The offer
1600 Words
CHAPTER 1
"Get out."
My voice shook when I said it. I hated that. I wanted to sound strong, powerful, like I didn't care. But my voice betrayed me like it always did.
Damien didn't even look up from his phone. Of course he didn't. "Don't be dramatic, Sophia. Isabella is a business associate. Nothing more."
Isabella.
God, I was so sick of hearing that name.
"A business associate who calls you at 2 AM?" My hands gripped the dining chair so hard my knuckles turned white. "A business associate who you cancelled our anniversary dinner for? Do you think I'm stupid?"
He looked up then. Those cold gray eyes that used to make my heart race now just made me feel... empty.
"No, you're not stupid," he said, standing up and buttoning his jacket like we were in a business meeting. "You're just forgetting your place. You're my wife on paper, Sophia. That's all you've ever been. That's all you'll ever be."
It hurt. God, it hurt so much.
I don't know what made me say it. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I just couldn't take it anymore. Maybe I wanted him to fight for me, just once.
"I want a divorce."
I expected... I don't know what I expected. Shock? Anger? Something?
Instead, his face relaxed. He looked relieved.
"Finally," he said. "Something we agree on."
My legs almost gave out.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to say no. He was supposed to realize he loved me. He was supposed to...
"My lawyers will contact you tomorrow," Damien said, already walking toward the door. "You'll be compensated. The contract will be honored, plus extra for your... discretion."
"Damien, wait..."
"This marriage was always going to end, Sophia. We both knew that from the start." He stopped at the door but didn't turn around. "At least now we can both move on with our lives."
The door closed.
Just like that. Three years of marriage, and he walked out like it was nothing.
I stood there in the dining room, staring at the dinner I'd made. The candles had burned down to nothing. The wine sat there unopened. Our third anniversary dinner.
He forgot.
No, that's not true. He didn't forget. He just didn't care.
I was so stupid. So, so stupid.
Six months ago...
"Mrs. Martinez?"
I looked up from my mom's hospital bed. I'd been crying for hours. My eyes hurt. Everything hurt.
An old man in an expensive suit stood in the doorway. He had bodyguards. Actual bodyguards. Who even has bodyguards?
"Who are you?"
"Richard Cross." He walked in like he owned the place. I guess when you're that rich, you kind of own everything. "I have a proposition for you."
I looked at my mom. She was sleeping. The machines beeped. The doctor said six months. Maybe less. The treatment could save her but it cost three million dollars.
Three million.
I made thirty thousand a year working two jobs. I'd never see three million dollars in my entire life.
"I'm not interested," I said.
"I'm offering you three million dollars."
I stared at him. "What?"
"My grandson needs a wife. You need money. It's simple."
"Your grandson..." My brain was moving slow. I was so tired. "Cross. Like... Cross Empire?"
"Damien Cross," he said, sitting down like we were having tea or something. "I'm sure you've heard of him."
Everyone knew Damien Cross. Billionaire. CEO. On the cover of magazines with different supermodels every week.
"Why would he need to pay someone to marry him?"
"My late wife's will. He has to be married by his thirtieth birthday or he loses his inheritance. That's in three weeks."
"So get him a real wife. Why me?"
Richard smiled, but it wasn't warm. "Because you don't want his money or his status. You just want to save your mother. That makes you perfect."
He slid a folder across the table.
"Three years. Play the role in public. Live separate lives in private. Your mother's treatment is fully paid for. You get three million dollars when it's over."
I opened the folder. Words jumped out at me. "Marriage of convenience." "No romantic expectations." "Separate residences."
This was insane. This was actually insane.
"What if he falls in love with someone else?" I asked.
"Then he divorces you and you still get paid."
I looked at my mom. At the machines keeping her alive. The doctor said two weeks to decide. After that, it would be too late.
"I need to think."
"Twenty-four hours. After that, I find someone else."
He left.
I sat there for a long time, listening to the machines beep. Thinking about how I'd worked two jobs since I was sixteen. How I'd dropped out of college when mom got sick. How I'd done everything, everything right, and it still wasn't enough.
The card he left said: Sometimes the best choice is the one that saves the people we love.
The next day...
I said yes.
God help me, I said yes.
Now I was standing outside this massive building, wearing my only good dress, about to meet the man I was going to marry.
A man I'd never even spoken to.
The elevator went up and up and up. My stomach dropped with every floor. Everything was glass and metal and expensive. I didn't belong here.
"Mr. Cross will see you now."
The office was huge. Like, bigger than my whole apartment huge. Windows everywhere. Art on the walls that probably cost more than my life.
And there he was.
Damien Cross.
He was... wow. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. And those eyes. Gray and cold and looking right through me.
"Sophia Martinez." His voice was deep. Bored. "Sit."
Not "please sit." Just sit. Like I was a dog.
I sat.
He looked at me the way you'd look at a chair you were thinking about buying. "My grandfather explained the arrangement?"
"Yes."
"Good. This is purely business. You play my wife in public. In private, we stay out of each other's way. No expectations. No obligations."
"Okay."
"You'll have your own wing in my penthouse. We'll go to events together. I'll give you money for clothes and whatever else. You act like a good wife in public and disappear when we're alone."
Every word hurt. This was real. I was really doing this.
"Questions?" He was already opening his laptop again.
"What do I call you?"
He looked at me like that was the stupidest question ever. "Mr. Cross in public. I don't care what you call me in private as long as I don't have to hear it."
Wow. Okay.
"Wedding is Friday. City hall. Wear something nice. Your mother's treatment starts Monday."
"Friday? That's three days away."
"I turn thirty in two weeks. We don't have time for a big wedding." He stood up. Meeting over, I guess. "My assistant will send details. Don't be late."
I stood up. My legs were shaking.
This man was going to be my husband. This cold, mean man who looked at me like I was nothing.
But mom would live.
That's all that mattered.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He didn't even look up. "Don't thank me. Thank my grandfather."
I walked to the door.
"Miss Martinez?"
I turned.
"Don't fall in love with me. This only works if we both remember it's business. Nothing more."
I should have listened to that warning.
But I looked at him, at those cold eyes, and something stupid in my chest whispered: Maybe I can change him. Maybe I can make him love me.
Three years later, I'd remember this moment and hate myself for being so naive.
You can't make someone love you.
Love is a choice.
And Damien Cross chose everyone but me.
Now...
I sat down at the table, my expensive dress feeling like a costume. My hand went to my stomach.
I was pregnant.
His baby. Growing inside me.
From six weeks ago. When he came home drunk and sad and human for once. When he reached for me in the dark and I let him because I was desperate for any piece of him.
One night that felt like everything.
One night that meant nothing to him.
I couldn't tell him. Not now. Not when he wanted to divorce me for her.
Isabella Chen. His first love. The one who broke his heart five years ago. She was back now, divorced and available, and suddenly Damien was different.
Sneaking phone calls. Working late. Coming home smelling like her perfume.
And I was the i***t wife waiting at home, hoping he'd notice me.
My phone buzzed.
Richard Cross: I heard about the divorce. I'm so sorry, dear. The money is yours. Build a beautiful life.
At least someone in that family had a heart.
I walked through the penthouse slowly. This place was never really home. Just a pretty prison.
Tomorrow the lawyers would call.
Tomorrow I'd sign papers.
Tomorrow I'd stop being Mrs. Cross.
But tonight...
Tonight I'd let myself be sad about losing a man who was never really mine.
A man who never loved me.
A man who never even tried.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, where his baby grew.
"It's just us now," I whispered. "Just you and me."
And I made a promise right then.
I'd leave. I'd disappear. I'd raise this baby far away from Damien Cross and his cold heart.
He wanted to be free?
Fine.
I'd set him free.
And I'd finally set myself free too.
- Writer
