SOLD HIS CONTRACT WIFE

Six days from now, the man I'm about to marry will put a gun to my chest. And call it justice. Tonight, I don't know that yet. I'm just an architect at my desk, fifteen stories up, fixing a mistake someone else made. It was late. The office was empty except for me. I had a red pen in my hand and the Meridian Tower blueprints spread out under the desk lamp. I found an error in the east wing load calculation. Three inches off. Small to anyone else. To me, it was the difference between a wall that lasts a hundred years and one that cracks in fifteen. I fixed it and sat back. For the first time in an hour, I looked up instead of down at the page. The city outside was still small. Just a dozen buildings, lights blurred by the rain. It wasn't what it would become. I already knew what it would become, because I'd designed most of it in my head years before the company had money to build any of it. The door opened. "Still here," Damian said. He had his tie loose and his jacket over one shoulder, still wet from the rain outside. He walked over and stood close enough that I could smell the coffee on him. "Someone has to catch your engineers' mistakes," I said. "My engineers don't make mistakes. I hire the best." "You hire people good enough that I only have to fix the small things." He laughed and leaned over to look at the blueprint. "What was wrong this time?" "East wing. Three inches off." "Three inches," he repeated, like he was thinking it over. "Ask me again in fifteen years if it mattered." He didn't say anything for a moment. Then his voice got softer. "Once we're married, your name goes on the door too. Voss and Kade Architecture." He'd clearly thought about saying that for a while. It came out too smooth to be new. He kissed my forehead, then my mouth. Quick. Sure of himself. "Six days," he said. "Then it's forever." For a second, his hand tightened on my shoulder. Just slightly. I almost asked him about it. Then he let go, grabbed his jacket, and was gone before I could. I told myself it was nothing. The call came at six the next morning. Emergency. Executive floor. Now. My hands were still cold from the drive when the elevator opened. The boardroom was packed. Six people. Two security guards by the door. A lawyer. Two board members, and neither of them would look at me. And Marcus. Standing at the head of the table like it already belonged to him. "Elena." Damian's voice. Flat. Like he didn't know me. "Sit down." I didn't. "Wire transfers under your credentials," Marcus said. He slid a folder across the table without being asked. "Login records from a breach three nights ago. The Meridian blueprints are sitting on a rival's server as of this morning." I looked through the pages. None of it made sense. Numbers I'd never seen. An account I didn't open. Timestamps that put me in the building during hours I'd actually been asleep next to the man now looking at me like I was already guilty. "This is fake," I said. "The records say otherwise," Marcus said. Gentle. Like he felt bad about it. "I didn't want to believe it either." Damian's jaw tightened. He looked at the board members, then the guards, and something in his face closed off. "Everyone out," he said. "Mr. Voss" one of the board members started. "This is personal before it's business. I'll fill the board in myself, once I understand what happened. I need the room right now." The lawyer gathered up the copies and followed the guards out. Marcus didn't move. "Not you," Damian said. "Someone should walk you through this while it's still fresh," Marcus said. "I'd rather you hear it from me directly." The door shut. It was just the three of us now. "Damian." My voice cracked. "Look at me. You know I didn't do this." "The designs are on a rival's server, Elena. Someone put them there." "Not me." "Then who?" I didn't have a name to give him. "There's a second transfer scheduled for tonight," Marcus said. Calm. Reasonable. "If she isn't stopped, everything goes with her." "Check the records," I said. "Anything. It'll clear me in an hour." "We don't have an hour," Marcus said. "She'll be gone by morning." "Damian, think. Records don't lie the way paper can." "Paper doesn't usually lie either." His voice was breaking now, right in front of me. "I don't want this to be real." "Then don't let it be. Just wait." "We don't have time to wait." Marcus put a hand on Damian's shoulder, like he was holding up a friend. "I know what this is costing you." Damian's hand moved toward his jacket. "Damian." I kept my voice steady. "You know me." His hand was shaking when he raised the gun. Mine wasn't, when I looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. And he meant it. That was the worst part. The shot was loud enough to split the room in half. I hit the floor fast. The ceiling went red at the edges. I heard Damian say my name, heard him drop down beside me. Then another sound, right after. Small. Quick. Another gun. "Marcus" Damian said, confused. Then nothing. The last thing I saw was Marcus standing over both of us, calm, no act left on his face. "You were never supposed to be the obstacle," he told Damian, almost like he felt bad about it. "You were supposed to be the empire." He crouched down close. "And you were never supposed to be smart enough to notice." He was smiling. That was the last thing I saw. Then heat. Then nothing at all. I woke up gasping, both hands on my chest, looking for a wound that wasn't there. No blood. No hole. Just my heart pounding, and underneath that, somehow, I could still feel where the bullet had gone in, even though it hadn't happened yet. My bedroom. The old one. I even noticed the water stain on the ceiling I'd forgotten was there. My phone buzzed. Dress fitting 2 PM. Venue walkthrough 4 PM. Wedding 6 Days. I checked the date twice before I believed it. Marcus hadn't been hired yet. The blueprints weren't even finished. None of it had happened. But it was going to. "Six days," I said out loud, to no one. "To make sure Marcus Vale never gets close enough to smile at me like that again." An hour later, I found the master files on my laptop the same folder that had made Damian rich and gotten me killed trying to protect it. My cursor sat on delete. Then I heard footsteps in the hallway. Not Damian's. Too light. Too careful. Six days too early for anyone else to be in my apartment at all.