The Billionaire Contract

I stared at my phone like it had betrayed me. $5.50. That was all I had left in my account. Not enough for groceries, not enough for rent, and definitely not enough to cover next week’s tuition. Honestly, some days it felt like life was just one big joke — and I was the punchline. “Just survive today,” I muttered, tossing my phone on the bed. My mom’s voice from last night kept echoing in my head. “Ava, just manage for now. We’ll figure it out.” Yeah, “figure it out.” Like that made everything magically better. And then, out of nowhere, I got a text from an unknown number: “Meet me at Blackwood Towers at 4 PM. Bring yourself. – E.B.” I stared at it. Who even was E.B.? And why did my gut tell me this was serious? Not to mention… the money he was offering. It could cover rent, tuition, and still leave me breathing for once. I hesitated for maybe a second. Okay, maybe five. Then I replied. Fast forward thirty minutes and I was standing outside Blackwood Towers. That building was insane — huge glass walls, fancy cars, security everywhere. It screamed money, and not just money. Power. Control. The kind of world I had no business being in. Inside, the lobby was immaculate. Marble floors, polished walls, people walking around in suits like they owned the place. I felt out of place in my thrifted blouse and worn jeans. “Hi, I’m here to see… Ethan Blackwood,” I said to the receptionist, hoping I didn’t sound like a total mess. She didn’t blink. “Top floor. Elevator on the right.” My stomach flipped. He was expecting me. How? The elevator ride felt like it took forever. I stared at my reflection in the polished walls, straightening my messy hair and reminding myself to breathe. The doors opened, and there he was. Ethan Blackwood. Tall. Dark hair. Perfectly tailored suit. Handsome, intimidating, and honestly, a little terrifying. “You’re late,” he said. “I… I’m not. It’s 4:02,” I said, checking my watch nervously. “I don’t like waiting,” he said, calm but firm. Then he slid a thick folder across the desk to me. “Sit.” I hesitated. My heart was racing, but curiosity won. I opened the folder. Inside… a contract. Typed, official, serious. “You want me to… what exactly?” I asked, still trying to process it. “Be my girlfriend,” he said plainly. “For three months. Public appearances, social media photos, events… just pretend. That’s all. No feelings. No complications.” I blinked. “…Are you serious?” “Yes,” he said, eyes unreadable. “You take it, or you leave. Simple.” I laughed. Nervous, incredulous, a little crazy. “This… is insane. I’m insane for even considering it.” “Perhaps,” he said, standing and walking to the window. “Or perhaps it’s exactly what you need. And exactly what I need. You take it, or you walk out. Either way, I won’t chase you.” I looked back at the contract. The money… it could solve everything. Tuition, rent, bills — gone. I could breathe. My pride protested, but my desperation shouted louder. “Fine,” I said, finally. “I’ll do it.” Ethan didn’t smile. He didn’t flinch. Just calm. Controlled. But there was a flicker in his eyes — curiosity, maybe amusement. “Good,” he said, sliding the contract toward me again. “Then we begin.” And just like that, my life took a turn I couldn’t have predicted. A fake relationship, a billionaire, three months of rules… and maybe, just maybe, something more.