The Marriage I Never Wanted

The letter sat on the kitchen table like a landmine nobody wanted to step on. Laura Morgan had read it four times, and it still said the same thing: FINAL NOTICE. Outstanding balance: $340,000. Property to be seized in 14 days. "There has to be another option," she said, though she already knew there wasn't. Her father's hospital bills had eaten through every account they had, every asset, every favor anyone owed them. The bakery — the one thing her mother had left them — was fourteen days from being gone too. Her phone buzzed. An unknown number. Come to Allen Tower. Top floor. Tonight. If you want your father's debt handled, don't be late. — J. Allen Laura's stomach dropped. Jason Allen. Everyone in the city knew the name — cold, ruthless, the kind of rich that didn't just buy companies, it buried them. She had no idea how he even knew who she was, let alone what she owed. She had fourteen days and no other options. She went. The office at the top of Allen Tower was all glass and silence, the city glittering below like it belonged to him. Jason Allen didn't stand when she walked in. He didn't smile either. "Ms. Morgan. Sit." "You know my name. I don't know why I'm here." Laura stayed standing. "Your father owes several people a great deal of money. One of them is me." He said it the way other men discussed weather. "I bought the debt this morning." Her blood went cold. "Why would you—" "Because I need a wife, and you need three hundred and forty thousand dollars to disappear by Friday." He finally looked up at her, and there was nothing warm in it. "I'm offering you both." For a long moment, Laura couldn't speak. "You're insane." "I'm efficient. My board wants to see stability before they approve the merger that will make this company worth another two billion dollars. A single, controversial billionaire doesn't project stability. A married one does." He slid a folder across the desk. "One year. You play the part in public. In private, we stay out of each other's way. At the end of the year, the marriage dissolves, your father's debt is gone, and you walk away with enough money to make sure it never happens again." Laura stared at the folder like it might bite her. "And if I say no?" "Then I own your father's debt, and I collect it." He said it without malice, which was somehow worse. "Your choice, Ms. Morgan. I don't need an answer tonight. I need one by tomorrow morning." She should have walked out. Every instinct told her to. Instead, she opened the folder. The first page was a single clause, circled in red ink: Under no circumstances shall either party develop romantic feelings for the other. Violation voids all terms of this agreement. Laura almost laughed. As if that would be the hard part. She had no idea how wrong she was.