LOVE WAS NEVER THE DEAL

Marya The room smelled like rain, smoke, and money. It was the kind of scent that didn’t belong to one place, but to a place filled with powerful people. The room was cold, polished, expensive, and unforgiving. Marya felt uneasy the moment the elevator doors shut behind her, trapping her inside the big tower office, that quiet pressure in the air, like the space before something broke. “Dad?” Her voice sounded too small in the vast office. Thomas Lane sat across from a black glass desk, shoulders slumped, hands shaking as if his body had finally given up pretending everything was fine. The sight hit her harder than she expected. Her father had always been loud, stubborn, alive. This man looked… empty." “Marya, you shouldn’t be here,” he said, scrambling to his feet before sinking back into the chair. Thunder rolled outside. The man by the window turned. Her breath caught. He was tall, composed, devastatingly calm. A tailored blue suit hugged his frame like armour, and the silver eyes that settled on her didn’t warm or soften. They calculated. Like she was already part of a decision he’d made. “Who are you?” she asked, forcing her spine straight even as dread crept up her back. He stepped closer, unhurried, the faint scent of whiskey and smoke trailing him. “Jed Gilbert.” He extended his hand. She stared at it. Didn’t take it. “My father said this was a meeting with an investor.” His lips curved slightly. Not a smile. A warning. “Miscommunication.” Her pulse spiked. She turned to her father. “Dad?” Thomas swallowed hard. “He’s not an investor.” Something inside her chest went cold. “Then what is he?” “I’m the man your father owes fifteen million dollars to,” Jed said calmly. The number slammed into her. “Fifteen million?” Her voice cracked despite her effort to keep it steady. Her father dropped his head into his hands. “No,” she whispered. “That’s not possible.” “Debt doesn’t care what you believe,” Jed replied. “Only what you owe.” Anger flared, sharp and desperate. “Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with me.” Jed’s gaze sharpened. “You’re the only reason he’s still alive.” Her stomach twisted violently. He knew. About her. About everything. “You looked me up,” she said. “I look up risks,” he corrected. “And leverage.” She turned on her father. “You promised me this was just paperwork.” Tears filled Thomas’s eyes. “I was trying to protect you.” Jed moved behind the desk, opened a drawer, and removed a thick black folder. He slid it toward her with finality. “An alternative.” Her hands trembled as she opened it. The words blurred until one line burned into her vision. Binding marital agreement between Jed Gilbert and Marya Lane. Her heart slammed so hard it hurt. “This is disgusting,” she said, a broken laugh tearing out of her. “You can’t be serious.” “I never joke about contracts.” “You want to buy me?” she snapped. “Like property?” “No,” he said coolly. “I want to secure you.” Her chest tightened. “You’re insane.” “Insanity is expecting mercy in a world built on consequence.” She shook her head, backing away. “Why me?” “You’re clean. Untouched by my enemies. Convincing.” His eyes swept her with ruthless honesty. “And disposable.” The word cut deeper than she expected. “A wife,” he continued. “One year. Public appearances. Silence.” “And after?” she demanded. “Your father walks free.” Thomas looked at her, desperation etched into every line of his face. “Marya… please.” Her throat closed. This wasn’t a choice. It was a trap dressed as one. She turned back to Jed. “And if I refuse?” He leaned forward, palms on the desk, voice low and absolute. “Then I stop pretending this is business.” Her breath hitched. “You’d kill him.” “I’d collect.” Her hands shook. “You’re a monster.” Jed studied her for a long moment. “Monsters don’t survive this long.” Silence swallowed the room. “You have until tomorrow night,” he said. “One year of your life.” Her heart pounded wildly. “And the rules?” “No love. No questions. No escape.” Something in her snapped—not fear, but rage. “You think forcing someone into marriage makes you powerful?” His eyes darkened briefly, something old and dangerous flashing beneath the surface. “No,” he said softly. “Power is knowing you’ll choose the thing that destroys you.” Her breath stuttered. Slowly, deliberately, Marya reached down and grabbed the contract. Then she ripped it in half. Once. Twice. Again—until the pages are tored unevenly in her shaking hands. Paper scattered across the floor like wounded feathers. “This isn’t power,” she said hoarsely. “It’s desperation.” She dropped the torn pieces at his feet and turned. She fled. The elevator doors shut, sealing her inside as her reflection stared back—pale, shaking, and already changed. Behind her, Jed Gilbert watched the numbers descend. When the doors closed, he bent, gathered the torn pieces of the contract she’d left behind, and dropped them into the fire. Flames consumed the paper. Tomorrow, she would come back. They always did.