The contract proposal
1384 Words
Episode 1 – The Contract Proposal
The sharp antiseptic scent clung to Emma Rivers’ clothes as she sat hunched in the vinyl chair by her brother’s hospital bed. The fluorescent light overhead buzzed, a weak and uneven hum that drilled into her skull. Her shoulders sagged under exhaustion, but her hand never let go of Daniel’s.
He looked impossibly fragile. Seventeen, yet pale as porcelain, his chest rising and falling in shallow waves beneath the tubes that tethered him to the machines. His lips were cracked, his hair damp with sweat. Every breath he took sounded like a promise about to break.
Emma’s thumb brushed over his knuckles. “Don’t give up, Danny,” she whispered, leaning closer. “Please. I’ll fix this. I promise.”
But promises didn’t stop hospital bills from piling like mountains.
She slipped her free hand into her bag, pulling out the folded invoice she knew by heart. ₦8,750,000. Surgery, medication, therapy—not even counting the follow-ups. Her throat tightened. She had worked three jobs, sold her late mother’s jewelry, begged neighbors for loans. None of it mattered. She was drowning, and Daniel was slipping through her fingers.
That night, she wandered to the cafeteria for cheap coffee. Two nurses whispered at the next table. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but their words cut through the haze.
“Alexander Frost was here yesterday,” one said.
“The billionaire?” the other whispered.
“The Ice King himself. No heart, no mercy. But… if he wants something, he’ll make a deal. Doesn’t matter how unusual.”
Emma’s chest tightened. A man like that couldn’t care about someone like her. And yet the words stuck, gnawing at her until she could hardly breathe.
By morning, desperation made the decision for her.
---
The Frost Enterprises skyscraper loomed above her, piercing the clouds with steel and glass. Its mirrored windows reflected the gray sky, sharp as a blade. Emma clutched her bag, staring at her faint reflection in the towering doors. She wore a wrinkled navy dress, her secondhand heels biting at her feet. She looked like a girl on the verge of breaking.
Inside, marble floors gleamed under the golden light of chandeliers. The receptionist’s eyes flicked over Emma with practiced indifference. “Name?”
“Emma Rivers. I—” She swallowed. “I requested a meeting with Mr. Frost.”
A pause. A skeptical glance. Then a curt phone call, followed by, “Top floor. He’s waiting.”
Emma’s heart lurched. Waiting?
The elevator carried her higher and higher, every floor another weight pressing down on her chest. When the doors slid open, silence greeted her. Only one door stood at the end of the corridor: Alexander Frost – CEO.
Her knuckles trembled as she knocked.
“Enter.”
The voice was deep, commanding.
The office stretched wide, lined with bookshelves and framed by glass walls that overlooked the glittering city. Behind a mahogany desk sat Alexander Frost.
Her breath caught. He was nothing like the photos—he was worse. Tall, broad-shouldered, carved from sharp edges. His charcoal suit fit him like armor, his tie perfectly knotted. But it was his eyes—gray, cold, unyielding—that pinned her like prey.
“You’re late,” he said without looking up from his papers.
“I—the elevator—”
“Excuses waste time.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.”
Her knees shook as she obeyed. The leather swallowed her small frame, her bag clutched in her lap like a shield.
“You asked for this meeting,” he said, finally raising his gaze. “You have five minutes.”
Her pulse thundered. “Mr. Frost, I need help. My brother… he’s very sick. He needs surgery I can’t afford. I’ve tried everything—extra shifts, loans, selling what little I had. It’s not enough.” Her voice cracked, but she forced herself on. “I heard you sometimes make… arrangements.”
His eyebrow arched. “Arrangements?”
“Yes. Unusual deals.”
He rose, moving around the desk with the grace of a predator. Up close, he radiated power, cold and suffocating. His cologne was crisp, metallic—like winter air.
“You’re brave to stand here,” he murmured. “Or foolish.”
Emma swallowed hard. “Both.”
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. He opened a drawer, drew out a folder, and slid it across the desk toward her.
Emma stared. “What is this?”
“A contract.” His lips curved faintly, though it never touched his eyes. “Sign it, and your brother’s medical expenses vanish.”
Her throat went dry. “What kind of contract?”
His voice dropped, deliberate and sharp. “Marriage.”
The word cracked through the air like thunder.
“M—marriage?”
“On paper,” he said smoothly. “In reality, an arrangement. My board wants stability. The press wants headlines. Investors want to see me settled. A wife silences them all. Conveniently, you need money.” He leaned closer, his gaze locking onto hers. “We both get what we want.”
Emma’s mind spun. “Why me?”
“Because you’re desperate, not greedy,” he said bluntly. “You don’t want my fortune—you want to save someone else. That makes you useful. And…” His eyes swept over her, assessing, cold. “…you’re ordinary enough to be believable. Not so ordinary that you’d embarrass me.”
Heat stung her cheeks—shame and fury tangled together.
“One year,” Alexander continued. “You’ll play the part of my wife. Galas, dinners, photographs. You’ll live here. You’ll follow my rules. In return, your brother gets the best care money can buy. When it’s over, you leave with enough money to never worry again.”
Her lips parted. “And if I say no?”
He smirked faintly. “Then you leave. And your brother’s fate remains unchanged.”
He slid a silver pen across the desk, its gleam catching the morning light.
“You have until midnight,” he said, voice like steel. “Tick-tock, Miss Rivers.”
---
Emma stumbled out of the office, the contract clutched in her trembling hands.
The elevator ride down was a blur. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her reflection pale and haunted. Marriage. Not love. Not devotion. A contract.
Back at the hospital, Daniel was awake. His thin fingers drummed on the blanket, his smile weak but genuine.
“You look like you fought a tornado,” he rasped.
Emma forced a laugh. “You should see the tornado.”
But her smile faltered under his knowing gaze.
“You’re hiding something,” he said softly.
She busied herself with his pillow. “Don’t be silly.”
“You always do that when you lie. Like Mom used to.” His lips twitched into a faint smile. “Come on, Em. You found something, didn’t you?”
Her chest ached. She wanted to protect him, shield him from the truth. But Daniel’s eyes, though weary, were unrelenting.
“Maybe,” she whispered. “But it’s complicated.”
“Then do it,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered. “Whatever it is. I don’t care how crazy. Just don’t give up. I want to live, Em. I want to play football again, eat street suya, fall in love. Isn’t that worth it?”
Her throat burned with tears. She clasped his hand tighter. “It’s worth everything.”
---
That night, Emma sat in her tiny apartment, the contract spread across the table. The words blurred through her tears. Confidentiality. Public appearances. Living arrangements. Even rules about her personal life. Every page screamed control.
Her pen hovered above the signature line.
Daniel’s smile flashed in her mind. I want to live.
Her heart hammered. Her breath shook. And then—slowly, shakily—her name bled across the page.
Emma Rivers.
The moment the ink dried, her chest hollowed. She felt as though she had given away more than a signature. She had given away herself.
---
The clock struck midnight.
Somewhere in his glass fortress, Alexander Frost smiled.
The deal was sealed.
Her fate was no longer her own.
- Writer
