Purchased Vows

The envelope felt heavier than it should have. I stared at the embossed letterhead—*Sterling Industries*—and my hands trembled as I tore it open. Inside, a single sheet of paper with a number that made my stomach drop. $250,000. That's what my father owed. That's what would destroy everything we'd built if I didn't find a way to pay it back in the next thirty days. I sank onto the threadbare couch in my tiny apartment, the letter crumpling in my fist. My phone buzzed—another call from the hospital. Mom's medical bills were piling up, and my part-time job at the coffee shop barely covered rent, let alone the mountain of debt my father had left behind when he disappeared six months ago. "Olivia?" My roommate Sarah's voice cut through my panic. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." I forced a smile. "Just bills. Nothing new." But this wasn't just bills. This was the end. The bank would take our family home, the only thing left of my childhood. They'd garnish my wages, and I'd never be able to help Mom with her treatments. My phone buzzed again. Unknown number. I almost didn't answer, but something made me pick up. "Ms. Olivia Chen?" A crisp, professional voice. "This is Marcus Sterling's assistant. Mr. Sterling would like to meet with you. Today. Four o'clock at the Sterling Tower, penthouse suite." I almost laughed. "I think you have the wrong number. I don't know any Marcus Sterling." "Your father, James Chen, worked for Sterling Industries before his... departure. Mr. Sterling has a proposition that might interest you. I'll text you the address." The line went dead before I could protest. Three hours later, I stood in front of a glass skyscraper that touched the clouds, feeling like a fraud in my thrift-store blazer. The lobby was all marble and chrome, and the security guard eyed me with suspicion until I mentioned Marcus Sterling's name. The elevator ride to the penthouse felt like ascending to another world. When the doors opened, I stepped into a space that screamed money—floor-to-ceiling windows, minimalist furniture that probably cost more than my entire life savings, and a view of the city that made my head spin. "Ms. Chen." The voice came from behind me, deep and commanding. I turned, and my breath caught. Marcus Sterling was... beautiful. That was the only word for it. Tall, with dark hair that looked like he'd run his fingers through it one too many times, and eyes the color of storm clouds. He wore a suit that fit him like it was made for his body, and he moved with the confidence of someone who'd never had to worry about money. But there was something in his eyes—a hardness, a distance. Like he'd built walls around himself so high, no one could ever get in. "Mr. Sterling." I tried to sound professional, but my voice came out shaky. "Your assistant said you wanted to meet?" He gestured to a sleek white couch. "Sit." I sat. He didn't. Instead, he stood by the window, his back to me, and I had the strange feeling he was avoiding looking at me directly. "I know about your father's debt," he said, his voice flat. "I know about your mother's medical condition. I know you're drowning, Ms. Chen." My cheeks burned. "How—" "I make it my business to know things." He finally turned, and those storm-gray eyes pinned me in place. "I have a proposition. A business arrangement." "Arrangement?" "A marriage. A contract marriage, to be specific." I stared at him. "You're insane." "Am I?" He moved closer, and I had to crane my neck to look up at him. "You need $250,000. I need a wife. Not a real one—a temporary one. Someone who can play the part for public appearances, business functions, social events. Someone who will sign an NDA and disappear after one year with no questions asked." My heart hammered against my ribs. "Why me?" "Because you're desperate. Because you'll do it. Because you have nothing to lose." His words were brutal, but not cruel. Just... factual. "And because you're exactly the type of woman my family expects me to marry—educated, presentable, with enough class to pass in their circles." I wanted to be offended, but he wasn't wrong. I was desperate. I did have nothing to lose. "What's in it for you?" I asked. "Why do you need a fake wife?" Something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe. Or anger. "That's not your concern. What is your concern is this: I'll pay off your father's debt. I'll cover your mother's medical expenses. I'll give you a monthly allowance of $10,000. And at the end of one year, you'll walk away with an additional $500,000. No strings attached." Half a million dollars. Enough to start over. Enough to give Mom the care she deserved. Enough to never worry about money again. "And what do I have to do?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Marry me. Live in my house. Attend events with me. Act like you're in love with me when we're in public. And when we're alone..." He paused, and for a moment, I thought I saw something vulnerable in his expression. "When we're alone, you leave me alone." The words hit harder than they should have. Like he was already pushing me away before I'd even agreed. "I need to think about it," I said, standing on legs that felt like jelly. "You have twenty-four hours." He handed me a folder. "The contract. Read it. Sign it. Or don't. But if you don't, Ms. Chen, I'll find someone else. And you'll lose everything." I took the folder, my fingers brushing against his. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm, and I saw his eyes widen slightly. He felt it too. But then his expression shuttered again, and he turned away. "My assistant will show you out." I left the penthouse in a daze, the contract burning a hole in my bag. In the elevator, I pulled it out and scanned the terms. Everything he'd said was there, in cold legal language. One year. Half a million dollars. No emotional attachment. No real relationship. Just a transaction. But as I stepped out into the city, my phone buzzing with another call from the hospital, I already knew my answer. I was going to marry Marcus Sterling. And I was going to regret it.