HIS TEMPORARY WIFE

Chapter Two

Alexander's Pov

I watched Emma Chen's taillights disappear from the parking garage and allowed myself exactly thirty seconds of doubt before shutting it down completely.

This was business. Nothing more.

Marcus was waiting in my car, scrolling through his phone with the practiced indifference of someone who'd witnessed me make hundreds of ruthless decisions over the years. He looked up as I slid into the backseat.

"Well?"

"She'll agree." I loosened my tie, suddenly aware of how long this day had been. "She has no other choice."

"You sound certain for someone who just propositioned a stranger in a parking garage at midnight." Marcus pocketed his phone, studying me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. "What if she refuses?"

"Then I find someone else." But even as I said it, I knew that wasn't true. I'd spent three weeks investigating potential candidates, and Emma Chen was the only one who fit every requirement. Young enough to carry a healthy pregnancy, desperate enough to agree to the terms, and invisible enough that no one would question our sudden marriage.

Most importantly, she had something to lose. That made her controllable.

"Your parents are going to hate this," Marcus observed.

"My parents hate everything I do." I pulled out my laptop, already moving past this conversation. "Schedule a meeting with legal staff tomorrow morning. I want the contracts airtight before she signs."

Marcus was quiet for a moment, which meant he was about to say something I didn't want to hear. "Alexander, this woman is not a business acquisition. If this goes wrong….."

"It won't." I cut him off with the finality that ended most discussions between us. "Drive."

He did, but I felt his disapproval radiating from the front seat. Marcus had been my friend since college, back before Hale Industries became what it was, back when I still pretended to be capable of normal human relationships. He'd earned the right to question me, but that didn't mean I had to listen.

The penthouse was dark when I arrived home. I preferred it that way. Fewer shadows to hide from, fewer reminders that I lived in eight thousand square feet of space designed for a family I'd never have.

Until now.

I poured myself two fingers of scotch and stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Somewhere out there, Emma Chen was deciding whether to accept my offer. I'd seen the desperation in her eyes, the exhaustion carved into every line of her face. She'd spent the last three months watching her mother die by inches, working herself to the bone for a miracle she couldn't afford.

I was offering her that miracle. The fact that it came with strings attached was irrelevant.

My phone buzzed. A text from my mother: "Dinner tomorrow. 7 PM. Don't be late."

Not a request. Never a request with Victoria Hale.

I didn't respond.

Instead, I opened my laptop and reviewed Emma's file again. The private investigator I'd hired was thorough, too thorough, maybe. I knew that Emma had graduated top of her nursing class before dropping out to care for her mother. She volunteered at a youth center every other Sunday despite having no free time. That she hadn't been on a date in over a year, hadn't bought herself new clothes in longer than that, and ate most of her meals standing up in hospital break rooms.

She was selfless to the point of self-destruction. It would make her perfect for this arrangement.

The scotch burned going down, but it didn't ease the tightness in my chest. I'd been feeling it more lately, this strange pressure that appeared whenever I thought too hard about what came next. My father would call it weakness. He'd probably be right.

I was ten when Richard Hale sat me down and explained how the world really worked. "Emotion is a liability, Alexander. The moment you care about something, you've given someone else power over you. Never let anyone have that power."

He'd just returned from my mother's funeral, or what I thought was her funeral at the time. Years later, I'd learned she wasn't dead, just gone. She'd looked at her eight-year-old son and decided he wasn't worth staying for.

The lesson stuck.

My phone rang. Marcus, because of course it was.

"What?"

"Just checking if you're planning to brood all night or actually sleep."

"I don't brood."

"You absolutely brood. It's your primary hobby." I heard the smile in his voice, the attempt to lighten the mood I'd been drowning in since the parking garage. "Listen, I know you've made up your mind about this, but….."

"Marcus."

"but maybe consider that there are other options. Adoption, a different surrogate arrangement, even reconciling with your parents' timeline…."

"I have eighteen months before the board votes." I set down my glass harder than necessary. "Eighteen months to produce an heir or lose everything my grandfather built. Everything I've built. I'm not adopting, I'm not using an agency that could leak information, and I'm certainly not giving my parents more ammunition against me."

"So you're marrying a stranger and impregnating her with donor genetics instead."

"Yes."

Marcus sighed, long and heavy. "You know this is insane, right? Even for you."

"Noted. Anything else?"

"Get some sleep, Alexander. You're making life-altering decisions on four hours of rest and spite. It's not a good combination."

He hung up before I could respond.

I didn't sleep. Instead, I spent the next three hours drafting additions to the contract, ensuring every possible loophole was closed. Emma Chen would sign away two years of her life in exchange for financial security. She'd live in my home, carry my heir, and then disappear with enough money to start whatever life she wanted afterward.

Exactly how I needed it to be.

*********************

The next morning, I sat across from my parents at their dining table, the same table where I'd eaten silent meals as a child, learning to chew quietly and speak only when addressed. Victoria looked exactly the same as she had twenty years ago: perfectly styled, coldly beautiful, utterly untouchable.

"You're late," she said by way of greeting.

I was five minutes early, but I didn't argue. "You wanted to see me."

Richard set down his newspaper, giving me the assessing look he usually reserved for quarterly reports. "The board is getting anxious about succession. You've had two years to find a suitable wife, Alexander. Your time is running out."

"I'm aware of the timeline."

"Then perhaps you should start taking it seriously." Victoria's tone could freeze water. "Isabelle Laurent would make an excellent match. Her family's connections alone……"

"I'm not interested in Isabelle Laurent."

"Then who?" Richard's patience was already wearing thin. "You've rejected every suitable candidate we've presented. If you're not careful, the board will make this decision for you."

I met his eyes, seeing my own reflected back at me. Cold. Calculating. Incapable of anything resembling warmth.

"I'm getting married," I said. "The announcement will go out next week."

Victoria's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "To whom?"

"You'll meet her at the wedding."

"Absolutely not." She set down her fork with deliberate precision. "We will meet her before any announcement is made. We will vet her thoroughly. This family's reputation……"

"Is my concern now, not yours." I stood, straightening my suit jacket. "I've handled this. The board will have their heir within the year."

Richard's eyes narrowed. "What have you done, Alexander?"

"What you taught me to do. Whatever it takes to win."

I left before either of them could respond, their outrage following me out of the house I'd grown up in and never felt at home in.

Marcus called as my driver pulled away from the estate. "How bad?"

"They'll hate her."

"They hate everyone."

"Exactly." I watched the mansion disappear in the rearview mirror. "Which is why this will work."

Seventy-two hours. That's all I'd given Emma Chen to make a decision that would change both our lives. Part of me wondered if she'd actually show up, if desperation would override every instinct telling her to run.

But I'd seen her face in that parking garage. I'd seen a woman who would do anything, sacrifice anything, to save her mother.

I was counting on it.

My phone buzzed with an email notification. The subject line made everything inside me go still: "I need to discuss your proposal. When can we meet? - Emma Chen."

Forty-eight hours. She'd made it forty-eight hours before cracking.

I texted back immediately: "My office. Tomorrow morning. 9 AM."

Her response came seconds later: "I haven't agreed to anything yet."

"Then come tell me no in person, Miss Chen.”