The Billionaire's Fake Wife

No Way Out

By the time I got back to my tiny apartment, my head was spinning.

The papers shook in my hands. I’d read the treatment plan a dozen times, but all I saw was the number: $187,000.

It might as well have been a billion.

I dropped onto the couch, my chest heaving.

“No. I can’t do this,” I whispered to myself. “There has to be another way.”

I grabbed my phone, my fingers trembling as I searched for lawyers. Someone anyone who could tell me this “contract” Damian mentioned was a scam. That I didn’t have to sell myself to save my mom.

But every call ended the same.

No answer.

Voicemail.

Or worse an office that perked up the moment I said his name.

“Blackwood?” a receptionist repeated, her voice dropping. “Miss Daniels… I suggest you don’t get involved.” Then she hung up.

I stared at my phone, cold dread dripping through me. It was like he already owned the city.

By nightfall, I was pacing my apartment, chewing my lip until it bled. Midnight was hours away. My mother’s face kept flashing in my mind, weak and pale in her hospital bed.

I swore. “I’ll figure this out without him.”

A knock shattered the silence.

I froze. My heart slammed against my ribs. Slowly, I crept to the door and peered through the peephole.

My blood went cold.

Damian Blackwood stood there.

I stumbled back, panic rushing through me. How did he know where I lived? I hadn’t given him my address.

Another knock. Firm. Calm. Like he already knew I was on the other side.

“Amara,” his voice carried through the door, smooth and dark. “Open up.”

I clutched my phone, whispering, “Call 911, call 911…” But my fingers wouldn’t move.

The knock came again, sharper this time. “You have exactly three seconds before I let myself in.”

Fear gripped me. Against every instinct screaming to run, I unlocked the door.

The second it swung open, he stepped inside, filling the space with his presence. His cologne rich, dangerous wrapped around me like smoke.

“W-What are you doing here?” I stammered.

His eyes flicked over the messy living room, then back to me. “Making sure you don’t make the wrong choice.”

I swallowed. “You can’t just break into my life like this”

He caught my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up to his. His touch was firm, possessive, sending unwanted shivers down my spine.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low. “Your life stopped being yours the second you begged for help.”

Tears burned in my eyes. “I didn’t beg”

“You did.” His gaze seared into mine. “With those eyes, with your silence, with your desperation. And I answered. Now you’re mine.”

My chest rose and fell rapidly, my thoughts scattering. “You’re insane.”

He smirked. “Maybe. But I’m the only one who can save her.” He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Do you really want to gamble with your mother’s life just because you’re scared of me?”

A sob caught in my throat.

He pulled back just enough to study me, his thumb brushing my trembling lip. “Sign, Amara. Sign tonight. Or watch everything you love disappear.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. His eyes burned with possession. Mine burned with helplessness.

And in that suffocating silence, I realized something that terrified me more than his threats

Part of me wanted to give in.