The Last Option
795 Words
Aria Cole stood beneath the weak shelter of a bus stop, her thin cardigan doing nothing to protect her from the cold that seeped deep into her bones. Her fingers trembled not from the weather, but from the paper clutched tightly in her hands boldly written, FINAL NOTICE.
The words blurred as tears gathered in her eyes.
She blinked them away angrily.
Crying wouldn’t fix anything. It never had.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She didn’t need to check to know who it was.
Still, she pulled it out.
Unknown Number.
For a second, she hesitated… then answered.
“Hello?”
“Miss Aria Cole?”
The voice was calm. Professional. Cold.
“Yes… who is this?”
“You’ve been requested for a meeting.”
Her brows furrowed. “Requested? By who?”
“Mr. Lucian Blackwood.”
The name hit her like a slap.
Everyone knew that name.
Billionaire. CEO. Ruthless.
Dangerous.
Her grip on the phone tightened. “I think you have the wrong person.”
“We don’t,” the voice cut in smoothly. “A car will be waiting for you in thirty minutes.”
“I didn’t agree to...”
“Be there.”
The line went dead.
Aria stared at her phone, her heart pounding.
This had to be some kind of mistake.
People like Lucian Blackwood didn’t call people like her.
They erased them.
Thirty minutes later… she still got into the car.
Because desperation had a way of silencing fear.
The building was worse than she imagined.
Glass. Steel. Power.
Everything about it screamed control.
Inside, the air felt too clean. Too quiet. Like even sound had to ask permission to exist.
“Miss Cole.”
Aria turned to see a sharply dressed woman approaching her.
“Follow me.”
No smile. No warmth.
Aria swallowed and followed.
They stopped in front of a large door.
The woman knocked once… then opened it.
“Sir. She’s here.”
Aria stepped inside.
And the world shifted.
He was sitting behind a large desk, his presence filling the entire room without effort.
Lucian Blackwood.
He didn’t look up immediately.
Instead, he finished signing a document, closed the file, and only then he slowly lifted his gaze.
Her breath caught.
His eyes were dark. Sharp. Calculating.
Like he could see through her.
“You’re late.”
Her brows snapped together. “I was brought here.”
“I don’t like excuses.”
Aria straightened slightly. “Then maybe you shouldn’t summon people without explanation.”
A faint smirk touched his lips.
Gone just as quickly.
“Sit.”
It wasn’t a request.
She hesitated… then sat.
Lucian leaned back in his chair, studying her.
Not like a person.
Like an investment.
“You’re in debt,” he said.
“How...”
“Your mother is ill. Hospital bills unpaid. Your job barely covers rent.” His gaze hardened. “You’re running out of time.”
Her hands curled into fists.
“Why do you know all this?”
“Because I make it my business to know things.”
Aria leaned forward slightly, anger flashing in her eyes. “Then you already know I don’t have time for games. Why am I here?”
Lucian was quiet for a moment.
Then...
“A marriage.”
The words landed like a bomb.
Aria blinked. “… Excuse me?”
“You’ll marry me.”
Her heart slammed against her chest. “Are you insane?”
“In return,” he continued smoothly, “I’ll pay all your debts. Fund your mother’s treatment. And ensure you never struggle financially again.”
Her breath caught.
For a moment… just a moment… she imagined it.
The relief, the freedom.
Then reality snapped back.
“And what do you get?” she asked slowly.
“Everything I want.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“This isn’t a real marriage,” he added. “It’s a contract. You play your role. I play mine.”
“And if I say no?”
That was when he leaned forward.
The air shifted.
Heavy. Dangerous.
“You won’t,” he said quietly.
Her pulse raced. “You don’t know me.”
“No,” he murmured. “But I know desperation.”
Silence fell.
Then he slid a document across the table.
A contract.
Aria stared at it.
Her future.
Her freedom.
Or her cage.
“Take it,” Lucian said.
Her hand trembled as she reached for it.
But before her fingers touched the paper
He spoke again.
“There’s one condition you need to understand.”
She looked up.
His cold gaze locked onto hers.
“Once you sign…”
He paused. Then continued
“You don’t get to walk away.”
- Writer
