Ava Miller held the eviction notice like it was a ticking bomb. Her hands shook, even though she tried not to show it. Three days. That was all she had.
The kitchen smelled of burnt toast and cheap instant coffee. Her dad sat slumped at the table, staring at the wall like it was going to fix itself.
"We can't pay this," she said softly.
He rubbed his face. "The hospital bills… everything. I'm trying, Ava. I really am."
"Trying isn't enough!" She slammed her fist on the table, making the mug wobble. "We're losing the apartment, the furniture, everything! Do you even realize that?"
Her dad flinched but didn't answer. Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
"I'll fix it," she said finally, her voice quieter this time but firm.
He looked at her, hope and guilt mixing in his tired eyes. "Ava… you're only twenty-two. You don't even—"
"I said I'll fix it." She grabbed her coat without waiting for him to finish. The drizzle outside welcomed her like it understood. London rain always felt like judgment.
The building she approached looked impossibly sleek. Glass walls, polished floors, a doorman who barely blinked at her. She followed the directions on the note someone had slipped under her door. Wrong floor. Wrong room.
She knocked anyway.
No answer.
Pushing the door open, she stepped inside.
A man sat at a table, papers spread neatly in front of him. The smell of expensive cologne hit her immediately. He didn't even look surprised to see her.
"You're late," he said, calm but dangerous.
"I… I think I—"
"Sit."
Ava frowned. "I don't take orders from strangers."
He raised an eyebrow. Dark eyes, sharp suit. "You'll learn you do in my world."
She froze, but something about his tone made it clear: sitting was not optional. Against her better judgment, she obeyed.
"I'm Adrian Blackwood," he said, voice smooth and cold. "And you are?"
"Ava Miller," she muttered. Her voice sounded small even to her own ears.
"Right. Let's get to business." He slid a thick folder toward her.
Her stomach tightened. Eviction notices. Hospital bills. Debts. She knew what was coming, and still, a small part of her hoped she was wrong.
"You want me to marry you?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.
"Yes."
A sharp laugh escaped her. "That's a joke, right?"
"Not at all." His eyes didn't flinch, didn't waver. "One year. Possibly two. My inheritance depends on it. I need a wife. You… fit the criteria."
Ava blinked. "Criteria?"
"You're poor, desperate, and you won't fall in love with me," he said flatly.
Her jaw tightened. "Oh, I see. I'm just a checklist for your fortune then."
He leaned back. "You're practical. I like that. But it's more than that. Sign the contract, your family is saved. Refuse, and… well, your father's debts continue."
Her hands shook as they hovered over the folder. Every muscle in her body screamed no. She could run, scream, argue, anything… but she couldn't escape the reality staring her in the face.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Unknown number.
She answered.
"This is Adrian," the same calm, dangerous voice said.
Her spine stiffened. "You're the man from the room?"
"Yes. Do you like contracts?"
"No. I like freedom."
"Good. Neither do I. But we need each other," he said. The faintest smirk touched his lips.
Ava swallowed hard. "And if I refuse?"
"Then your family suffers."
Her father's tired face flashed in her mind. The pleading eyes, the small apartment filled with bills, the constant worry.
She took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll do it."
"Good choice." His smirk grew sharper. "But know this: this is not a marriage. This is a business arrangement. Mistakes will not be tolerated."
Ava's chest tightened. "I don't do marriage anyway."
"Good," he said. "Neither do I. Rules are simple: no touching, no feelings, smile in public. That's all."
She met his gaze, icy and commanding. Her heart thumped in spite of herself.
"This is your life now, Ms. Miller," he said, sliding the folder back toward her. "Welcome to your contract."
Her hand shook as she picked up the pen. One stroke, one signature. A year bound by rules, by money, by obligation.
She signed.
He stood, towering over her, the room suddenly feeling smaller. "Rule one: do not test me."
Ava raised an eyebrow. "Noted. And what if I do?"
"You'll regret it," he said softly, almost amused. "Rule two: do not fall for me."
She laughed bitterly. "That's already impossible."
Adrian paused, leaning back against the table. "Interesting," he murmured. "Most try. Most fail."
Ava looked at him, a mixture of fear, defiance, and something she didn't want to admit—curiosity.
"Day one of the contract," she muttered under her breath. "And it's already hell."
"Hell is an understatement," Adrian said. His smirk returned, sharper this time. "But I have a feeling you'll enjoy the challenge."
Ava swallowed. Her hand still holding the pen. She had just signed her life away… and yet, she couldn't stop her heart from racing.