The Billionaire’s Forgotten Vows

Ava ~ “You want me to marry him?” My voice didn’t even sound like mine. Cold shock numbed my skin as I stood in my father’s office, the same office I used to run through as a kid while he worked late and let me draw on the back of his spreadsheets now a graveyard of broken dreams and unpaid bills. My mother set the folder down with the casual detachment of someone discussing menu options, not selling off their daughter for corporate survival. “This isn’t a request, Ava. It’s our only chance." “I’m not marrying some cold-blooded billionaire just because you and Dad mismanaged the company into the ground.” Her face tightened like I’d slapped her. “Watch your tone.” “I’ve watched a lot in this house. Watched you manipulate people. Watched you lie for attention at fundraisers. Watched Dad get sicker while you pretended we could still afford a full staff and unlimited champagne. But this..” I held up the contract. “This is a new low.” She took a slow sip of tea like I hadn’t said a word. “Jaxon Reed has agreed to the terms. He wipes the debt. In exchange, you play the part of his wife for one year. You do this, Sinclair Holdings survives. Your father’s name remains intact. This decision saves everything.” I laughed, sharp and bitter. “And what if I don’t?” “Then watch your father die broke. And watch reporters camp outside the hospital for what’s left of his dignity.” My throat tightened. “I didn’t create any of this mess,” I whispered. “But you were born into this family. That makes it your responsibility, too.” I hated how calm she sounded. How she said it like she hadn’t just handed me over like some human apology letter. “I don’t even know him.” “He doesn’t want you to. This isn’t about love, Ava. It’s about leverage. Appearances. Mergers don’t always happen on paper.” I stared at the folder. Legally binding. Disgustingly real. A marriage contract. “I won’t be intimate with him.” “The contract already excludes that.” She waved her hand. “He wants a clean image, not a real marriage. You won’t be sleeping in the same bed. Probably not even the same wing.” Cold washed over me like a tide. “How can you be okay with this?” I whispered. She stood, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from her designer blazer. “Because I know the game. You don’t have to believe in it. You just have to play it better than the others.” She walked out, leaving perfume and pressure in the air. And I was alone. With a stack of pages that might as well have been shackles. — 24 hours later — Reed Tower I wasn’t sure what I expected. Maybe some big, dramatic office with velvet drapes and mahogany bookshelves. Not this. Not a sky-high glass box with marble floors and priceless artwork. Not him, standing by the window like he owned the clouds. Jaxon Reed didn’t turn when I entered. He just spoke. “You’re late.” His voice was smooth steel. Rich, deep, and cold. “I didn’t realize this was a negotiation,” I said tightly. “You already bought me.” He finally turned. Six foot four of tailored suit and sharp muscle. Messy raven-black hair, storm-gray eyes, and a jaw that looked like it could cut glass. “No,” he replied. “I bought your silence. Your obedience. Your name.” “For a year.” He walked toward the desk, ignoring my bitterness. “The terms are simple. Public appearances together when needed. Interviews arranged in advance. No real affection required. Separate rooms. No legal claim to my assets. At the end of twelve months, we annul and go our separate ways.” “That what you said to your last girlfriend before you ghosted her in Paris?” His eyes darkened. “You Googled me.” I lifted a brow as I stepped forward. “I’m about to marry you. Figured I should at least know your favorite color.” “The color of money.” Of course it was. He slid a black leather folder across the desk. “The contract has already been reviewed by both legal teams. All you have to do is sign.” The folder felt heavier than it should have. I flipped to the first page. I saw my name Ava Sinclair typed neat and lifeless next to his. “Why me?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “Because you’re clean,” he answered simply. “No cheating scandals. No paparazzi exes. Your father’s company still holds influence, and the Sinclair name has just enough value left to look good on my board reports.” “You make it sound like I’m a brand.” “We all are.” I closed the folder. “Do I at least get a ring before you drag me to the altar?” He pulled one out of a drawer. Platinum. Large diamond. Flawless cut. Cold, like everything else in this office. “This belonged to my mother.” I looked up sharply. “You’re giving me a family heirloom for a fake marriage?” “I’m giving the public what they expect.” “So I’m a prop?” He exhaled slowly. “You’re a solution, Ava. One I didn’t ask for, but I intend to use.” I should’ve walked out. Every fiber in my body screamed at me to run. But my father’s face—the pale skin, the weak smile, the way he’d held my hand during his last chemo session stopped me. He wouldn’t survive the fallout. And neither would I. I picked up the pen. And I signed. “Good choice,” Jaxon said flatly. “Don’t thank me,” I muttered. “You’ve already paid.” — Later that evening, I returned to the Sinclair estate. My mother didn’t meet me at the door. Of course not. Her job was done. My father was half-asleep in his study chair. I kissed his cheek. He didn’t stir. I looked at him—this broken man who once stood so tall in business columns and whispered, “I did it, Daddy. I saved your company.” And sold myself in the process. ~ The next morning ~ The wedding was scheduled for 11:00 AM. A rushed civil ceremony, followed by a staged press event at the Reed family estate. I wore a designer white dress selected by someone from Jaxon’s team, slipped into Louboutins I didn’t own, and sat in the back of a black Bentley beside a man who didn’t speak once during the thirty-minute drive. The Justice of the Peace stood in front of us in the private garden. Photographers snapped every second. “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” she said matter-of-factly. Jaxon didn’t kiss me. Instead, he leaned close and whispered, cameras flashing behind us: “Smile, Ava. That’s what I paid for.” So I smiled. Even as I felt my entire soul sink beneath the weight of a contract I could never un-sign.