Married to the cold billionaire

The rain lashed against the grand windows of the Blackwood estate, the sky outside bruised and broken. Eliana stood awkwardly in the center of the massive study, her hands trembling at her sides, clutching the worn folder that contained the last remnants of her father’s legacy. Across the room, behind a dark oak desk, sat Damon Blackwood. In a perfectly tailored black suit, he looked every bit the billionaire the media painted him to be — cold, ruthless, untouchable. His icy gaze bore into her, stripping her down until she felt naked despite the modest black dress she wore. “You understand the terms, Miss Carter,” Damon said, his voice low, commanding. “Marry me. Six months. Pretend to be my devoted wife in public. In return, I will settle your father’s debts and ensure your family’s name remains… untarnished.” The word “marry” hung in the air like a noose. Eliana swallowed hard. Every instinct in her screamed to run — to flee from the monster who was offering her salvation with one hand and shackling her with the other. “You’re serious,” she whispered, more to herself than him. Damon’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “I don’t have time for games, Miss Carter. My board of directors is pushing for a more ‘stable’ image. They believe marriage will soften my reputation. You need my money. I need your obedience.” Obedience. The word seared through her pride like a blade. Eliana clenched her fists, feeling the sharp bite of her nails against her palms. “You want a puppet,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. He leaned back in his chair, regarding her with cool detachment. “I want a wife who knows her role. Appearances are everything in my world. Behind closed doors, we can be as distant as you like.” Eliana’s heart hammered in her chest. She thought of her mother, her little brother — the house that would soon be taken away, the debts she couldn’t pay, the shame that would consume her family’s name. She had no choice. And Damon knew it. Lifting her chin, Eliana met his gaze head-on. “Fine,” she said, each word a bitter pill she forced herself to swallow. “I’ll marry you.” For a brief moment, something flickered in Damon’s eyes — surprise, maybe even regret — but it was gone so quickly she wondered if she imagined it. “Good,” he said, pushing a pristine folder toward her across the desk. “The contract. Read it carefully. We marry within the week.” Her fingers trembled as she picked it up. Pages and pages of legal jargon stared back at her, cold and impersonal. Clause after clause outlining her duties, restrictions, expectations. One line in particular caught her eye: ‘No emotional entanglement. Strictly business.’ Her throat tightened. She signed anyway. As she set the pen down, Damon stood and crossed the room toward her. He towered over her, his scent — expensive and dangerous — filling her senses. “You belong to me now, Eliana,” he murmured, the words not a threat, but a binding vow. And as she looked into his unreadable eyes, she realized: She wasn’t just marrying Damon Blackwood. She was selling her soul to him.