Love Behind the contract

Marisol had just signed the divorce papers. Suddenly my phone rang. “Marisol Reyes?” a man’s calm voice asked. “Yes.” “This is Attorney Graham. I represent Mr. Damien Ashford.” I frowned. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number.” “I assure you I don’t.” Before I could ask another question, the line went dead. I stared at my phone, then at the papers lying on the chipped wooden table in front of me. One disaster at a time, I wanted to scream. Instead, I folded the divorce papers with my trembling hands and slipped them back into the brown envelope. I hadn’t even become someone’s ex-wife yet, and another stranger was already looking for me. If only I knew that one phone call was about to destroy the little control I still had over my life. Three hours earlier… “I said," Sign it.” He yelled. Victor slammed the pen on the coffee table. His girlfriend, Chloe, leaned comfortably against the arm of the couch, sipping expensive wine from my favorite crystal glass. The glass my late mother had saved months to buy. “I don’t understand why you’re making this difficult,” Chloe said with a smile that never reached her eyes. “You already lost.” “Lost?” I shifted back a step, feeling my heart race with nervousness. I looked around the apartment. The homeowner had already changed ownership after Victor secretly transferred everything into his name months ago. My stomach twisted. “You forged my signature.” Victor didn’t even deny it. “I protected my investments.” “Our investments.” He laughed. “What investment?” His eyes swept over my faded sweater and worn sneakers. “You worked in a bakery.” “I built this place with you.” “No.” He shook his head. “You believed in me while I built it.” Those words hit harder than a slap. A whole five years. My eyes widened as I breathed heavily. Five years of waking up before dawn to bake bread. Five years of giving him every paycheck because he promised we were building our future together. Five years of skipping meals so he could finish business school. Five years of believing love meant sacrifice. Now he looked at me as if I had never mattered. Chloe stood and walked toward me. “You know what’s sad?” She tilted her head. “You actually thought he’d marry you because you loved him.” She laughed softly. “Men like Victor marry women like me.” My fingers tightened into fists. “I don’t care about his money,” I screamed, my voice breaking. Victor scoffed. “That’s convenient now.” “I care about you.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly why you’re pathetic.” The word landed like a knife. “Pathetic.” Maybe I was. I had ignored every warning. Every late night excuse. Every lipstick stain. Every unexplained business trip because I loved him. Love had made me blind. “Just sign.” Victor pushed the papers closer. “The sooner you disappear, the sooner everyone moves on.” As if my life could simply be erased. I picked up the pen. Not because I wanted to but because I had nothing left to fight. The moment my signature touched the paper, Chloe clapped her hands dramatically. “Finally.” Victor took the documents immediately. His relief was obvious. Not sadness. Not guilt. He felt relief, as if he had finally thrown away something he no longer needed. “Pack your things.” “I don’t have anywhere to go.” He shrugged. “Not my problem.” My throat tightened. “This used to be my home.” “It used to be.” His voice was cold. “It isn’t anymore.” An hour later, I walked out carrying one small suitcase. That was all I owned after five years together. One suitcase. Two changes of clothes. A framed picture of my mother and forty-three dollars in my wallet. The apartment door closed behind me. No one stopped me. No one called my name. No one cared. Rain started falling heavily before I reached the bus stop. Perfect. I laughed because crying felt pointless now. My phone buzzed. Unknown Number. I answered immediately. “Hello?” “Marisol.” The voice belonged to Mrs. Alvarez, the owner of the bakery where I’d worked since I was nineteen. “I’ve been trying to reach you.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t come tomorrow.” I blinked. “What?” “I’m closing the bakery.” My expression hardened. Everything inside me froze. “What do you mean?” “We lost the building.” “But you’ve owned that bakery for twenty years.” “I couldn’t keep up with the rent.” The line was filled with awkward silence. Then she spoke again, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.” I couldn’t even answer because the bakery wasn’t just my job. It had been my family after my mother died. Mrs. Alvarez taught me everything. She celebrated my birthday. Saved leftovers for me. Scolded me when I skipped meals. Now that is gone too. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. The call ended.I slowly lowered the phone. No home. No fiancé. No job. The rain soaked through my clothes. People hurried past without noticing me. Maybe I had become invisible. A little boy tugged on his mother’s sleeve as they walked past. “Mommy, why is that lady crying?” His mother pulled him away quickly. “Don’t stare.” I wiped away my tears immediately. I hadn’t even realized the tears were falling. Across the city, Damien Ashford tossed another file on the conference table. “No.” The directors exchanged uneasy glances. “This is the seventh candidate,” one of them said. “And the seventh unsuitable choice.” Damien didn’t raise his voice. He never had to. His silence alone intimidated everyone in the room. “The board won’t approve the international merger.” “They’ll approve it when I say they will.” “They’re invoking your grandfather’s clause.” That finally earned their CEO’s attention. His icy blue eyes lifted. “What clause?” The oldest director cleared his throat. “The succession agreement.” Another folder slid across the table. Damien opened it. His jaw and teeth clenched and crushed into each other inside his cheeks. “‘The future CEO of Ashford International must be legally married before assuming permanent control of the company.’” He read every word, then looked up. “My grandfather has been dead for three years.” “His lawyers insist the clause remains valid.” “They’re threatening to suspend the merger.” Silence spread through the room. The merger was worth billions. Without it, competitors would attack. Shareholders would panic. Everything Damien had spent years building could crumble. “So.” He closed the file. “They’re trying to force me into marriage.” “Essentially.” A dangerous smile appeared on Damien’s face. “They picked the wrong man.” Back at the bus stop, my stomach growled painfully. I checked my wallet again. Forty-three dollars. Not enough for a hotel. Barely enough for food. My phone rang once more. I stared at the screen in disgust. The same unknown number. I almost ignored it. Instead, I answered. “Marisol Reyes?” “Yes.” “This is Attorney Graham. I represent Mr. Damien Ashford.” “I think you have the wrong person.” “I don’t.” “Why would someone like Damien Ashford need me?” There was a brief pause. Then he said something that made my heart stop. “My client would like to offer you a contract.” “A job?” “No.” His voice remained perfectly calm. “A marriage.” The world seemed to fall silent around me. I thought I had heard him wrong. Then he added five words that changed everything. “You’ll be paid ten million dollars.”