One Year, One Lie

Ava knew she was in trouble before she even opened the email. It wasn’t just the subject line. It was the way her chest tightened the moment her phone buzzed, as her body had already learned to expect bad news before her mind could catch up. Still, she stared at the screen longer than necessary. FINAL NOTICE. The words sat there, bold and unapologetic, like they didn’t care whether she was ready to read them or not. Ava exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down her face. Okay, she whispered to herself. Just open it. Her thumb hovered. Then tapped. The message loaded. She read the first line. Then the second. By the third, her stomach had already dropped. Thirty days. Thirty days to clear the outstanding balance. Thirty days before further action would be taken. Further action, she repeated under her breath, letting out a short, humorless laugh. That sounds nice. Very polite. Very… not terrifying at all. She read it again, slower this time, like maybe the words would rearrange themselves into something less final. They didn’t. They never did. Ava let her phone fall onto the bed beside her and leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. The fan above her creaked faintly as it turned slowly, unevenly, like it was just as tired as she was. Thirty days. It sounded like time. It wasn’t. Not really. Not when she had already run out of options weeks ago. Her gaze drifted around the room. Small. Bare. Familiar. Everything she owned was in here and even that felt temporary now like the walls were already preparing to let her go. I’ll figure it out, she said quietly. She didn’t believe it. But saying nothing felt worse. Her phone buzzed again. Ava didn’t move at first. Then it buzzed again. And again. She groaned, reaching over blindly and grabbing it. Please, not today, she muttered, glancing at the screen. Unknown number. Perfect. Exactly what she needed. She considered ignoring it. Really considered it. But something about the persistence made her pause. Most people gave up after one call. This one didn’t. With a small sigh, she answered. Hello? Miss Ava Lawson? The voice on the other end was calm. Smooth. The kind of voice that didn’t rush, didn’t stumble like it was used to being listened to. Ava sat up a little straighter without realizing it. Yes… who is this? You submitted an application three weeks ago, the voice continued. Administrative assistant position. Ava frowned slightly, trying to place it. Three weeks ago? She had submitted so many applications that she’d stopped keeping track. Okay… she said slowly. We’d like you to come in for an interview. She blinked. An interview? Yes. Today. Today? Her brows pulled together. That’s… a bit short notice. Is that a problem? The question wasn’t rude. But it wasn’t flexible either. Ava hesitated. Thirty days. No options. No safety net. No, she said quickly. No, it’s not a problem. Good. Cole Enterprises. One hour. Ava froze. …I’m sorry, where? “Cole Enterprises.” Her grip on the phone tightened. That didn’t make sense. At all. Cole Enterprises wasn’t just any company. It was *the* company, the kind people talked about like it existed in a different world entirely. I think there’s been a mistake, she said, sitting up fully now. I’m not qualified for…. There is no mistake. The voice cut in smoothly. You were selected. A pause. Personally. The word landed heavier than the rest. Ava’s heart skipped just once. Personally? she repeated. But the line had already gone dead. She stared at her phone. Then pulled it away slightly, like it might explain itself if she looked at it differently. It didn’t. Okay… she said slowly. That’s strange. Very strange. Too strange. She stood up, pacing once across the small room, then back again. Personally selected? By who? And why? None of it added up. Her eyes flicked back to the email still open on her screen. Thirty days. Strange or not… this was something. And right now, something was better than nothing. Cole Enterprises looked exactly how she imagined it would. Too big. Too clean. Too expensive. Ava stopped just outside the entrance, staring up at the building as it stretched into the sky like it had no intention of ever being ignored. Glass and steel reflected the afternoon light, sharp and unforgiving. People moved in and out with purpose, heels clicking, voices low, confidence effortless. Ava glanced down at herself. Simple outfit. Nothing impressive. Nothing embarrassing. Just not this. She shifted slightly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. You’re fine, she murmured under her breath. It’s just an interview. A very intimidating, completely unexpected, possibly mistaken interview. But still. An interview. She stepped inside. Cool air wrapped around her instantly, carrying that faint, expensive scent of polished surfaces and controlled environments. The lobby was quiet. Not silent, just contained. Like noise had rules here. Ava approached the front desk, suddenly very aware of how out of place she felt. Hi, she said, offering a small smile. I’m here for an interview. Ava Lawson. The receptionist didn’t respond immediately. She typed something. Paused. Then looked up. Really looked. Ava felt it. That brief moment of assessment. Then the woman reached for the phone. She’s here, she said. Ava’s stomach tightened. She. Not your interview. Not a candidate. Just… her. Top floor, the receptionist added, gesturing slightly. Private elevator. Of course. Ava nodded, trying not to overthink it as she walked toward the elevator. Each step felt louder than it should have. More noticeable. Like the building itself was aware she didn’t belong. The elevator doors slid open smoothly. She stepped inside. Pressed the button. And waited. The ride up felt longer than it should have. Too quiet. Too smooth. Too intentional. By the time the doors opened, Ava’s nerves had shifted into something sharper. Not fear. Not exactly. More like awareness. The hallway ahead was empty. At the end stood a single door. Closed. Waiting. Ava swallowed, stepping forward. Each step felt heavier now. Closer. Real. She stopped in front of the door and knocked. Come in. The voice was low. Controlled. Not loud, but it didn’t need to be. Ava pushed the door open. And stepped inside. Ethan Cole didn’t look up right away. He sat behind a large desk, sleeves rolled slightly, attention fixed on files in front of him. Working. Or pretending to. Ava closed the door behind her, unsure whether to speak or wait. She waited. A few seconds passed. Then more. Just long enough to feel intentional. Then, He looked up. And just like that, the room shifted. His gaze landed on her and stayed there. Not casually. Not briefly. Direct. Measuring. Ava felt it immediately, like she had just stepped into something she didn’t fully understand. You’re late, he said. Her brows lifted. I was told.. You hesitated at the door. Ava blinked. That counts as late? It counts as uncertainty. She let out a small breath, half disbelief, half irritation. Well, next time I’ll make sure to walk in with more confidence. A pause. Then, Something in his expression changed. Just slightly. Sit, he said. Ava walked forward and sat across from him, placing her bag neatly by her feet. Up close, he was Not what she expected. Or maybe exactly what she expected. Sharp features. Controlled posture. Eyes that didn’t miss anything. There was nothing relaxed about him. Not even a little. You need money, he said. No introduction. No small talk. Just, That. Ava stiffened. I came for an interview. And you’re drowning, he continued calmly. Thirty days before eviction. Outstanding debt. No viable recovery plan. Her chest tightened. How do you… I don’t ask questions I don’t already have answers to. Silence fell between them. Heavy. Uncomfortable. Real. Ava stared at him. Every instinct told her to stand up and leave. Immediately. But, Thirty days. She didn’t move. What do you want? She asked instead. Ethan didn’t hesitate. I want you to marry me. The words landed quietly. But they hit hard. Ava stared at him. Waiting. For a smile. A correction. Something. Nothing came. You’re serious, she said. Yes. That’s not funny. I’m not trying to be. Ava let out a breath, shaking her head slightly. This doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t need to. It does to me. Ethan leaned back slightly, studying her like this was part of the process. Think of it as a contract, he said. One year. Public marriage. Defined terms. Financial compensation. Ava’s heart was beating faster now. Not excitement. Not fear. Something in between. And after a year? It ends. Just like that. Clean. Simple. Controlled. Ava stared at him. This is insane. It’s practical. For you, maybe. For both of us. A pause. Then, Why me?” she asked. Ethan held her gaze. Longer this time. Because you fit. That’s not an answer. It’s enough of one. Ava leaned back slightly, crossing her arms. No, it’s not. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Ethan reached forward, sliding a document across the desk. Review it, he said. Then decide. Ava looked down at the paper. Then back at him. Then down again. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. And yet, It was happening. Right here. Right now. She swallowed. Slowly reached forward. And placed her hand on the contract. Thirty days. Or this. Ava exhaled softly. What exactly am I agreeing to? she asked. Ethan’s gaze didn’t leave hers. Everything you need, he said. A pause. Then, And more than you expect.