Chapter 1 : Fired
1230 Words
---
“You’re fired, Ariana.”
The words hit like a slap. I blinked, certain I’d misheard.
“Excuse me?” I asked, forcing a polite smile as I stared at Mr. Kessler, the head of marketing and the man I’d worked under for the past three years. His office was cold, sterile, and smelled faintly of burnt coffee. Just like him.
He didn’t look up from the papers he was signing. “You heard me. HR will process your exit paperwork. Please return your ID badge and company laptop.”
“Wait—what? Why am I being fired? I’ve never had a warning, never been late, and last month I led the Lexington pitch that—”
“None of that matters now,” he interrupted curtly. “Your name is toxic. After what your father did—”
“I didn’t do anything,” I snapped, voice rising. “That was his crime, not mine.”
His eyes finally met mine. Cold. Sharp. Like I was already a ghost.
“You bear his name, Ariana. And in this business, public image matters more than performance.”
I couldn’t speak. My heart thundered in my chest. I felt the heat of humiliation crawl up my neck as the reality settled in.
I was out.
Because of my father.
Again.
Without another word, I stormed out of his office, ignoring the curious stares and whispered gossip that followed me through the hallway. I felt like my skin was on fire. I held my head high, but inside, I was screaming.
By the time I got to my desk, security was already waiting. A heavyset man in a navy uniform hovered by my chair, arms folded. I shoved what little I could into my bag—some pens, a framed photo of my mom, and my water bottle—and ignored the rest.
“Miss Wayne,” the guard said gently. “This way.”
I followed him out of the building like a criminal. My heels clicked on the polished marble floor as coworkers watched me walk the walk of shame. No one spoke. No one offered a hand or a kind word.
Once outside, I stood on the sidewalk, disoriented. Cars rushed past. The wind tugged at my coat. I looked up at the towering glass building I had once proudly entered every morning.
Now I was nothing. Unemployed. Broke. Alone.
And the day was just getting started.
---
By the time I got home, my apartment building had a red sticker on the front door.
"Property Seized – Foreclosure Notice."
I stared at it in disbelief. My stomach twisted. I hadn’t even had a chance to grab my clothes or check the mail. I called the landlord, desperate.
He didn’t answer.
I called my bank. All my accounts were frozen “pending investigation.”
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.
Instead, I walked. No destination, no plan. Just moving forward, one step at a time.
---
Hours later, I found myself sitting at a nearly empty café with nothing but a half-empty glass of water and an unpaid bill in front of me. My phone buzzed again and again—reporters, unknown numbers, probably looking for a juicy quote.
I blocked them all.
Just as I was considering how humiliating it would be to beg the waiter to let me wash dishes, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I recognized.
Isabella Reed.
My best friend from college. Now an assistant to some fancy CEO in Manhattan.
I answered quickly.
“Ari? Are you okay?” Her voice was rushed, worried. “I just saw the news—oh my God, are you okay?”
“I’ve had better days,” I said with a broken laugh.
“Where are you? Do you have a place to stay?”
“Not exactly.”
“Get to Blackwood Tower. Now.”
I frowned. “What?”
“I’m serious. Come here. I think I have a solution.”
---
Blackwood Tower was intimidating even by New York standards. Fifty-eight stories of pure power. Glossy, black glass. Private security. A fountain out front that probably cost more than my college tuition.
I felt like a fraud just walking in.
Isabella met me in the lobby and pulled me into a hug. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“I haven’t. What am I doing here?”
She gave me a cryptic smile. “You’re about to meet Damien Blackwood.”
My stomach dropped. “The Damien Blackwood? The tech billionaire? Your boss?”
She nodded. “He needs something. And I think you’re the perfect woman for the job.”
“What kind of job are we talking about?” I asked warily.
Her eyes sparkled. “Come upstairs and find out.”
---
The elevator ride to the top floor felt like climbing into another world. When the doors opened, I stepped into a space so luxurious it looked like a magazine spread—sleek marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, abstract art, and absolute silence.
Then I saw him.
Damien Blackwood stood by the window, his back to us, dressed in a charcoal suit that looked custom-made to fit his broad shoulders and lean frame. He turned slowly, and the moment our eyes met, I forgot how to breathe.
He was… beautiful.
Not in the soft, boyish way. In the sharp, commanding, dangerous way. Jet black hair, steel-gray eyes, jaw like it was carved from stone.
“Miss Wayne,” he said, his voice deep and calm. “Take a seat.”
I sat on the edge of a leather chair, trying not to squirm under his gaze.
“I’ve read about your situation,” he said, not unkindly. “I imagine it’s been… difficult.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I said stiffly.
“I have a proposal.”
I blinked. “A proposal?”
“A business arrangement. I need a fiancée. Someone believable. Smart. Presentable. Desperate enough to say yes.”
I froze. “Excuse me?”
“You’ll be paid generously. You’ll stay with me, attend events, wear my ring. For all intents and purposes, you’ll be mine.”
A cold rush went through me. “Why me?”
“Because you have nothing to lose,” he said bluntly. “And I need someone who won’t catch feelings.”
My heart pounded.
“And if I say no?”
“Then you walk away, and I find someone else. But I’m offering you financial security, a place to live, and a chance to rebuild. Say yes, and your problems vanish. Say no…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t have to.
The room was silent. I felt the weight of his gaze, the pressure of the choice hanging in the air.
Then he walked over, slowly, like a predator circling prey. He stopped in front of me, so close I could smell his cologne—something dark and expensive.
He leaned down, his voice a whisper only I could hear.
“One month. Just pretend. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I stared up at him, my heart thudding.
And that’s when he reached into his pocket—
—and pulled out a diamond ring.
- Writer
