CHAPTER THREE - The offer
1082 Words
The car moved smoothly through the city, silent except for the faint hum of the engine.
Elena sat stiffly in the back seat, her hands clenched in her lap. The streetlights outside blurred into streaks of gold and white, but none of it felt real. Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears, each beat a reminder that she was alone in a car with a stranger powerful enough to fire her with a single phone call.
She refused to cry.
She had cried enough for one lifetime.
Across from her, Greg sat relaxed, one arm resting casually on the seat, his attention seemingly on his phone. Yet Elena could feel his awareness like a weight in the air. He hadn’t looked at her since they left the restaurant, but she knew—she felt—that nothing about her escaped him.
“Where are you taking me?” she finally demanded.
His eyes lifted slowly, sharp and calm. “Somewhere private.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Her jaw tightened. “You can’t just kidnap people because you’re rich.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I can. But I didn’t.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Really? Because this doesn’t feel voluntary.”
“You could have walked away,” he replied coolly. “You didn’t.”
The words stung because they were true.
The car slowed and pulled into a guarded underground garage. Elena’s stomach dropped as sleek black doors closed behind them. Everything about the place screamed money—polished floors, silent elevators, men in suits who nodded respectfully as Greg passed.
They ascended in silence.
When the doors opened, Elena stepped into a penthouse so vast it felt unreal. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the city skyline glowing beneath the night sky. The furniture was modern and minimalistic, all sharp lines and dark tones—cold, controlled, just like the man standing beside her.
“Sit,” Greg said, gesturing toward a couch.
“I’d rather stand.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She stayed near the door, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “If you brought me here to humiliate me, congratulations. You’ve made your point.”
“That’s not why you’re here.”
“Then why am I?”
He turned to face her fully, his expression unreadable. “Because you interest me.”
Elena scoffed. “I insulted you.”
“Yes.”
“I rejected your money.”
“Yes.”
“I humiliated you.”
“That,” he corrected calmly, “is what makes you interesting.”
She stared at him, unsettled.
Before she could respond, her phone vibrated violently in her pocket.
Her heart skipped.
She pulled it out.
Unknown Number.
She answered with trembling fingers. “Hello?”
“Elena,” a familiar voice said. “This is Dr. Harris from St. Mary’s Hospital.”
Her breath caught.
“Yes—yes, I’m here.”
“We need to talk about your father. His condition has worsened.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What do you mean?”
“He needs surgery within forty-eight hours,” the doctor said gently. “We can’t delay anymore. Without it… I’m sorry.”
Elena’s knees weakened. She reached out blindly, gripping the back of a chair to stay upright.
“How much?” she whispered.
“The initial deposit is one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
The same number.
The universe was mocking her.
“I—I understand,” she said hoarsely. “Thank you.”
When the call ended, silence swallowed the room.
Her vision blurred. Tears slipped down her cheeks despite her effort to stop them. She turned away, ashamed of her weakness.
“I won’t beg,” she said brokenly. “If that’s what you’re waiting for.”
Greg hadn’t moved.
“I’m not,” he replied.
Slowly, he walked toward a glass table and placed a thin folder on it.
“This is a contract.”
Elena laughed weakly. “Of course it is.”
“I will pay for your father’s surgery,” he said. “All of it. Every bill. Every treatment.”
Her breath hitched.
“But not for free,” he continued.
She turned to face him, heart pounding. “What do you want?”
He met her gaze, unflinching.
“A wife.”
The word struck her like lightning.
“What?” she breathed.
“A legal marriage,” he clarified. “Temporary. Controlled. Mutually beneficial.”
She shook her head slowly. “You’re insane.”
“Perhaps,” he said calmly. “But I’m also serious.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I won’t sleep with you.”
He studied her quietly. “I didn’t say you had to.”
That stunned her more than the offer itself.
“I don’t do love.”
The words fell from his lips without hesitation, without warmth.
Cold.
Final.
She blinked once, then laughed softly—a broken, disbelieving sound. Not because she was hurt… but because she was relieved.
“That’s okay,” she said quietly. “I don’t need it.”
He turned to her slowly, eyes sharp and unreadable.
“This marriage will be nothing more than a contract. No affection. No promises. No emotions.”
Her fingers curled into her palm, memories of betrayal flashing through her mind—the lies, the abandonment, the love that had ruined her.
“Good,” she replied. “I’ve had enough of emotions.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and dangerous.
“You won’t expect anything from me,” he warned.
“I won’t,” she answered immediately.
For the first time, something flickered across his face—surprise.
Women usually hoped.
She didn’t.
He placed the contract on the table. “Once you sign, you become my wife. In name only.”
She stared at the paper, her heart pounding. Not with fear—but with the shock of how easy it was to agree.
Cold marriages were safer.
Love had already destroyed her once.
She picked up the pen.
Neither of them knew they had just signed a fate neither could escape.
Her hand hovered over the signature line.
Outside, thunder rolled across the city.
And Greg watched her as if the world had finally tilted in his favor
Comment:
Would you sign the contract to save your father… even if it meant marrying a stranger?
- Writer
