The Billionaire's Contract

The Offer

Initially, even though he noticed her, he planned to just walk right past, but as he got closer to her, the way the light fell perfectly on her face, revealing the sharp line of her cheekbone and her messy hair being disturbed by the breeze, actually made him slow down. It was annoying to him how this distracted him for a bit; he found himself stopping because now he was curious to see her complete face.

Adrian was never a "romance" guy. He had never had to stop in his tracks for a stranger, as he always had women all over him. His attention was usually too busy and lost in his mind to notice anybody.

"You look like you're waiting for the view to respond to your thoughts," he said. It was a bit blunt, but it was what he could come up with on short notice.

She turned slowly, not looking at all bothered by his interruption. She had a calm look in her eyes, unveiling her face that he was curious to see, and just like he thought, her perfectly shaped face with her black hair falling on some part of her face.

"I’m actually just enjoying the view," she said simply. "It helps me calm my nerves and makes me feel so much better."

Adrian, hearing her speak, realizes she’s a local because of her accent.

She stands upright now, away from the pillar, and gives him a stern look, unimpressed by his expensive shoes. "American," she says.

Adrian felt a flash of mild irritation.

"Is the label supposed to mean something?" he asked, his voice dry.

Reading his tone, she didn't answer right away, just gave him a look, now wondering if he was a client or investor.

Adrian said nothing else. He gave her the “I shouldn't even be here” look, a stiff nod, and continued toward his office, but her "American" comment stuck in his head like a burr.

He thought to himself, “Why are locals here so rigid about foreigners and what do they do here?”

Getting to his office, everyone was already seated, awaiting him. The meeting started, and they gave him two options. Staring at them with their proposal, he paused without saying anything else.

“This is it? This is the best you could come up with?” he asks again, looking at his lawyer. “There’s no other way?”

“I’m afraid there isn’t.”

He took some days off from the office to think. It's been a few weeks since he's been here, pressured, he thought to himself. The next time he faces his father is with this whole shenanigans being tackled just like he expected him to handle it.

After a few days, he met his lawyer for more details on how this would work.

“For the record, we would get you someone with a clean record, no criminal offense. I can draft the contract for the whole thing for you.”

Adrian said nothing else, just nodding in agreement, but thought to himself, “At last, this can all come to an end.”

Then a report came in. A worker was caught stealing that night. The report was brief because they did not know the full story yet.

Adrian was already exhausted and pissed when he ordered the worker be brought in. His patience had worn out, from pressure from New York and resistance from Mexico, all at the same time.

When brought in, Adrian was surprised to see the worker was older, his shoulders slightly folded, and his eyes filled with fear rather than defiance.

Leaving his boys to do the work and ask all the questions while he watched from the other side of the locked door and bare walls, watching them, all he felt was more pressure and failure; his father would think of him. Another reminder that he was still fighting to be taken seriously

Eventually, the worker, Carlos Ramirez, spoke.

“My son,” he said, begging and stammering, his blood dried at the corner of his mouth. “He is really sick, and the hospital won’t treat him without payment.”

Adrian felt more irritated watching. “That’s what everyone says these days, isn’t it?” he said, facing his lawyer, and continued observing.

He thought to himself, a worker as old as Carlos would only do something like this for a reason, either greed or family. So he ordered him to be released.

That night, against his better judgment, Adrian told Carlos to lead him to where his kid is.

With little relief and hope that he wasn’t late, he led Adrian to the hospital that smelled of antiseptic and despair. Quickly rushing to a nurse, his hands trembling as he spoke with the money he had been caught stealing, he handed it over to the nurse as payment.

And then he saw her.

Sofia.

She stood in the veranda, her back straight despite being exhausted, clinging to her. As young as she was, her eyes carried weight. Adrian recognized her suddenly and felt a little flicker of surprise.

Just like he saw her last time, lost in her thoughts and carried away. Quiet. Intentionally invisible.

Seeing her dad, she ran to him. “Papa, did you get it?” moving toward Carlos, steadying him, and murmuring something Adrian couldn’t hear, and he didn’t approach.

Then a doctor walked towards them. “We are prepping him for surgery now; you came just in time.”

Adrian, after confirming the medical records, left. Later that day, he consulted his lawyer to run a background check on the Ramirez family.

After that, his legal advisor suggested the solution of marriage to the family. Adrian stared at the documents when they were presented to him and thought to himself, “This is it; let’s close this chapter once and for all.”

There it was, a local union with a clean and respected background. No scandal and a symbolic alignment that would satisfy ethical, social, and legal expectations.

When asked by his legal adviser why he picked this family, he replied, “They owe me a debt.”

Adrian knew what refusing meant: losing the business and disappointing his father, which would only prove again that he could not handle his business by himself. With no other option, he agreed.

The next day, the whole family assembled at Carrington’s residence as agreed.

“We would like to thank you, Señor, for saving my boy’s life; we are indebted to you.”

“Oh yes, you are; this is what Mr. Carrington would like you to do,” his spokesman replied to them, explaining and handing them a copy of the document. With shock, all of them looked at Sofia and faced Adrian.

“Is that going to be a problem?” the spokesman added.

“Not at all,” they responded as she nodded in agreement, and they signed the documents.

Immediately upon getting home, Sofia went directly to her room, sobbing and thinking to herself about what the next phase of her life would be. She came to terms with her unsettling calm mind, already preparing to adapt. She loved her family deeply and accepted it was the sacrifice she had to make.

Her mother was quiet the whole time. Her father stared at the floor with shame and guilt absorbing him.

She understood contracts. She knew a day would come when she would have to make her own sacrifices for her family; the day was finally here.

Then she took the marriage papers and read them carefully. A year with clear boundaries and a clear ending. She closes her eyes and thinks to herself, “As long as Mateo is going to be fine.”

And somewhere across the city, Adrian Carrington, on the other hand, stared at his reflection, unaware that the contract he had just signed was the beginning of something new in his life.

Meanwhile, in another city, Peter Carrington received a report from Mexico and smiled, because everything was unfolding exactly as he had planned.