stood carved from ice and intention.
"Close the door, Elena."
His voice slid through her like a memory she didn't ask for.
She obeyed. The click echoed too loudly.
Only then did he lift his gaze. Storm-gray eyes locked onto hers, steady, unreadable, merciless.
"You look good," he said calmly, "for someone whose company is bleeding out on the pavement."
The hit landed exactly where he aimed.
"I'm not here for insults," she replied.
"No," he murmured, leaning back slightly, "you're here to beg."
Her jaw tightened. "I'm here to negotiate."
His mouth curved, not a smile, but an autopsy of one.
"Negotiate. Adorable."
He stood, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Damien crossed the space between them with slow, measured steps, stopping close enough that the heat of his body brushed hers without a single touch.
"Your brother's embezzlement left Voss Strategic nine figures in debt," he said, voice silk over a blade. "Your board voted to liquidate this morning. By tonight, your name will be trending alongside words like fraud and collapse."
Elena forced her breathing to stay even.
"Get to the point."
His eyes didn't waver.
"I'll save your company. I'll clear your name. I'll keep Marcus out of prison."
A beat passed.
"In exchange…"
He removed a document from his desk drawer and set it between them.
Marriage Contract- Damien Reyes Dravenhart & Elena Marie Voss
Her stomach dropped.
"Damien," she breathed, "you cannot be serious."
"Dead serious."
"One year," he continued, voice steady. "Move into my penthouse. Attend events. Smile for the cameras. Play the devoted wife. In return, Voss Strategic becomes debt-free."
"And if I say no?"
The coldness in his eyes was absolute.
"Then Marcus goes to prison," he said softly. "And everything your father built disappears from the earth."
Her pulse roared in her ears.
"You hate me enough to demand this?" she asked.
He leaned in, his breath brushing her cheek.
"I haven't even begun to hate you properly."
The room seemed to tilt.
"You could've just bought the company," she whispered. "Why marriage?"
His answer was immediate.
"Because I want you close. I want you where I can watch you, every day, every night. Suffering the way I did."
A chill ran through her.
He slid a pen toward her.
Black. Heavy. Final.
"Sign it, Elena."
The contract blurred. Her hand hovered.
And for one impossible second, she saw flashes of another time;
his laugh under summer fireworks,
his hands warm on her back,
the boy who had once trusted her with every part of him.
That boy was dead.
"Wait."
The single word cracked the air.
Damien stood still, expression unreadable but eyes flickering with something she couldn't name.
"Once you sign, there's no escape," he murmured. "Not for you. Not for me."
Their breath mingled in the charged space between them.
Elena lifted the pen with steady fingers she did not feel.
"Give it to me," she said.
His eyes darkened, dangerous, hungry.
She bent to sign.
The pen glided across paper, her name unfurling in elegant strokes.
When she finished, Damien took his own pen. Their gazes held as he signed with bold, unforgiving lines.
Silence settled.
Outside, snow drifted against the windows, soft, slow, impossibly gentle compared to the war beginning inside the office.
Damien finally spoke.
"Welcome home, wife."
The words were quiet. Terrible. Final.
And as the snow fell, Elena realized…
Signing the contract wasn't surrender.
It was the opening shot.