Chapter 2
734 Words
The kind of dangerous that didn’t shout or threaten openly, but lingered quietly in the air, waiting for the moment when everything could fall apart.
Khloe’s fingers rested on the edge of the folder. The thick paper inside suddenly felt heavier than it should have.
“This is insane,” she murmured.
Across the table, Adrian White didn’t react the way most people would. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t try to convince her it wasn’t strange. He simply stood there with the same calm, controlled expression he had worn since she entered his office.
“It’s practical,” he said.
Practical.
Khloe almost laughed at the word.
Pretending to marry a billionaire for six months was apparently practical now.
She closed the folder slowly, the soft sound of the paper sliding against itself filling the quiet office. For a moment she simply stared at the polished surface of the glass table, trying to gather her thoughts.
“Can I think about it?” she asked.
Adrian nodded once.
“Of course” he answered calmly
But when Khloe lifted her eyes and looked at him, something in his gaze made her uneasy.
There was no pressure in it.
Just certainty.
As if he already knew what her decision would be.
Because people with empty bank accounts rarely had the luxury of saying no.
By the time Khloe returned to her apartment, the sky had turned dark with rain clouds.
The hallway of the building smelled faintly of damp walls and old paint. The lights flickered as she walked past the narrow staircase toward her door.
This building had never been luxurious, but lately it felt even smaller, even more tired.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The apartment greeted her with silence.
A single small living space, a narrow kitchen corner, and a bedroom that barely fit a bed and a dresser. The ceiling fan hummed softly as it rotated above her.
Khloe dropped her bag on the couch and stood there for a moment, staring at nothing.
Then she pulled the folder from her bag.
The contract.
She placed it carefully on the small table beside the couch and sank down slowly, her body suddenly heavy with exhaustion.
The rain outside began to fall.
Soft at first.
Then harder.
Droplets tapped against the window like quiet fingers.
Her mind replayed the conversation in Adrian’s office over and over again.
Pretend to be his wife.
Six months.
A contract marriage.
The words sounded absurd every time she thought about them.
Her phone buzzed briefly on the table, interrupting her thoughts.
A message from the landlord.
Her stomach tightened even before she opened it.
“Miss Roswell, I knocked earlier but you were not home. This is the final reminder. If your rent is not paid by tomorrow morning, I will have no choice but to ask you to vacate the apartment.”
Khloe exhaled slowly.
Final reminder.
The words felt heavier than they should.
She leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes for a moment.
It hadn’t always been like this.
There had been a time when she had plans. Real plans.
Architecture school. Designing buildings. Creating things that would last.
But life had a strange way of rearranging dreams when you least expected it.
Her mother had gotten sick during Khloe’s second year in school. Hospital bills piled up quickly. Khloe had taken extra shifts, then eventually dropped out to work full-time.
Her mother passed away the following winter.
And after that, everything else slowly began to fall apart.
Khloe opened her eyes again and looked at the contract.
The folder sat quietly on the table as if it were just another ordinary document.
But it wasn’t ordinary.
Six months.
Pretend to be the wife of a man she barely knew.
Live in his mansion.
Attend events.
Smile for cameras.
Lie to everyone.
Her stomach twisted at the thought.
Khloe had never been good at lying.
She picked up the folder again and opened it.
The pages were filled with neat paragraphs outlining the arrangement in precise detail.
Residence at Adrian White’s private estate.
Participation in social and business events.
Public representation as his fiancée and later his wife.
Confidentiality clauses.
Privacy agreements.
And at the bottom of the final page
The payment.
Her breath caught every time she looked at the number.
It was enough to erase her debts.
- Writer
