Married to a cold CEO

The city glittered like a thousand diamonds under the fading afternoon sun. Skyscrapers towered above the streets, their glass facades catching the light in golden shards. Emily Hart stood on the sidewalk, her chest tight as she tilted her head back to take in the towering figure of Knight Enterprises. The building itself looked like something out of another world—sharp, gleaming, and untouchable. Thirty floors of wealth, power, and everything she didn’t belong to. The polished glass reflected her pale, anxious face back at her, and for a moment she thought about turning around. But then she thought of Sophie. Her little sister’s frail smile from the hospital bed flashed in her mind. Sophie’s thin hands clutching hers, her voice whispering, “Don’t worry, Emmy. I’ll be okay.” Emily swallowed hard. Sophie was only sixteen, and the medical bills were piling so high they threatened to bury them both alive. Running away wasn’t an option. Not anymore. Emily adjusted her faded blazer—the best she owned, though the fabric was worn at the elbows—and pushed open the massive glass doors. Immediately, she felt out of place. The lobby was vast, lined with marble so polished it reflected the silver heels of passing women in sleek pencil skirts. Men in tailored suits strode past with leather briefcases and an air of importance that made Emily shrink into herself. Behind the reception desk, two women whispered something to each other, then glanced her way. She caught the flicker of a smirk before they masked it with polite professionalism. Emily tugged her bag strap higher on her shoulder, her cheeks warming. You don’t belong here, a cruel voice whispered in her head. But she straightened her spine anyway and approached the desk. “Emily Hart,” she said, surprised her voice didn’t tremble. “I have an appointment with Mr. Knight.” One of the receptionists blinked, then checked the schedule. When her eyes flicked back up, there was curiosity in them now—mixed with disbelief. “Top floor,” she said finally, pressing a button on the panel beside her. “Mr. Knight is expecting you.” The elevator doors opened soundlessly. Emily stepped inside, her knees weak. As the doors closed, she let out a shaky breath. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirrored walls: a woman with weary eyes, dark circles from too many sleepless nights, and a determination that came from desperation more than courage. The elevator shot upward, her stomach dipping with every passing floor. When it finally chimed, the doors opened to a hushed corridor that seemed to breathe power itself. She walked slowly, her heels clicking against the marble, until she reached two enormous mahogany doors. Before she could knock, they opened. A tall man in a gray suit stood there, sharp-eyed and intimidating. “Miss Hart?” “Yes,” Emily said softly. “Mr. Knight will see you now.” The office was larger than the apartment she shared with Sophie. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the back wall, offering a view of the entire city bathed in gold. Expensive paintings lined the walls, and a massive oak desk dominated the center of the room. And behind that desk sat him. Alexander Knight. He looked younger than she expected—early thirties at most—but every inch of him radiated authority. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his jaw sharp, his suit tailored so precisely it seemed part of him. But it was his eyes that froze her in place. Cold. Calculating. Piercing into her as if stripping away her defenses. Emily forced her legs to move, each step feeling like she was walking into a lion’s den. “Miss Hart,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, though it carried no warmth. “Sit.” She sank into the leather chair opposite him, clutching her bag on her lap. He didn’t waste time. “I’ve read your file.” Her brows furrowed. “My… file?” “I like to know who I’m dealing with.” He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “You’re twenty-three. Parents deceased. Younger sister, Sophie, with… unfortunate health issues.” Emily’s breath caught. “You investigated me?” “Of course,” he said simply, as though it were obvious. “I don’t extend offers to strangers without knowing their worth.” Her heart pounded. “Offers?” Finally, his lips curved—not in a smile, but something sharper. Dangerous. “Yes. I have a proposition for you.” The room seemed to grow colder. Emily shifted uncomfortably. “What kind of proposition?” He folded his hands on the desk. “Marriage.” The word slammed into her like a thunderbolt. Her pulse roared in her ears. She almost laughed—it had to be a joke. But Alexander Knight wasn’t a man who joked. His expression was unreadable, his gaze steady. “You can’t be serious,” she whispered. “I don’t waste time on games, Miss Hart.” Emily shook her head. “Why me? I’m no one. I—I don’t even understand why—” “Because you’re exactly what I need.” His voice cut through hers, commanding. “You’re ordinary. You have no ties to wealth or power. And most importantly… you’re desperate.” The words stung because they were true. Her hands tightened around her bag strap. “This is insane,” she murmured. “Insane?” His eyes narrowed, his tone cool. “Or an opportunity?” He opened a folder on his desk, sliding a single sheet of paper toward her. Emily stared at it. It was a contract. A marriage contract. Her vision blurred for a moment, her breath catching as she tried to comprehend the words. “I need a wife for one year,” Alexander said calmly. “In exchange, I’ll ensure your sister receives the best medical care available. Every bill—paid. And you’ll never want for anything during the term of our agreement.” Her chest constricted. Sophie. Her mind screamed that this was wrong, dangerous. But her heart—her heart clung to the possibility. Alexander’s gaze never wavered. “All you have to do… is sign.” Emily stared at the contract, her fingers trembling. Her whole life teetered on the edge of that page.