THE BILLIONAIRE'S CONTRACT WIFE.

The rain pelted down on the cracked sidewalks of Manhattan, soaking through Ava Monroe's thin coat as she dashed out of the café with two coffees balanced in her trembling hands. Rent was late, her brother’s medical bills were piling up, and her manager had just cut her hours. She wasn’t looking when she collided with a man in an expensive charcoal suit. Coffee exploded over his pristine white shirt. Ava gasped. “I—I’m so sorry!” she stammered, reaching for a napkin. The man’s eyes—cold, steely gray—locked on her. He didn’t shout. He didn’t flinch. He just looked. “Do you always assault strangers, or am I the lucky one?” His voice was smooth, laced with sarcasm. “I’ll pay for dry-cleaning,” Ava blurted. “I just—please, I’m running late—” “Don’t bother.” He waved off her apology but didn’t walk away. Instead, he studied her the way a predator studies prey. Something in her disheveled appearance, her desperate eyes, sparked an idea in his mind. “Wait,” he said. “What’s your name?” “Ava. Ava Monroe “Damien Blackwood.” He extended a business card. The name clicked—he was that Damien Blackwood. Billionaire CEO. Tabloid royalty. “Why are you giving me this?” she asked, confused. He smirked. “Because, Miss Cole, I have an unusual proposition for you. One that could solve all your problems.” Her heart pounded. What kind of proposition? “Marry me.” Ava blinked, sure she misheard. “Excuse me?” “Not out of love. Not out of passion. Strictly business. A one-year marriage. You get paid enough to erase your debts and pay for… whatever crisis you’re hiding behind those eyes.” Her breath caught. He couldn’t possibly know about her brother’s surgery… could he? “And in return?” she whispered. “In return,” Damien said with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “you help me secure my inheritance and make my family believe I’m capable of commitment. No strings attached.” No strings. No love. No future. Ava should have said no. She should have walked away. Instead, she found herself gripping his business card like it was a lifeline. Ava Monroe had always been a dreamer, but dreams didn’t pay bills, and certainly not the crushing medical expenses for her brother’s treatment. The scent of stale coffee lingered in the tiny apartment kitchen as she stared at the pile of overdue notices spread across the table. Her fingertips trembled as she held the latest one—an ultimatum from the hospital. Her heart ached with guilt. She had promised Ethan he would get better, but promises meant nothing without money. That was when the call came. “Miss Monroe,” the clipped, professional voice said on the other end of the line. “Mr. Damien Blackwood requests your presence tomorrow morning at his office. Ten sharp. He says it’s… regarding a proposal.” Her chest tightened. Damien Blackwood. The name itself carried weight. Billionaire heir. Ruthless CEO. The man whose company’s empire shaped half the skyline of New York. She had only met him once, briefly, when she had worked on an event showcasing her designs. His gaze had been sharp, almost dissecting, as though he saw straight through her. What business could he possibly have with her now? The next morning, Ava walked into the towering glass headquarters of Blackwood Enterprises, her thrift-store heels clicking against the pristine marble. She felt painfully out of place among polished executives and assistants dressed in designer suits. Yet she lifted her chin, refusing to show weakness. When she finally entered Damien Blackwood’s office, the sheer scale of the room took her breath away. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden sunlight, overlooking the city that glittered like a field of diamonds. And behind a sleek black desk sat Damien himself. He was more imposing than she remembered. Tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes as cold as stormy seas. His tailored suit seemed part of him, as much armor as clothing. His gaze flicked over her—sharp, assessing, unyielding. “Miss Monroe,” he said smoothly, his deep voice reverberating through the room. “I’ll be direct. I need a wife.” Ava’s breath caught. She had expected anything but that. Damien leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together with ruthless precision. “My board of directors requires stability. They don’t trust me to lead unless I appear… settled. You need financial security. I need an image. This is business, not romance.” His lips curved in a humorless smile. “In exchange, I’ll cover your brother’s medical bills. All of them. And you’ll live as my wife—on paper, in public, for one year.” Ava’s pulse thundered in her ears. His words were surreal, both terrifying and tempting. The offer dangled before her like salvation wrapped in chains. “Why me?” she managed to whisper. Damien’s gaze darkened, his eyes locking onto hers with unnerving intensity. “Because you don’t belong to my world, Ava. That makes you useful. Disposable.” Her chest tightened at the cruel word, but she held his stare, refusing to let him see her fear. “Think about it,” he continued, sliding a thick envelope across the desk. “The terms are inside. You have forty-eight hours.” Ava reached for the envelope, her fingers brushing against the expensive paper. The weight of it felt heavier than gold—heavier than her future. As she left his office, the city lights shimmered below, mocking her with their brilliance. She clutched the envelope to her chest, torn between dread and desperate hope. Two choices lay before her: sacrifice her freedom for a year, or watch her brother’s life slip away. And for the first time, Ava wondered if the devil wore Armani.