Chapter 2: The Devil’s Offer
2625 Words
(Auroras POV)
The message sat on my phone like a live grenade.
“Aurora?” Gerald’s voice cut through the fog. “What is it?” He asked again
I looked at him, then at my father slumped in his chair, then at Dr. Morrison hovering by the door with that expression doctors wear when they know someone is about to make a life-altering decision.
“Nothing,” I lied, closing the phone. “Just another reporter.”
My hands shook.
Lucas Harrison of all people. The man whose company had circled Thompson Industries like a shark for three years, waiting for weakness. The billionaire CEO whose name made my father’s jaw tighten at every board meeting. Our fiercest competitor. And now, ….. Apparently, my potential savior.
I excused myself, mumbling about needing air, but halfway down the hall, my knees gave out. I pressed my forehead to the cool silk wallpaper.
This was insane. Lucas Harrison didn’t help people. He crushed them. Everyone in our industry knew the stories. Executives who underestimated him, companies who thought they could outmaneuver him—they all ended up broken.
So why was he offering to help me?
My phone buzzed again.
“Thompson estate, main gate. One hour. Come alone.”
Already here? Of course. He knew everything. That was what made him dangerous.
I should delete the message. Block the number. Call security.
Instead, I climbed the stairs to my room.
Forty-five minutes later, I walked down the long driveway in dark jeans and a simple black sweater. Wet hair pulled into a ponytail, no makeup. I looked exactly like I felt: exhausted, desperate, out of options.
The reporters had thinned out, chasing the next scandal. But their vans still lined the street. Cameras ready.
And there, parked directly in front of the gates, was a black Mercedes S-Class. Lucas Harrison leaned against it like he owned not just the car, but the street.
I froze.
Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair perfectly styled. A sharp jawline and high cheekbones. Handsome in that untouchable way that made you think of marble. But it was his eyes that stopped me. Dark, intense, fixed on me like he could see every secret I had.
He pushed off the car and walked toward the gate. Cameras clicked. Voices shouted questions.
“Mr. Harrison! What’s your connection to the Thompson family?”
“Is Harrison Enterprises involved in the fraud investigation?”
“Are you here to acquire Thompson Industries?”
He ignored them. His attention never left me.
I forced myself to keep walking. The wrought-iron gate felt like a flimsy barrier against him.
“Miss Thompson,” he said, voice deep, smooth. The kind of voice that could sign billion-dollar deals or manipulate someone into ruin. “Thank you for meeting me.”
“I didn’t have much choice,” I said, steadying my voice. “You ambushed me with cryptic messages and showed up at my house.”
“Your house… for now,” he replied softly. “Unless something changes.”
The casual cruelty hit like a slap. He was right. If things continued, the estate would be lost within months. Everything liquidated to pay legal fees.
“What do you want?”
“To talk privately.” His gaze flicked to the reporters, who were losing their minds. “Unless you’d prefer an audience?”
I looked at the cameras. Then at him. My instincts screamed: walk away. This man was dangerous. Whatever he wanted, it wasn’t simple or kind.
But my father flashed through my mind-gray, fragile, hands trembling. Years of life he didn’t have left.
I texted security. The gate opened.
“Five minutes,” I said. “That’s all you get.”
Something flickered across his face. Amusement, maybe.
The gate swung open. He stepped through, close enough I could smell cedar and something darker. Close enough I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
And that’s when it hit me.
I knew him. Somehow. From somewhere.
“Have we met before?” The words escaped before I could stop them.
“No,” he said. “We haven’t.”
It felt like a lie.
“The gardens,” I said, gesturing toward the side of the estate. “Away from the cameras.”
He nodded. We walked in silence. His footsteps confident, precise, unafraid. The reporters’ voices faded.
The Thompson estate gardens had been my mother’s pride: twelve acres of roses, fountains, hidden alcoves. I’d played here as a child. Now, it felt like a beautiful cage I was about to lose.
I led him to a small clearing, hedges surrounding a stone bench and a dormant fountain. Private and safe.
“Okay. We’re alone, start talking.”
He studied me, gaze memorizing every detail. It should have made me uncomfortable. It did—but there was something else. Something that made my pulse quicken.
“Your family is in trouble,” he said finally.
“Brilliant observation,” I snapped. “Did you come all this way to state the obvious?”
“You forgot the part where every partner is distancing themselves. Stock price dropped forty percent yesterday and Federal charges and Legal fees” I said bitterly
“But sure, you’ve got the highlights”
“I can fix all of it”
I laughed. Harsh, broken. “Really? You can make federal charges disappear? Restore my father’s health? Undo fifteen years of fraud?”
“Yes.”
The certainty in that word stopped me cold.
“I have the resources, connections, and legal team to clear your father’s name,” he said. “Settle the SEC investigation, restructure Thompson Industries’ debts, and restore your family’s stability. I can save them… all of them.”
Hope flared. Bright. Painful.
Then reality crashed back.
“Why?” I demanded. “You’re our competitor. This is your chance to destroy us. Why save us?”
“Because I don’t want Thompson Industries,” he said, stepping closer. “I want you.”
I stared.
“One year,” he said, voice calm, controlled. “One year as my wife. A legally binding marriage. Public appearances as Mrs. Lucas Harrison. In exchange, I clear your family’s debts, protect your father, and ensure the company survives.”
I opened and closed my mouth. Soundless.
“You’re insane,” I finally managed.
“I’m practical.” He pulled out a folder. “The contract is straightforward. One year and divorce quietly after. You walk away with your family’s future secured.”
I didn’t take it.
“This is insane,” I repeated. “Marriage contracts… like we’re in some kind of romance novel.”
“People do this all the time. Different name-Mergers, Acquisitions,Strategic partnerships. This is just a personal application.”
“It’s not the same thing!”
“Isn’t it? You have something I want. I have something you need. We make an exchange. Business, Aurora.”
I wanted to scream, cry, maybe both.
“Why marriage?” I demanded. “If you want to help, write a cheque. Make a deal with my father. Why involve me?”
“Because I need a wife,” he said simply. “And you need a miracle.”
I crossed my arms, trying to create a barrier. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Some reason you want me.”
For a moment, something cracked in him. Then the mask slammed back.
“My reasons are my own,” he said. “What matters is the offer. Take it or leave it. Decide quickly. Your father doesn’t have much time.”
The cruelty of using my father as leverage made me want to slap him. But he was right.
“I need to think about this.”
“You have twenty-four hours.” He placed the folder on the bench. “After that, the offer expires. You’re on your own.”
He walked away. Footsteps crisp on gravel. Leaving me with a folder that could save my family or destroy everything.
I picked it up. Shaking hands.
First page: simple, direct.
MARRIAGE CONTRACT
Between: Lucas Alexander Harrison and Aurora Marie Thompson
Duration: One year from signing.
I flipped pages: legal clauses, public appearances, living arrangements.
And buried on page seven:
Clause 17: Termination Penalties
If I breach the contract, all protections are revoked. Lucas Harrison acquires complete ownership of Thompson Industries, all assets, and the estate.
I sank onto the bench. Twenty-four hours to decide if I would sign away a year of my life to a man I didn’t trust. Twenty-four hours to figure out why his eyes seemed to know me.
Twenty-four hours to survive the devil’s offer.
- Writer
