The Billionaire's One-Year Wife

Episode One: Forty Eight Hours “You have forty eight hours to pay the debt, or the house is gone.” Amelia Carter stared at the man sitting across from her. For several seconds, she couldn't breathe. The lawyer pushed a document across the small desk. “Forty-eight hours,” he repeated calmly. “That is the final deadline.” Amelia looked down at the paper. Her mother's house. The only home she had ever known. The home where her father had taught her how to ride a bicycle in the backyard. The home where her mother had spent twenty-five years planting roses along the fence. Gone. All because of a debt Amelia had never known existed. “There must be a mistake,” she whispered. “There isn't.” “But my mother has been paying the mortgage for years.” “The mortgage isn't the problem.” The lawyer opened another file. “Your father took out a business loan before his death. The company failed. The remaining debt was secured against the house.” Amelia's fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. “My father died five years ago.” “I know.” “And nobody ever told us?” The lawyer gave her an uncomfortable look. “Your father left instructions that the debt shouldn't be discussed with your mother until absolutely necessary.” A bitter laugh escaped Amelia's lips. “Absolutely necessary?” She stared at him. “You're telling me losing our home is absolutely necessary?” The lawyer didn't answer. Outside the office window, rain covered the city in a gray curtain. Amelia felt as though the whole world had suddenly become unfamiliar. Her mother was waiting for her at home. She had promised her that everything would be fine. That promise had been a lie. “How much?” The lawyer named the amount. Amelia's heart dropped. It was more money than she could make in ten lifetime. “I don't have that kind of money.” “I understand.” “Then what am I supposed to do?” The lawyer closed the file. “I was asked to give you one more option.” Amelia frowned. “One more option?” “Yes.” He removed a black envelope from his briefcase and placed it in front of her. There was no name on it. Only a silver symbol stamped across the front. Amelia looked at him. “What's this?” “A proposal.” “From who?” The lawyer stood. “Mr. Damien Blackwood.” The name meant something. Everyone in the city knew Damien Blackwood. Thirty-one years old. Billionaire. CEO. Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable. His company appeared in newspapers almost every week. His face was on business magazines, financial reports, and gossip websites. Amelia had seen photographs of him before. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Eyes that always looked as though they could see through a person. She had never met him. She certainly couldn't imagine why he would know her. “Why would Damien Blackwood send me a proposal?” The lawyer gave her a strange look. “That's something you'll have to ask him.” He left the room. Amelia remained sitting there. The black envelope seemed to stare back at her. Finally, she opened it. Inside was a single sheet of paper. MARRIAGE AGREEMENT Her eyes widened. She read the first sentence. Then the second. Then she read it again. A marriage. One year. In exchange for enough money to clear her family's entire debt. Amelia's hands began to shake. At the bottom of the page was a signature. Damien Blackwood. “No,” she whispered. This had to be a joke. She turned the page. Three conditions were written underneath. 1. The marriage will last exactly one year. 2. Neither party will expect love from the other. 3. The agreement must remain private. Amelia's chest tightened. Who did Damien Blackwood think she was? A woman he could simply buy? She stood so quickly that her chair nearly fell over. “I am not doing this.” The office door opened. A man walked in. Amelia froze. He was taller than she expected. Dark hair. Black suit. Broad shoulders. And those eyes. Cold, steady, impossible to read. Damien Blackwood. He closed the door behind him. “You should read the entire agreement before rejecting it.” Amelia swallowed. “I already know enough.” “Do you?” He walked toward the desk. “The house will be yours tomorrow if you sign.” She stared at him. “You're offering me millions of dollars just to marry you?” “Yes.” “Why?” He stopped directly in front of her. “Because I need a wife.” “There are millions of women who would marry you.” “I don't want millions of women.” His gaze settled on her. “I want you.” Amelia's heart skipped. She hated that it did. “You don't even know me.” For the first time, something changed in Damien's expression. It was almost a smile. Almost. “You're wrong.” Amelia's stomach twisted. “What does that mean?” Damien placed another photograph on the desk. She looked down. It was a photograph of her father. Standing beside Damien's father. Taken twenty-six years ago. Amelia's blood ran cold. She looked back at Damien. “How do you know my father?” Damien's eyes became darker. “That's the part of the story you're not going to like.” He picked up the photograph. “Your father owed my family much more than money.” Amelia couldn't speak. Damien leaned closer. “And marrying me isn't really a choice, Amelia.” Her heart pounded. “Because in forty-eight hours,” he said quietly, “I can either save your family... or destroy everything your father left behind.” He turned toward the door. Amelia stared after him. “Wait.” Damien stopped. She forced the words out. “What happens if I say yes?” He looked back at her. “Then tomorrow, Amelia Carter…” His gaze dropped to the marriage agreement. “…you become my wife.” The door closed. Amelia stood alone in the silent room. She looked at the contract. Then at her father's photograph. Forty-eight hours. One impossible decision. And one terrifying question she couldn't stop asking herself: What had her fathered done to the Blackwood family?