Chapter One
Married by Contract to the Cold Billionaire
Lily Carter had exactly three problems that morning.
First, her father's hospital bill sat on the small kitchen table like a death sentence, the numbers printed in bold red ink she couldn't stop staring at.
Second, her phone wouldn't stop ringing.
And third—
the caller ID read: Adrian Blackwood.
She swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the chipped mug in her hands. The coffee inside had long gone cold, but she didn't notice. Her heart was pounding too loudly in her ears.
Adrian Blackwood didn't call people like her.
He was a billionaire. A CEO whose name appeared in business magazines and gossip columns alike. A man so far out of her world that even thinking about him felt unreal.
Yet here he was, calling her at eight in the morning.
The phone rang again.
Lily took a deep breath and answered.
"Hello?"
"Miss Carter," came a deep, calm voice on the other end. Cold. Controlled. The kind of voice that never hesitated. "You're late."
Her brows knit together. "Late for what?"
A pause. Not the awkward kind—more like he was measuring her reaction.
"For the meeting you agreed to yesterday," Adrian Blackwood said. "My driver is already downstairs."
Her pulse spiked. Yesterday…
Yesterday, she'd been desperate.
Yesterday, the doctor had told her they wouldn't proceed with her father's surgery without a partial payment upfront. Yesterday, she had sat in a quiet hallway, hands shaking, wondering how much dignity a person could sell before there was nothing left.
And yesterday, Adrian Blackwood had appeared with an offer that sounded insane.
"I didn't agree," Lily said quietly. "I said I'd think about it."
"You had twelve hours," he replied smoothly. "That's more than generous."
She bit her lip, gaze drifting back to the hospital bill. The numbers hadn't changed overnight. Neither had reality.
"What exactly is this meeting about?" she asked, though she already knew.
There was another pause—then his voice dropped slightly, lower, sharper.
"Marriage."
The word hit her like a slap.
Even now, hearing it out loud made her chest tighten.
"Don't joke about things like that," Lily said, forcing a shaky laugh. "I don't have time for rich-people humor."
"I don't joke," Adrian replied. "And I don't waste time."
Of course he didn't.
She squeezed her eyes shut. "Why me?"
"That's irrelevant," he said. "What matters is what you get in return."
Her grip on the phone tightened. "And what exactly is that?"
"Your father's medical expenses," Adrian answered. "Fully covered. Surgery, recovery, aftercare. No conditions attached."
Her breath caught.
No conditions.
That alone sounded like a lie.
"And the condition?" she asked.
"You marry me," he said calmly. "For one year."
Lily laughed then—sharp and incredulous. "You want me to believe a billionaire needs a fake wife?"
"I need a wife," Adrian corrected. "The reasons are mine. The duration is fixed. The terms are clear."
Her heart raced. "And after one year?"
"We divorce," he said. "Quietly. Cleanly. You walk away with compensation that will ensure you never struggle financially again."
The kitchen felt too small. The walls seemed to close in around her.
"This is insane," Lily whispered.
"Yes," Adrian agreed. "But it's efficient."
Efficient.
She hated how calmly he spoke, as if proposing marriage was no different from signing a business deal. Maybe to him, it wasn't.
"I won't be owned," she said, anger flaring through the fear. "I'm not something you can buy."
"I'm not buying you," Adrian replied coolly. "I'm offering you a contract. You're free to refuse."
Free.
She looked at the hospital bill again.
Freedom, it seemed, was expensive.
"If I say no," Lily asked quietly, "what happens?"
"Nothing," Adrian said. "I move on. You do the same."
She knew that was a lie.
She wouldn't move on. She'd watch her father suffer. She'd drown in debt. She'd carry the guilt forever.
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Adrian spoke again. "My driver will wait ten more minutes. If you don't come down, I'll assume your answer is no."
The call ended.
Lily stared at her phone, hands trembling.
Ten minutes.
She pressed her lips together, then stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the chair behind her. She grabbed her worn jacket, slung her bag over her shoulder, and glanced once more around the tiny apartment she'd grown up in.
"This doesn't mean anything," she whispered to herself. "It's just a year."
Just a year married to a man who looked at life like a transaction.
Downstairs, a sleek black car waited at the curb, its tinted windows hiding whoever sat inside.
As Lily stepped toward it, her stomach twisted.
She had a terrible feeling that signing this contract wouldn't just change her life.
It would ruin it.
Or save it.
And she had no idea which one scared her more.