The billionaire's ledger

Chapter 8: The Contract and the Exit

The cafe was dim, smelling of roasted beans. Silas sat across from me, looking like he owned the building, the street, and maybe the whole city. He pushed a leather folder toward me.

"I need a wife," he said. No "hello," just a straight shot.

I actually laughed, a cold, dry sound. "You're insane. Go buy one of your models."

"I can't. My father is holding my grandmother’s estate hostage," he explained, his jaw tight. "The Lady Seraphina Collection. I need to be married for a year to a 'respectable' woman to claim it. The media loves a 'working-class girl' story. It looks real."

"So you want to use me as a prop?" I felt the heat rising in my chest.

"Five million dollars, Elena. Two million the day we sign. You can take your sister, Mia, and leave this life behind. No touching. No 'favors.' Just a signature."

I stared at him—at the smug way he assumed I had a price. He thought he could just dangle a check and I’d forget how he treated me at that party.

"You really don't get it, do you?" I stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You think everything is a transaction. You think because I’m struggling, I’ll just roll over for a check."

"Elena, be realistic—"

"No. Keep your five million, Silas. I’d rather scrub floors for the rest of my life than spend one second being your 'fake' anything."

I turned and stormed out of the cafe, my heart pounding. I didn't look back, even though I knew my bank account was at zero and the rent was due in three days. I had my dignity, even if I didn't have a dinner.