His Wife for One Year

The hospital bill says $247,000. I read it three times. The numbers don't change. My hands shake so badly I have to grip the edge of the nurse's counter to stop myself from falling. "Miss Evans?" The nurse looks at me with pity. I hate that look. "Your sister's surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning, but we need the deposit by noon or—" "I understand." I don't understand. I don't have two hundred and forty-seven dollars, let alone two hundred and forty-seven thousand. I barely have enough gas money to drive back to my apartment. My sister Lily is twenty years old. She has a heart condition she's been hiding for three months because she didn't want me to worry. She's the only family I have left. Our parents died in a car accident when I was seventeen and she was twelve. I raised her. I worked two jobs to put her through college. I promised her I'd always take care of her. And now I can't even pay for her surgery. I walk out of the hospital into the rain. My phone buzzes. It's Daniel. Daniel Whitmore. My fiancé. The man I've been engaged to for two years. The man who swore he'd take care of me and Lily forever. "Hey." I answer, trying to keep my voice steady. "Amber." His voice is cold. Different from the warm, sweet voice that told me he loved me just last week. "We need to talk." "I'm at the hospital. Lily's condition—" "I know. That's actually why I'm calling." A pause. "I've been thinking, and I don't think this relationship is working anymore." The world stops. "What?" "You heard me. I'm calling off the engagement." "Daniel, what are you talking about? I—" "I met someone else. Someone more... compatible with my life. My parents agree it's for the best." His parents. Of course. The Whitmore family has never liked me. I'm a nobody. A girl with no last name worth mentioning, no money, no connections. Daniel was supposed to be the exception. He was supposed to love me for who I am, not where I come from. "Daniel, you can't do this. Not now. Not when Lily—" "I already did. I'm sending your ring back tomorrow. And Amber? Don't call me again." The line goes dead. I stand in the rain, soaking wet, holding a phone with a dead screen. Two hundred and forty-seven thousand dollars. No fiancé. No help. No one. I drive home in a blur. My apartment is small — two bedrooms, peeling wallpaper, a kitchen sink that leaks. But it's home. Or it was, until tonight. I push open the door and collapse on the couch. Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to cry. Crying won't save Lily. Crying won't pay the bill. My phone buzzes again. A text from an unknown number. Miss Evans. I understand your sister needs medical help. I'd like to offer you a business proposal. Come to the Meridian Hotel, Suite 1201, tomorrow at 8 PM. — D.K. I stare at the message. Who is D.K.? How do they know about Lily? My gut says this is a scam. Or worse. But what choice do I have? ──────────────────────────────────────── The next day, I drop Lily off at the hospital at seven in the morning. She's pale, but she smiles when she sees me. "You look terrible," she says. "Thanks. You should see the other guy." "Amber." Her voice gets serious. "You don't have to do this. We can figure something else out." "There's no something else. I'll handle it." I kiss her forehead and walk out before she can see my face c***k. At 7:45 PM, I'm standing outside the Meridian Hotel. It's one of those places where the doorman wears a suit worth more than my car. I smooth down my cheap black dress — the nicest thing I own — and walk in. The elevator takes me to the twelfth floor. Suite 1201. I raise my hand to knock, but the door opens before I can. And I freeze. The man standing in front of me is... not what I expected. He's tall — six-two at least — with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and eyes so dark they look black. He's wearing a tailored charcoal suit that fits like it was painted on his body. There's a scar on his jaw, thin and barely visible, but it only makes him more dangerous-looking. He's beautiful. And terrifying. "Miss Evans." His voice is low. "You came." "You didn't leave me many options." He studies me for a long moment. Then he steps aside. "Come in." The suite is enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city skyline. There's a glass table with papers on it, a bottle of whiskey, and two chairs. I don't sit. "Who are you?" I ask. "Dominic Kane. CEO of Kane Industries." The name hits me like a freight train. Kane Industries. I've seen the name on buildings, on magazine covers, on news headlines. Dominic Kane is one of the richest men in the country. He's also famously single, ruthless in business, and has never been seen with the same woman twice. "Why would someone like you want anything to do with me?" He picks up a glass of whiskey and takes a slow sip. "I need a wife." I blink. "Excuse me?" "I said I need a wife. For exactly one year. In exchange, I will pay for your sister's full medical treatment. Every dollar. No expense spared." I stare at him. "That's insane." "What's insane is you standing there pretending you have another option." He's right. And I hate him for it. "Why me?" I ask. "Because you're desperate. Desperate people don't ask too many questions. And because—" He hesitates. Something flickers behind his eyes. Something I can't read. "You're the right fit." "For what?" "For my board of directors. They won't approve my acquisition of a rival company unless I demonstrate... stability. A wife provides that." "So this is a fake marriage." "It's a contract. Twelve months. You live in my home, attend events as my wife, and in return, your sister gets the best doctors in the country. After the year is up, we divorce quietly. You walk away with enough money to start over." He slides a folder across the table. I open it. The numbers make me dizzy. Medical coverage. A personal allowance. A divorce settlement that would set me up for life. But there's something else in the folder. A photo. A grainy surveillance photo from six weeks ago, showing me walking out of this same hotel. I'm wearing a different dress. My hair is messy. I look... out of it. "What is this?" I whisper. "You were here six weeks ago. You don't remember, do you?" My stomach drops. I was at a work party six weeks ago. I only had one glass of wine. But after that... everything goes blank. I woke up the next morning in my apartment with no memory of how I got home. "What happened to me?" Dominic sets his glass down. "That's something we need to discuss. But first—" His eyes lock onto mine. "Do you accept my proposal?" The hospital bill. Lily. The empty ring finger. The blank memory. "Yes," I say. "I accept." He nods. "Good. Because there's one more thing you need to know." He pauses. "You may already be pregnant." The floor drops out from under me. "What?" "That night. You and I—" He stops. His jaw tightens. "I didn't plan for any of this. But you need to take a test. Tonight." I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't— "You're lying." "I wish I were." He pulls out a small box. A pregnancy test. He sets it on the table between us like it's just another document to sign. I pick it up with shaking hands. I look at him — this stranger, this stranger who might have already changed my life forever — and I walk toward the bathroom. Behind me, his voice is quiet. Almost gentle. "Don't worry, Miss Evans. Whatever the result is... I'll take care of you." I close the bathroom door. My reflection stares back at me — terrified, shaking, alone. I unwrap the test. Two lines. Positive.