STRINGS ATTACHED
771 Words
Ayana sat on the edge of the velvet chaise in the master suite, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the gold embroidery on a throw pillow. The events of the evening still echoed in her mind Ethan’s warmth, the way he looked at her, the way her lie felt more real than any truth she’d ever known.
The door creaked slightly.
Ethan entered, already loosening his tie. “Long night.”
She nodded, watching as he walked to the minibar and poured himself a glass of something amber. “Do you always live like this? Fancy dinners, silent car rides, rich men with fake laughs?” in
He chuckled, sipping his drink. “Pretty much.”
She looked down. “Must be exhausting.”
“It is.” He walked over, handing her a glass of water instead. “You handled yourself like a pro tonight.”
Ayana took it with a quiet “thanks.”
Then silence again.
“Tomorrow we meet my lawyers,” Ethan said, walking to the window. “To finalize the marriage papers... make everything legal.”
Her heart skipped. “Legal? But I thought this was already”
“It is. But legally binding makes it harder for anyone to challenge it. My father’s will is... complicated. If we don’t look like a real couple on paper and in public, the board could challenge my inheritance.”
Ayana frowned. “So this is about money?”
He turned slowly. “It’s about survival. If I don’t protect my position, everything falls apart.”
She folded her arms. “And where do I fall in all that? Just part of your survival plan?”
Ethan walked closer, his tone softer. “You’re the one who stepped into that wreckage to pull me out. I never forgot that. This arrangement helps us both. I pay for your mom’s treatment. You get your salon school. We keep our lives separate once it’s over.”
Ayana swallowed hard. “Right.”
She knew that. She agreed to it. But why did it sting now?
That night, sleep didn’t come easily. She turned on her side, facing the empty half of the massive bed. Ethan had offered to sleep in the guest room, but she told him no it would look strange to the house staff. Appearances mattered now.
Her phone buzzed.
Text from: Mama 💕
“I’m feeling better today. The doctors say the new treatment is working. Thank you, Ayana. God bless you, my sweet girl.”
Ayana’s throat tightened. Her mother had no idea the price she was paying to keep her alive. And yet… she’d do it all again.
In the morning, Ayana was already dressed when Ethan appeared in the kitchen. He looked tired, his hair a little tousled, eyes still sleepy. Human. Vulnerable.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
“Barely.”
He made two cups of coffee and handed her one. “You okay?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Just nervous.”
They drank in silence until a knock came at the door.
“The lawyers,” Ethan said.
Two sharply dressed men entered, briefcases in hand, all business. Ayana signed papers pages and pages. Non-disclosures. Prenuptial agreements. Clauses that made her head spin.
“Clause 7C,” one lawyer pointed, “states that both parties must appear together at a minimum of two public events per month and reside under the same roof for the next twelve months.”
“Twelve?” Ayana gasped.
Ethan cleared his throat. “It’s necessary.”
She felt her hands tremble. A year of pretending. A year of looking like she belonged in a world that wasn’t hers.
When the men finally left, Ayana sat still, her signature now scattered across a stack of legal documents.
“You okay?” Ethan asked again.
“No,” she whispered honestly. “But I will be.”
Later that evening, she wandered into Ethan’s home office. The walls were lined with books and black-and-white photographs of people she didn’t know. On the desk sat a framed picture of a woman tall, blonde, eyes like winter.
“Your fiancée?” she asked, not turning around.
Ethan stiffened behind her. “Ex.”
“She still matters?”
“She matters to people who want to destroy me if they knew about us.”
Ayana turned, her eyes sharp. “So I’m your shield.”
“You’re more than that,” Ethan said quietly. “But yes… right now, you are.”
That night, she went to bed alone again.
This time, her heart wasn’t just racing.
It was aching.
- Writer
