A Billion Stars Are Not Worth You

The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the presidential suite, blurring the glittering skyline of New York City into a smear of neon lights. Inside, the air was cold, conditioned to a perfect, sterile chill. Elara Vance stood before the massive mahogany desk, her knuckles white as she gripped her handbag. She felt small, insignificant, despite the elegant silk dress she had borrowed for this meeting. "You know why you are here, Miss Vance?" The voice was deep, baritone, and utterly devoid of warmth. Julian Thorne didn't even look up from the documents he was signing. His pen moved with swift, aggressive strokes, scratching against the expensive paper like a predator marking its territory. "I... I received your message," Elara stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "You said you could help my sister. That you would pay for the surgery." Julian finally stopped writing. He placed the pen down slowly and leaned back in his leather chair. His eyes, the color of a stormy ocean, locked onto hers. They were piercing, terrifyingly intelligent, and completely indifferent. "I don't do charity, Elara," Julian said, standing up. He was tall, looming over six feet, his presence filling the room. He walked around the desk, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. "I make investments." He stopped inches away from her. Elara could smell the scent of sandalwood and expensive scotch on him. It was intoxicating and dangerous. "My grandfather is dying," Julian stated flatly. "His last wish is to see me happily married to a 'woman of good standing' before he passes. He hates my current... lifestyle. He hates that I am alone." Elara blinked, confused. "What does this have to do with me?" Julian reached out, his long fingers tilting her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His skin was cool against hers. "You are the granddaughter of the late Senator Vance. Your family name is respectable, even if your family's fortune is gone. You are the perfect prop." He pulled a single sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. "A contract," he explained. "You marry me for one year. You play the role of the doting wife in public. In private, we remain strangers. You get your sister's surgery, a monthly allowance, and a luxury apartment. In return, I get my inheritance and my grandfather's peace of mind." Elara looked at the paper. The numbers written on it were astronomical. It was enough to save her sister, Lily, and pay off all their debts. But the price was her freedom. "And after one year?" she asked, her heart pounding. Julian’s expression hardened. "We divorce. Amicably. You walk away rich, and I walk away free. Do we have a deal?" Elara looked into his cold, winter eyes. She knew she was making a deal with the devil, but she had no choice. Lily was running out of time. "Yes," she whispered. "We have a deal." Julian smirked, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Good. The wedding is tomorrow morning. Don't be late."