The billionaire’s bride of shadows

The clatter of dished and the low hum of late-night conversation filled the tiny diner in Valemont city where Ciara Williams worked. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, adding to her already splitting headache. Her sneakers squeaked as she moved between tables, balancing a tray of half-eaten burgers and sticky ketchup bottles. “Refill on table four, Ciara!” her co-worker, Maggie, called from behind the counter. Ciara forced a smile. “On it” she said. Ciara basically moved on autopilot now. Her arms were sore, her feet numb, and her shift had stretched into a tenth straight hour. The diner rush had come and gone, leaving behind a mess of crumbs, spilled coffee, and a headache that refused to stop. But this was her life now;college student by day, waitress by night. Most days, it felt like the night never ended. She set the tray down by the sink in the kitchen and leaned against the wall,just for a second,to breathe. Her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. She pulled it out, heart sinking when she saw the email notification. Subject: FINAL WARNING,Tuition Overdue! Ciara didn’t open it. She already knew what it said. She was two months behind. If she didn’t pay the balance by the end of the week, her enrollment would be frozen. No classes. No degree. No future. She slid the phone back into her pocket and blinked hard. She refused to cry at work. “You good?” Maggie, her co-worker, asked as she passed by with a plate of fries. Ciara nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.” That was always the answer. Tired. Tired of working so hard, tired of living of ramen and cheap coffee, tired of fighting so hard just to stay one step away from total collapse. Later, as she wiped down the last table of the night, her thoughts drifted somewhere she didn’t want them to go. Back to last weekend; The music had been loud, the bar dim. She hadn’t meant to go out, hadn’t plannedon drinking, and certainly hadn’t expected to end up in someone’s bed. But there she was. One drink turned into three,small talk turned into soft touches, and before she knew it, she was waking up in an unfamiliar room with expensive sheets and a sharp headache. She hadn’t even asked his name. He was gone by the time she opened her eyes, all that was left from him was a note on the pillow, which read; “Thanks for the night.” Ciara had promised herself it was a mistake,a one-time thing, a moment of weakness after a really bad week. She came up with multipe reasons to justify what took place during the night before. But what haunted her wasn’t the act, it was how good it had felt to forget everything for one night. The stress, the pressure, the fear. For a few hours, she’d felt like someone else, someone free! By the time her shift ended,it was almost midnight. She waved goodbye to Maggie, wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, and stepped out into the chilly night. Her tiny apartment was a fifteen-minute walk from the diner. The streets were mostly empty,and the cold air stung her cheeks.She used to be afraid walking home this late, but after months of doing it, the fear had numbed. A cold,swift breeze passed Ciara as she walked down the street. This breeze wasn’t the normal cold air that the weather let loose, it was the kind that accompanied the passage of a person, and Ciara was aware of that. But aftr turning to have a look at whom this person was, all she could see where the street lights blinking. She thought nothing of it and continued walking. She reached her building, climbed the creaky stairs, and let herself into her studio apartment. It was small, barely enough room for a bed, a desk, and a cracked kitchenette. But at least she could call it hers. For now, at least. She dropped her bag. Kicked off her shoes, and collapsed onto the bed. Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t the school. It was a message from a numbe she didn’t recognize, it read; “Are you still looking for financial help? We may have a solution. Strictly confidential. Interested?” Ciara stared at the screen. She’d posted on a few student forums earlier that week, asking about scholarship programs or emergency aid. Maybe this was someone reachig out. She was desperate enough to reply, asking “Who is this?” The reply came almost instantly. “A private arrangement. One that could pay off all your debt and more. No scams, no sugar daddies. Just an agreemet. If you’re serious, meet with us tomorrow at 6p.m. Details will be sent.Ciara frowned. Not just because the reply didn’t answer the question sh’d asked but because it sounded sketchy. Too vague to be real. But also not completely unbelievable. She tossed her phone aside and stared at the ceiling. This wasn’t the first wierd offer she’d gotten. But something about this one felt different. It wasn’t immoral, It wasn’t asking for pictures or favours, It was just vague. But right now, vague was better than broke. She closed her eyes, telling herself she’d ignore it. But her phone buzzed again a few seconds later. A location. Downtown, near the fancy part of the city, near the offices where real money lived. She swallowed. One meeting couldn’t hurt. Right? The next day passed in a fog. She went to her morning lecture, barely taking notes. Her professor’s voice was a blur. Words like “midterm” and “final project” floated past her ears, but none of it mattered if she got kicked out before the semester ended. By 5:30, she stood in front of her closet, staring at her limited wardrobe. Everything smeeled like grease or coffee. She finally settled on a simple black blouse, jeans, and her cleanest sneakers. She tied her curls up into a bun and on a bit of lipgloss. Nothing fancy, just enough to look like she hadn’t given up completely. She took the bus downtown and walked the last few blocks to the address from the text. The building stood tall and dark, with mirrored windows and gold trim. No sign, no name. It looked like what was meant to be an abandoned building, except it was situated in the fancy part of the city so it was far from deserted and unkept. There was a heavy black door that looked far too expensive for someone like her to touch. She hesitated. This could be trap, she thought to herself. But then she remembered the tuition email, the rent notice taped to her door, the aching in her back from working double shifts. She summoned enough courage and knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened. A tall man in a tailored black suit stood on the other side. He looked a lot like a bodyguard. His eyes scanned her quickly, assessing and measuring. “You’re Ciara Williams?” he asked. “Yes,” she said, trying not to sound nervous. “Come in. He’s expecting you.” She stepped inside. The floors were marble. The lighting was low and warm. Everything smelled expensive like leather and cologne and secrets. He led her down a long hallway, past empty rooms and closed doors, until they reached a private lounge, where there were soft couches, a fireplace, a single glass of red wine on the table. She sat, hands folded in her lap, and waited. A few minutes later, she heard the sound of footsteps, and then the door opened. A man stepped in. Tall, dark-haired, and impossibly well-dressed. He looked like he belonged in a magazine. Sharp cheekbones, cold eyes, and a face that didn’t seem to age. “Miss Williams,” he said. His voice was deep, smooth, almost too calm. “I’m Rowan Cullen.” Ciara blinked. That name sounded familiar. She might’ve seen it on a business article once, or maybe on a billionaire list. Whatever she expected, it wasn’t him.”You’re the one who sent the message?” she asked, standing quickly. “I did.” he said. “What is this, exactly?” she asked. “Because I don’t do weird deals, and if this is some kind of___” “It’s a marriage proposal,” he said while stopping her mid-sentence. Ciara blinked. “Excuse me?” she said with so much confusion in her eyes. “A legal marriage, nothing romantic. You need money and a friend of mine needs a partner, temporarily.” Ciara stared at him, unsure if she’d misheard. Seeing the confusion lingering in her eyes,Rowan decided to break the silence. “You’ll be paid generously. Your debts cleared,your education fully funded. In return you’ll act as the wife of a billionaire for one year.” She took a step back, her heart pounding. This had to be a joke, but his face didn’t look like it belonged to someone who joked, and for some reason, Ciara didn’t walk away.