Married To The Man Who Ruined Me

Chapter 6: The Proposal

Esther didn’t sleep.

She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows shift as the night wore on. The city never really got dark there was always some light bleeding through the curtains, some reminder that the world kept turning even when hers had stopped. Eighteen million dollars. Seventy-two hours. Now less than forty-eight, because she’d wasted an entire day going to Jordan’s tower and coming back with nothing but a promise to return.

A promise to return.

She still didn’t know why she’d agreed. Didn’t know why she’d let him touch her face, tuck her hair behind her ear, look at her like she was something worth seeing. She should have demanded answers. Should have forced him to name his price right there, in that glass tower where he thought he ruled the world.

But she hadn’t. She’d nodded like a fool and walked away.

And now it was morning.

Esther showered. Dressed. Chose her clothes with the same care she’d chosen her dress for the dinner armor, her mother would have said. Today she wore charcoal gray, severe and professional, a suit that said I mean business even though her hands were shaking when she did up the buttons.

Her father was already in the kitchen when she came down. He looked like he hadn’t slept either.

“Are you going back to him?”

“Yes.”

“Esther”

“I have to, Dad. There’s no other option.” She poured coffee she didn’t want, just to have something to do with her hands. “He says he can stop it. That’s more than anyone else has offered.”

Jason studied her across the kitchen island. “And what will he want in return?”

“I don’t know yet.” She set down the coffee, untouched. “But I’m about to find out.”

The drive to the Morretti estate took twenty minutes from her father’s office. She made it in fifteen, her foot heavy on the accelerator, her mind racing through possibilities. He’d want something. Men like Jordan Kingman didn’t do anything for nothing. Maybe a stake in the company. Maybe control of the board. Maybe…

She turned onto the long drive and saw the black car.

Already here. Already waiting.

Esther parked and walked toward the house, her heels sinking slightly into the gravel. The front door was open, her mother must have let him in, her mother who never let anyone in without calling first. Which meant Jordan had arrived before Esther left, had been sitting in her family’s home while she was still pouring coffee she didn’t want, had probably charmed her mother the way he charmed everyone.

She found them in the living room.

Her mother sat on the edge of the settee, hands folded in her lap, looking like she didn’t know what to do with herself. And Jordan stood by the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantel, examining the photographs arranged there. Photographs of Esther as a child. Esther at her first dance. Esther graduating from university.

He turned when she entered, and his eyes did that thing again—that slow sweep that felt like appreciation, like she was something he actually wanted to look at.

“Esther.” He said her name like they were old friends. Like he hadn’t destroyed everything her family had built. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“You’re in my house, Mr. Kingman. I didn’t have much choice.”

Her mother made a small sound of distress. “Esther, please. He came to help.”

“Did he?” Esther didn’t take her eyes off Jordan. “Mother, would you give us a moment?”

Her mother hesitated, looking between them. Then she nodded and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

They were alone.

Jordan waited until the door closed, then gestured to the sofa. “Sit down, Esther. This will take a few minutes.”

“I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself.” He reached into his jacket and produced an envelope. Not cream-colored this time. White. Official. Thick with pages. He held it out to her. “Read this. Then we’ll talk.”

Esther took the envelope. Opened it. Pulled out the pages and began to read.

The first word caught her breath.

MARRIAGE CONTRACT

She looked up at him. His face was calm, unreadable, waiting.

“The party of the first part, Jordan Alexander Kingman, and the party of the second part, Esther Rose Morretti, agree to enter into a marriage contract for a term of one year…”

The words blurred. She forced herself to focus, to read each line, to understand exactly what he was offering.

In exchange for her agreement to become his wife for one year, Jordan would:

· Pay the eighteen million dollar loan in full

· Clear all remaining debts of Morretti Industries

· Restore the Morretti name through a series of public appearances and business partnerships

· Provide a monthly allowance for personal expenses

· Ensure her father’s financial security for the remainder of his life

The terms went on. Legal language. Provisions for conduct during the marriage. Requirements for public appearances. A clause about fidelity that made her face burn. And at the end, the dissolution terms: after one year, she would walk away with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life, and Morretti Industries would be restored to its former position.

Esther read it twice. Three times. Then she looked up at Jordan, who hadn’t moved from his position by the fireplace.

“This is a joke.”

“It’s not a joke.”

“You want me to marry you.” She held up the contract. “For one year. In exchange for saving my father’s company.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Jordan was quiet for a moment. Then he moved away from the fireplace, closer to her, close enough that she could see the gray of his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw.

“I need a wife,” he said. “There’s a business partner, an older man, traditional, from a culture where family matters. He won’t deal with a man who isn’t settled. Won’t trust someone without a wife, without stability. The deal is worth more than eighteen million. Much more.”

“And I’m convenient.”

“You’re perfect.” The words landed hard. “You’re intelligent. Strong. From a good family, even if…” He stopped. Started again. “Your public slap proves you’re not after my money. No one would accuse you of being a gold-digger. And the way you handled yourself at the dinner…” Something flickered in his eyes. “You’re the only candidate who makes sense.”

Esther stared at him. “There must be a hundred women who’d marry you without a contract.”

“Women who want my money, yes. Women who want my name, my status, my connections.” He shook his head. “I need someone who wants nothing from me. Someone who’ll walk away at the end of the year and not look back. That’s you.”

“You want me to hate you.”

“I want you to be honest.” His voice dropped. “You’ll never pretend to love me. You’ll never pretend to want more than what’s in that contract. That’s exactly what I need.”

Esther looked down at the pages in her hands. Eighteen million dollars. Her father’s company. Her family’s name. Everything she’d been fighting for, everything she’d thought was lost, laid out in black and white with her name at the top.

All she had to do was marry the man who’d destroyed them.

“You said one year.”

“One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. After that, you’re free. The company is yours. The name is restored. And you never have to see me again.”

“And during that year?”

Jordan held her gaze. “You’ll live in my home. Attend events with me. Play the part of my wife in public. In private…” He hesitated. “In private, we’ll have separate rooms. Separate lives. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

The last words hung in the air between them. Unless you ask me to.

Esther’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it. “And if I refuse?”

“Then your father’s company dies in…” He checked his watch. “Thirty-seven hours. The bank will seize assets. Your family will lose everything. The name Morretti will become a cautionary tale told in business schools.” His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather. “I don’t want that, Esther. But the choice is yours.”

She wanted to hit him again. Wanted to throw the contract in his face and walk out and never look back. Wanted to scream at him for reducing her life, her family, everything she loved to a business transaction.

But she didn’t.

Because he was right. The choice was hers. And if she chose pride, her father would lose everything. Her mother would lose the home she’d lived in for forty years. Generations of Morretti history would be erased because one woman couldn’t swallow her rage long enough to save them.

“What about my father?”

“He’ll be told whatever you want him to be told. The marriage, the arrangement, the terms that’s between us. He’ll know you’re safe. He’ll know his company is safe. The details don’t matter.”

“The details always matter.”

Jordan’s mouth curved slightly. “Yes. They do.”

Esther looked at the contract again. One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days of living in his home, playing his wife, pretending to be something she wasn’t. And at the end, freedom. Restoration. Everything her father had lost.

“Is this revenge?” she asked quietly. “Is this about your father, and mine, and whatever happened between them that you won’t tell me about?”

Something shifted in Jordan’s eyes. Something almost like pain, there and gone so fast she almost missed it.

“This is about business,” he said. “Nothing more.”

She didn’t believe him. But she also didn’t have a choice.

“I need to think about it.”

“You have until tomorrow. The bank won’t wait longer than that.”

Esther folded the contract and tucked it into her bag. Walked to the door. Paused with her hand on the handle.

“If I do this,” she said without turning around, “if I marry you… I won’t pretend to be something I’m not. I won’t smile for your cameras and play happy wife and pretend that any of this is real. You’ll get your performance in public. But in private, you’ll get exactly what you asked for someone who wants nothing from you.”

Behind her, Jordan was quiet for a long moment.

“That’s all I want,” he said finally.

She opened the door and walked out without looking back.

Her father was waiting in the study. He must have seen her car, must have known she was back, because he was standing at the window when she walked in, his back to her, his shoulders tight with tension.

“Esther.”

“Dad.” She crossed the room and stood beside him, looking out at the garden where she’d been deadheading roses just days ago. It felt like another lifetime.

“What did he want?”

She reached into her bag and pulled out the contract. Handed it to him without a word.

Jason read. She watched his face change, confusion, then disbelief, then horror, then something she couldn’t name.

“No.” He thrust the papers back at her. “No, Esther. Absolutely not.”

“Dad”

“I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for…”

“It’s not a sacrifice.” She cut him off, her voice steadier than she felt. “It’s a business arrangement. One year. Then everything we lost comes back.”

“At what cost?” His voice cracked. “You’d marry that man? Live with him? Pretend to be his wife?”

“I’d do anything to save you. To save Mom. To save this family.” She took his hands, those trembling hands that had held hers a thousand times. “You spent your whole life building something for me. Let me do this for you.”

Jason’s eyes filled with tears. He pulled her into his arms, held her tight, the way he had when she was small and scared of thunderstorms.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered into her hair. “I can’t lose you to him.”

“You won’t.” She held him tighter. “One year, Dad. Then I’m home. And everything is going to be okay.”

She didn’t believe it. But she needed him to.

That night, alone in her room, Esther sat at her desk and read the contract again. Every word. Every clause. Every cold, precise term that would bind her to Jordan Kingman for three hundred and sixty-five days.

At the end, there was a space for her signature. And below it, his.

She picked up a pen. Held it over the page.

Thought about her father’s face. Her mother’s hands. The house she’d grown up in. The name that had meant something for four generations.

She signed.

Tomorrow, she would deliver it. Tomorrow, her life would change forever.

Tonight, she sat in the darkness and wondered if she’d just saved her family or sold her soul.