CHAPTER 1
1147 Words
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The clink of silverware and the murmur of conversations filled the small diner as Eva wiped down the counter, the edges of the cloth worn from too many uses.
Her hands moved automatically, working through the motions as her mind raced.
She’d barely slept the night before, too worried about her sick mother and her younger brother who needed new school supplies.
The bills kept piling up, and the weight of it all was beginning to feel unbearable.
Her shift had been longer than expected, but it was almost over.
Just a few more minutes and she could go home, take care of her family, and hopefully keep it all from falling apart.
The door chimed, signaling a new customer, and she barely looked up, thinking it was just another regular.
The last few hours had been a blur of small orders and empty chatter. But then something about the way he walked in made her pause.
His presence was different—commanding, but not loud.
His footsteps were slow, measured, like he was in no rush, but the air around him seemed to change with each step.
When he reached the counter, he didn’t need to say anything.
His gaze was direct, sharp, and though he hadn’t even opened his mouth yet, she could feel that he was waiting for her to acknowledge him.
It was as if the air itself bent around him.
"Table for one," he said, his voice low and calm, the kind of voice that made people listen.
Eva nodded, trying to push down the uncomfortable sensation stirring in her chest.
"Just a moment." She gestured toward the booth by the window and turned back to the counter.
A few seconds to regain her focus. She needed to keep it together.
She moved quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles in her apron and checking the silverware.
When she reached him, she paused for a split second. There was something almost unnerving about the way he was watching her, like he was studying her every move.
"Here’s the menu," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Let me know if you need anything else."
He didn’t take the menu right away, his eyes still on her.
"Eva Monroe," he said, more of a statement than a question.
She froze, her hand hovering mid-air. "Yes," she replied, a little more guarded than she intended.
How did he know her name? Her mind raced, but she forced herself to keep calm.
Maybe he was a regular customer, though she couldn’t remember ever seeing him before.
"I need a favor," he continued, his voice as businesslike as ever. "A contract marriage.
You agree to marry me for one year, and I’ll pay off your family’s debts. I’ll take care of everything.
You won’t have to worry about your mother or your brother again."
The words hung in the air between them, too absurd to comprehend fully. She stared at him, blinking as if he’d spoken a foreign language.
A marriage? To this man? What kind of offer was that? She couldn’t have heard him right.
Her fingers tightened around the menu in her hands, but she forced herself to speak. "What’s the catch?"
The man smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of smile she would expect from someone offering help.
It was the smile of someone who already knew the answer, who had everything under control.
"No catch. One year. At the end of it, you walk away. No questions asked. You get what you need, and I get what I need."
His confidence unnerved her. He spoke as if everything was already decided, as if she were just another piece in his carefully orchestrated plan.
The audacity of it made her stomach twist. Who was this man? What was his game?
Eva’s mind raced. The weight of her family’s situation pressed down on her chest.
Her mother’s medical bills had only gotten worse, and her brother—she couldn’t even think about the schooling he was missing.
She had to do something. Anything. She was barely keeping it together. But marriage?
A contract marriage? She shook her head, trying to make sense of it.
"Why me?" she asked, her voice quieter now, searching for some sense in this madness.
He didn’t hesitate. "Because you need the money. And because I need someone who won’t ask questions."
Her breath caught. He made it sound so simple. No strings. No emotional ties. Just a deal. But was it really that easy? Could she trust him?
Eva’s thoughts were spinning, but the reality of her situation snapped her back to the moment.
She needed the money. She needed a way out. If she said no, it was just more of the same: endless struggle, sleepless nights, and the pressure of keeping her family afloat. But if she said yes...
"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
His eyes locked onto hers. "A year. After that, we’re done. No strings attached. I get my inheritance. You get your family’s freedom. That’s all."
His gaze was unwavering. There was something cold about him, something calculating, but at the same time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t lying.
He wasn’t asking for anything more than what he’d said.
Eva’s fingers brushed the edge of the envelope he’d placed on the table. She hadn’t even seen him move it, but there it was, waiting for her.
This was insane. How could this be happening?
She stared at the envelope, the weight of the decision pressing on her. It wasn’t just about her anymore.
It was about her mother, her brother, their future. She had to do something. If not this, then what? There was no other way out.
"I’ll do it," she said, the words leaving her lips before she could stop them. The finality of it startled her.
Was it the right choice? She wasn’t sure. But it was the only choice that made sense.
He didn’t react much, just a small nod. "Good. I’ll have the paperwork ready. You’ll be paid within the week."
And with that, he stood, his movement smooth and controlled, as if their entire conversation had been nothing more than a transaction.
He turned to leave, his coat swirling behind him like it belonged to someone else.
Eva stared after him, her heart pounding. It was over. She’d agreed.
But as she reached for the envelope, a voice from the corner of the diner suddenly cut through the air, piercing the calm.
"Don’t do it, Eva."
Her body froze, her hand trembling as it hovered above the envelope. She knew that voice.
The voice of someone who had once been her closest friend. The voice of someone who had warned her about men like him.
She turned slowly, her breath catching in her throat, to find—
- Writer
