"Just sign the papers," the man said coldly, sliding a sleek envelope across the table.
I stared at the silver folder like it had teeth. My fingers twitched, but I didn't move.
"You want me to marry you... for money?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Alexander Knight didn't flinch. Dressed in a tailored black suit, his sharp jawline and piercing grey eyes looked like they were carved from ice. The top button of his shirt remained open, but there was nothing casual about him. He was intimidating, powerful—and completely unreadable.
"Not for money," he said calmly. "For your brother's life."
My heart dropped.
"How do you even know about my brother?"
"I know everything," he replied, checking his watch like he had better things to do. "Leukemia. Stage three. His best shot is that private clinic in Switzerland—if he can get in this week. But it costs a fortune. Money you don't have."
My throat tightened. Everything he said was true. I had tried everything. Called every hospital, begged for discounts, applied for grants. Nothing worked. Time was running out.
"And you'll pay for his treatment... if I marry you?" I asked slowly.
"One year," he said. "No love. No emotions. You act the role of my wife in public, and you stay out of my way in private. At the end of the year, we divorce. Quietly. You walk away with five million dollars and your brother alive."
I blinked. My entire life was changing in real-time.
"Why me?" I whispered.
He leaned forward. "Because I don't trust anyone. And you? You're desperate. Which makes you perfect."
I hated him already.
"What's in it for you?" I asked, folding my arms.
His lips twitched. "My grandfather's inheritance. His condition was that I get married before thirty. My birthday is in two months."
I almost laughed. "You're marrying for money too."
"No," he said. "I'm marrying for power."
The silence stretched between us like a razor-thin wire. Then he stood up, walked to the window of the high-rise office, and looked out over the city like he owned it.
"You have 24 hours to decide," he said. "But if you wait too long... your brother may not have 24 hours."
My hands shook as I stared at the folder.
Inside was a legally binding contract. My name was already printed on the bride line.
This wasn't a proposal. It was a transaction.
And I was about to sell myself to the devil to save my only family.
I picked up the pen.
"Where do I sign?"