Chapter1&2
1518 Words
Chapter One: The Spill
The universe must have been laughing at her.
Rain clung to Lina Evans like a second skin as she rushed through the heavy glass doors of Café Ciel, drenched and out of breath. Her shoes squished embarrassingly with each step. Hair matted to her forehead, blouse half-soaked and sticking to her chest, she looked like a walking disaster. But she was still on time.
Barely.
“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled as she tied on her apron, ignoring her manager’s glare. It was her third warning this month. One more, and she’d be out. And if she got fired… no rent, no food, and no chance of keeping her little brother, Noah, out of the system.
She didn’t have time to break. So, she didn’t.
The café buzzed with its usual early-morning chaos. Students, businessmen, and tourists filled the room. Lina grabbed her notepad and tray and made her way to table seven—an elegant corner booth usually reserved for VIP clients.
She stopped short.
A man sat there—alone, still, and so out of place in this world of clinking spoons and cheap espresso it made her throat go dry. He wore a sharp black suit that probably cost more than her yearly rent, paired with a silk tie and an expression colder than January. His eyes—gray, unreadable—lifted as she approached.
Lina swallowed. “Good morning, sir. What can I get you?”
His voice was quiet, deep. “Black coffee. No sugar.”
She scribbled it down, turned too fast, and—
Crash.
The tray slipped. The cup tilted. And boiling coffee poured straight onto the man’s crisp white shirt.
“Oh my God!” she gasped, reaching for napkins in a panic. “I am so, so—”
“Don’t.”
The word stopped her cold.
His hand caught her wrist, firm but not cruel. “No need to touch me. Just… don’t.”
She blinked up at him, heart pounding.
His shirt clung to his chest now, soaked through, yet he didn’t even flinch. No yelling. No threats. Just that calm, dangerous look that made her feel like she was standing on a frozen lake with a single c***k beneath her feet.
“I—I’ll get the manager,” she stammered.
“No need.” He released her wrist. “You’re new here?”
She shook her head. “Six months.”
He gave her a slow once-over. Not in a sleazy way—but as if he were assessing her like a puzzle he could solve in seconds. “Interesting.”
“What is?”
“You. You’re broke. Desperate. But proud enough to try and hold your world together.” He tilted his head. “How much would it cost to buy one year of your life?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“A hypothetical question,” he said, sipping what was left of his coffee. “If someone offered you enough money to never worry again—but asked for one year of your life in return. Would you take it?”
“That depends,” she said, straightening. “Would I be in jail… or a coffin?”
He almost smiled.
But didn’t.
“Neither. Just a… contract. A year of pretending. A year of silence. No love. No strings. Just a signature.”
Lina narrowed her eyes. “You’re joking.”
“I never joke.”
Before she could respond, he stood, dropped a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the table, and handed her a sleek black card.
His name was engraved in silver: Alexander Wolfe.
“I’ll be expecting your call.” His eyes lingered on her once more. “And Lina?”
She froze.
“How do you know my name?”
He smiled this time. Cold. Calculated. “I always research potential investments.”
⸻
Lina stared at the card long after he left.
A millionaire just offered to buy a year of her life.
And for some twisted reason… she wasn’t sure she could afford to say no.
Chapter 2: The Office on the 47th Floor
Lina stared at the black card for two straight days.
It sat on her nightstand like it had weight—more than plastic, more than silver-embossed lettering. It carried possibility. Or danger. She couldn’t tell which.
The offer had sounded insane. Sell a year of her life to a stranger? For what? Silence? Pretending? What exactly was he offering? What would he own?
But then came the phone call from child services. Noah had missed school again. They were re-evaluating custody. One more missed rent payment, and their caseworker warned she’d have “no choice.”
Her stomach dropped.
Choices. That was the cruelest part of being poor. You didn’t really have any.
So on a cloudy Thursday, she found herself standing in front of a mirrored skyscraper in Midtown, clutching a thin jacket around her. People in suits rushed past her, purpose in their stride. She stood out like a chipped mug in a crystal shop.
Inside, the building smelled like polished steel and silence. The receptionist—perfectly groomed and painfully polite—eyed her as if wondering if she were lost.
“I… I have a meeting. With Alexander Wolfe.”
The woman blinked. Then her tone changed immediately. “Mr. Wolfe is expecting you. 47th floor.”
Lina stepped into the elevator and pressed the silver button.
As it rose, her reflection in the mirrored walls stared back. Pale. Anxious. Determined. She adjusted her scarf and pulled her sleeves down to hide the tear near the wrist.
One year.
One deal.
One impossible choice.
When the elevator doors slid open, a hallway stretched ahead like something out of a movie—glass walls, modern art, and silence so sharp it felt like pressure in her ears.
A tall assistant opened a door for her.
“He’s inside.”
The office was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a view of the city below like a kingdom he ruled over. And there he was.
Alexander Wolfe.
Standing by the window, hands in his pockets, every inch the cold billionaire.
He didn’t turn to greet her. Just said, “You came.”
“I’m still deciding.”
“I knew you would come.” He turned, meeting her gaze. “You’re too smart to walk away from survival.”
Lina stepped inside cautiously. “Then maybe you should tell me exactly what I’d be surviving.”
He motioned to the chair opposite his desk.
She didn’t sit.
“I need a wife,” he said simply. “For twelve months.”
Lina blinked. “You need what?”
“A marriage. Public. Legal. But entirely… transactional. No intimacy, no affection, no obligation beyond what the contract outlines.”
“Why?” she asked.
He folded his arms, his jaw tightening slightly. “My grandfather’s estate comes with conditions. To inherit full control of Wolfe Enterprises, I must be married by my 35th birthday. That’s in six weeks.”
“There’s no one else?” she asked quietly.
“There were options. Models. Heiresses. But too many attachments. Too many demands. I don’t want someone who wants me. I want someone who wants the deal.”
“So, I’m the perfect poor girl for the role?”
“You’re smart, discreet, desperate, and invisible to the world I live in. You won’t draw attention. You won’t ask questions. And you’ll walk away richer than you ever dreamed.”
He opened a file on the desk and slid it toward her.
It was thick.
Marriage Contract Agreement – Lina Evans & Alexander Wolfe
“I’ll give you one million dollars,” he said. “Half up front. Half when the year ends.”
She opened the first page with trembling hands. Terms. Conditions. No s*x. No family interference. Appearances at events. Joint residence in his penthouse. Weekly photo ops.
And a confidentiality clause so airtight, she’d vanish if she ever spoke.
“This is…” Her voice broke. “This is insane.”
“No. This is business.”
She looked up at him. “Why me? Why really me?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Because you’re hungry for more. And because you looked at me like a person, not a paycheck.”
Silence stretched between them. A different kind of tension settled—less legal, more… personal.
“What if I say yes?”
He stepped closer. “Then I’ll expect you to move in within seventy-two hours. Wedding by next week. We make it believable. Appear together in public. Say as little as possible. Keep your head down.”
“And after the year?”
“You walk away. Rich. Free. Forgotten.”
Lina stared down at the contract.
A million dollars.
Her brother safe.
Her debt gone.
Her future… possible.
And yet, something in her whispered that if she said yes, her life would never go back to normal.
Not because of the money.
But because of the man standing in front of her.
- Writer
