ARI'S POV:

Blackwood Holdings was nothing like the pictures in the financial blogs.

In person, it was a monument. A tower of dark, reflective glass that speared the morning sky, so tall I had to tip my head all the way back to see where it ended. It didn't just stand among the other buildings, it dominated them, cold and sleek and untouchable.

I clutched my small, worn purse to my side, my knuckles white. Get it together, Ari. I shook my head, and walked toward the entrance.

The automatic glass doors slid open silently.

If the outside was imposing, the inside was... another world.

The lobby was huge and quiet. The ceiling felt miles high. The floor was a smooth, pale stone that shone under soft lights. The air was cool and smelled clean, like lemon and expensive air freshener.

People moved through it quietly, dressed in perfect, grey suits. They looked like they'd never worn anything secondhand in their lives. Unlike me.

A tall man in a perfectly tailored black suit approached the small cluster of us hovering near the security desk. I wasn't the only interviewee. A few others stood, clutching folders, adjusting ties, their faces having the same nervous hope I felt.

"Good morning. Are you here for the junior executive assistant interviews?" His voice was even clear.

We all nodded or murmured a "yes."

"I am Martin Vance, Mr. Thorne's executive secretary. Please follow me."

He led us to a checkpoint, issued temporary passes, and handed each of us a lanyard with a card. INTERVIEWEE – 8:00 AM BLOCK. I slipped it over my head.

This was it. My only real chance. Not just for a job, but for a lifeline. For Mom's treatments, for Lena's tuition, for a way out of the drowning dark.

This could be the page where my new life began.

I sat in the air-conditioned waiting room. But even the chill in the air couldn't stop me from sweating on the inside. I chewed on the inside of my lip.

I was last. Every other person called before me had walked into the meeting room and come out minutes later wearing a strange look. And each one was quietly escorted out by security. No one spoke. No one looked back.

I had no idea what was happening in there.

By the time my name was called, my nerves were wound tight. I stood up, smoothed my cheap dress, and took a shallow breath.

Well. Here goes nothing. Or everything.

The man on the other side of the table was unfamiliar. Late thirties, maybe. Stern face, thin-framed glasses resting low on his nose. He didn't smile.

"You're Ari Johnson. Twenty-four years old."

"Yes... yes, sir,"

He hummed, flipping through a file in front of him. "Who is your father?"

I blinked. "My father?"

He glared at me and It pushed the answer out of me.

"I... don't know where he is. He was a drunk. He left my mom and my sister years ago."

"I believe he left significant debt."

Was that a question or a statement? "Yes. He did."

"And you are the one attempting to pay it."

I nodded slowly. What kind of interview was this? I came for a job, not to have my life picked apart.

"And your mother has cancer. Without extensive treatment, she will die."

That was it.

I stood up. My chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Is this an interview," I said, my voice trembling, "or a mockery of someone's life?"

"Miss, I advise you to sit down."

"No." I pointed a finger at him, my hand shaking. He didn't flinch. "I'm done with these questions. Are you so bored that you hold fake interviews just to make fun of people?"

The door opened during my outburst.

The man across from me stood up immediately, his posture stiffening. "Good morning, Mr. Thorne."

Mr. Thorne?

As in the CEO.

I turned slowly.

And there he was. Mr night sea blue eyes. The man from the restaurant. His lips were set in a thin line. Everything about him was hard, carved from stone and authority.

I swallowed thickly. All my angry words vanished, lost somewhere deep in my stomach.

"Miss," he said, his voice a low, husky vibration in the quiet room. "It seems there is a problem."

A shiver I couldn't control ran straight through me.

I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to steady. "Your employee seems to enjoy humiliating people. Is that company policy?"

Mr Thorne's expression didn't change. "Yes. You're right, Miss. I do take a certain... satisfaction in listening to the circumstances of a person's life. Especially when it benefits me."

My hands tightened around my purse strap. Then a cold, sickening realization hit me. "How do you even know all this?"

He didn't answer. Just held my gaze, steady and unblinking.

And it clicked. "You ran a background check. On every applicant. That's an invasion of privacy. I could go to the police. They'd arrest you for-"

He cut me off, his voice dangerously calm. "You're free to try. Let's see who they believe."

My breath caught. "What do you want from me?"

He turned his head slightly toward the other man and gave a faint nod.

The man adjusted his glasses. "Miss Johnson, of all the applicants, you are the most... qualified for this position."

"What position?"

"You're to be Mr. Thorne's wife."

The air left the room.

"...What?" I didn't know when I started laughing. "I'm done here."

"I will pay all your debts," he said, his voice even. "I will ensure your mother receives the best treatment available. I will compensate you generously."

I turned and glared at him, this beautiful, cold man in his perfect suit. "Take your money," I said, "and shove it."

I didn't wait for a reply. I brushed past him, my shoulder hitting his arm harder than I'd intended, and walked out of the office without looking back.

I was qualified, my foot. My life was more miserable, they meant. Why did he have to hold interviews to claim a wife when most ladies are willing to be my his side.

The more I thought about it, the more I was getting angry. This was my only hope.

I was already a block away from Blackwood holdings when my phone rang, and it was Lena. I picked it up, "Lena can you believe what just–"

"Sis, they want to take mum off the machines." Her voice choked and trembling. "I'm calling my sister now. Please don't do that. Please."

"Lena." My blood running cold. "talk to me. What is happening?" My legs picking up in haste.

"They said... the last payment didn't clear. We can't afford the next phase of treatment." She broke into sob.

"I'm coming. Don't let them do anything. I'm on my way."

My legs moved before my mind could catch up. I was already running back to the Blackwood's holding. My heels slapping against the pavement, my heart beating too fast.

The receptionist looked up. "Miss, you can't_"

"Is Mr. Thorne still here?" My voice was shaking.

"I need to check_"

I didn't wait. I ran for the elevators.

Security moved."Miss! Stop!"

I slammed my palm against the button. The doors slid open. I jumped in and pressed the floor number, my finger stabbing the same button over and over.

The doors closed just as hands reached for them.

I leaned against the cold metal wall, gasping.

When the doors opened. I ran out, confused, the hallway stretching in both directions. I didn't know where to go.

Then I saw Mr. Vance stepping out of a door, I lunged forward, reaching him just before it closed. My mouth opened to ask to where Mr Thorne was

Then I saw him through the glass. Sitting behind his desk.

I didn't think. I pushed past Vance and shoved the door open.

"I agree to the deal." I announced.

He leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. "The deal is off," he said calmly. "I don't offer second chances."

My knees hit the floor. I didn't care who saw. Didn't care about the shame burning through me.

"Please, Mr. Thorne."

He looked down at me, his face unreadable. "You are desperate."

"Yes." My voice cracked.

"I'll be your wife whether you like it or not."

Ari's POV:

"Yes." My voice broke on the word. "I'll be your wife whether you like it or not."

Silence stretched between us. He looked at me for a long moment, his face giving nothing away. Then he stood up slowly, walked around the desk, and stopped right in front of me. I could see the polish on his shoes, so shiny I could almost see my own reflection in them.

He crouched down until we were eye level. When he spoke, his voice was low and quiet, meant only for me.

"No," he said. "You'll be my wife because I allow it. Never confuse the two."

That's all he said as he stood up and walked back to his chair, the leather creaking softly as he sat down.

"Martin will draw up the papers."

And that was it. Martin came toward me and I knew this was my cue to stand up and leave, but my body wouldn't move. I stayed there on my knees.

"Miss Johnson, please can you get up?" Martin said. His hand was stretched out like he wanted to help me, but he didn't actually touch me.

I looked up at him, then past him at the man behind the desk. "I need money for my mother's treatment. You promised that."

Martin glanced back at Elias, who gave a small nod.

"You'll need to sign the documents first," Martin said gently. "Then the payments will be processed."

I shook my head. "No. I sign after I see the payment go through. Not before."

The room went quiet. I could feel Elias's eyes on me, heavy and sharp.

"You're negotiating with me?" His voice had changed, rougher around the edges now.

I met his gaze even though every part of me wanted to look away. "You said I was desperate. So here it is. Me being desperate. Because if I don't see that payment today, they're taking my mother off the machines. So yes, I'm negotiating."

Another stretch of silence. He stared at me for what felt like a full minute, his fingers drumming once against his desk. Then he gave Martin another small nod.

Martin walked out of the room without a word.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. My hands were curled in the fabric of my dress, gripping it so tight my knuckles ached. I stared down at the floor beneath me, polished dark wood, smooth as glass, probably cost more than everything I owned put together.

I felt that sting of the eyes so I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall. This wasn't me. I wasn't the kind of person who begged on her knees in a stranger's office. I worked for what I had. I showed up early, stayed late, and took the shifts no one else wanted. And now here I was, a beggar on expensive flooring, waiting for a rich man to decide if my mother got to live.

"Don't cry on my floor."

His voice cut through my thoughts, cold and flat. I looked up through my lashes to find him flipping through folders like I was nothing more than a piece of furniture taking up space. Like he hadn't just watched me fall apart at his feet.

"I'd prefer not to have to replace the wood because of your tears."

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He let out a slow breath, set the folder down, and finally looked at me. Then he motioned toward the chair across from his desk.

I forced myself to stand. Every joint in my body protested, cracking like I'd aged twenty years in the past hour. My bones felt tired. My whole body felt tired. I walked over to the chair and lowered myself into it.

The chair was deep charcoal gray, soft leather that hugged my back like it was made for someone important. I sank into it and felt even smaller than before.

I couldn't look at him, at the eye that was too beautiful to belong to a man who showed no emotion. So I looked around instead.

His office was huge. Floor to ceiling windows covered one whole wall, showing off the city spread out beneath us like a toy town. The glass was spotless, not a single smudge. The walls were a soft cream color with dark wood trim, and there were a few pieces of art hung abstract stuff I didn't understand but could tell cost a fortune. A long shelf against one wall held books that probably weren't just for show. Everything was neat, precise, controlled. Just like him.

"I would love to go over the rules with you."

His voice pulled me back. His tone didn't match his words. He didn't care whether I wanted the rules or not. He was telling me, not asking.

"You will still see the rules in the contract. But I feel like I should go over them with you because you seem like the type who will find trouble without meaning to. I don't want that." He paused and looked at me. "Are you listening?"

I nodded.

His eyes narrowed. "Use your voice."

I swallowed. "Yes. I'm listening."

He leaned back in his chair, relaxed in a way that was practiced. "You'll live in my penthouse starting in two days. That gives you enough time to tie up whatever loose ends you have. And once you move in, you'll make less contact with the people close to you."

I sat up straighter. "I don't have anyone close to me except my mother and my sister."

He didn't blink. "Then you'll make less contact with them."

"No." The word came out before I could stop it.

His jaw tightened. "Do you want to sign this contract or not?"

I looked down at my hands. "Yes, sir." My voice was quieter now. "But my mother is dying. I need to be by her side. She doesn't have much time left and I can't just..."

"We'll move her."

I looked up at him.

He held my gaze, steady and calm. "I own a hospital across town. Better doctors, better equipment, better everything. She'll be transferred there by the end of the week. And I'll schedule a meeting for you to see her and your sister before you move in. Once. To explain things."

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. My mother is in a better hospital.

I closed my mouth and nodded slowly. There was nothing left to argue. My mother would get what she needed. All I had to do was keep my head down, follow his rules, and wait out forty-five days. Forty-five days and then I could go back to my life.

He must have seen the acceptance on my face because he continued.

"One more thing. Important." He leaned forward slightly. "While we're in the penthouse, we live as strangers. Separate rooms, separate lives. You don't knock on my door, you don't wait up for me, you don't ask questions. The only time we exist as a couple is outside those walls. In public." He paused. "And you do not fall in love with me."

I met his eyes and let my voice come out clear. "I never planned on it. We'll play our parts and I'll be out of your hair. That's all this is."

Something flickered across his face too fast to name, Then it was gone but the air between us felt heavier suddenly.

Luckily the door opened and Martin walked in holding a tablet. He crossed the room and held it out to me. On the screen was a receipt. My mother's name and the full amount for her treatment, all paid in full.

I stared at the numbers. All that weight, all those months of working myself to bone, skipping meals, praying for a miracle, and here it was. Just like that. A few taps on a screen and my mother got to live.

I wanted to grab that tablet and hug it to my chest. I wanted to cry, and laugh but I did none of those things.

I looked up at Martin. "Can I see the contract please?"

He nodded and handed me a thick stack of papers. I read through every page. Every line. It was exactly what Mr. Thorne had said. There was no hidden trap, just forty-five days of my life in exchange for everything my family needed.

I signed at the bottom. My hand shook but my signature came out clear.

Martin took the papers and gave me a small bow, a slight dip of his head.

"Good day, Mrs. ARI THORNE'S."

Ari's POV:

I held my phone tight in my hands, staring at the dark screen like it could give me the right words to say.

How was I supposed to tell my sister that I just married a stranger to save our mother? That I was moving into some billionaire's penthouse and changing my name for forty-five days?

The phone buzzed unexpectedly and rang in my hands. I flinched so hard I dropped it.

It hit the ground with a loud crack.

"Fuck." I muttered a curse as I bent down to grab it, praying the screen wasn't broken. When I flipped it over, Lena's name was staring back at me.

I swiped to answer immediately. "Lena? What's wrong? Is it Mom?"

Her voice came through the line, shaky and wet with tears. She was still crying.

My heart immediately stopped.

If she tells me they took Mom off the machines, I swear I'll kill both that bastard Thorne and his stupid secretary. I don't care how much money they have or if I land in prison.

"Ari," Lena sniffled. "They put her back on the machine. They're running again. The nurse said someone paid the full treatment cost." She let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I don't know how, I don't know who, but she's stable. Mom's stable. She's going to be okay."

I leaned against the wall and let the air leave my lungs.

"Ari? Are you there? Did you hear me? Mom's going to be okay."

"I heard." My voice came out rough. "I heard, Lena."

"She's going to live. She's going to get better." Lena was crying hard now, like she had been holding it in for a long time. "I was so scared. I thought she was going to leave us. I thought I was going to lose her and I didn't know what I was going to do without her and without you I just..."

"Hey." I cut her off gently. 'Listen to me. She's not going anywhere. Not today. Not anytime soon. Okay?"

Lena kept crying, the only thing I could do was listen to her as I leaned my head back against the wall, letting her pour out all the fear she'd been holding in while I was off selling myself to a man with cold eyes.

"She's going to be okay," Lena whispered after a while.

"Yeah." I closed my eyes. "She is."

Lena let out a laugh through her sniffles. "Look at me crying like an idiot. I'm so silly."

I smiled even though she couldn't see it. "You've always been a crybaby. Remember when you scraped your knee in second grade and cried for three hours?"

She laughed harder, it sounded like she was choking. "That was not three hours. That was maybe thirty minutes."

"It felt like three hours." I teased her.

We both laughed for a moment, then the line went quiet. I heard her take a breath, and I knew what was coming next.

"So," Lena said, clearing her throat. "How was the interview?"

I hesitated. The word stuck in my throat. I could tell her the truth, lay it all out about the contract and the marriage deal. But then what? She'd worry and blame herself or even stop me.

My hesitation must have stretched too long because Lena's voice changed, softer and more careful. "Ari? Did you not get it? Because if you didn't, it's okay. We'll figure something else out. We always do. You don't have to be sad about it, I mean obviously you can be sad but you don't have to worry because I can pick up more hours at the library and maybe..."

"Lena." I cut her off. "I got it."

Silence., then. "Wait, what?"

"I got the job. I was the only one who passed."

The scream that came through the phone made me yank it away from my ear. I held it at arm's length, wincing, until the noise died down.

"Oh my God, Ari!" She was practically bouncing through the phone. "Do you know what this means? Like do you actually understand? You're going to have a real income. A real job with real money. We can actually breathe for once. We can pay for Mom's stuff without counting pennies. We can..." She stopped to take a breath. "This is it. This is our saving grace. I knew it. I knew something good was going to happen."

I listened to her ramble and couldn't bring myself to say anything. How could I tell her that the job came with a ring? How could I ruin this moment for her?

"Ari?" Lena's voice pulled me back. "Hey, speaking of money. Was it you? The payment for Mom's treatment?"

I opened my mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "It's... complicated. I might have paid for it. Or maybe someone else did. I'm not really sure yet."

The silence on her end told me she was frowning. I could feel her gearing up for more questions, the way she always did when something didn't add up. And I wasn't ready to explain any of this.

"Ari, that doesn't make any sense. How can you not know if you..."

"Miss Ari? Are you through with your phone call?"

I turned to the voice behind me. Martin stood in the doorway of the meeting room, his face in a polite expression. I held up one finger, asking for a minute. He nodded once and walked back out.

"Ari?" Lena's voice came through the phone, confused now. "Who was that? Is everything okay?"

I took a breath. "That was my new boss. He needs me for something. I have to go."

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, of course. Go, go. Don't keep him waiting."

"I will. Tell Mom I love her, okay? Tell her I'll come see her soon."

"I will. Ari?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really proud of you."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Thanks, Lena. I'll call you later."

I hung up before she could say anything else.

I stood there for a moment, phone in my hand, breathing in and out slowly and steadily. All the fog in my head, all the mess and confusion, I tried to push it down and out with each breath.

Then I looked at my phone. My stupid, beat-up phone with the cracked corner and the slow battery. Mr. Thorne was going to take this away, get me a new one. New number, new identity, new everything.

Without thinking, I opened my gallery.

Pictures flooded the screen. Nathan and I were at that little diner we used to go to, his arm around my shoulder, both of us grinning like idiots. Nathan and I were at the park, him kissing my cheek while I laughed. Nathan and I were on our two-year anniversary, holding up cheap champagne like it was the finest wine in the world. My eyes in those photos were bright, full of love and trust, but it was just me being plain stupid.

I wondered how he did it. How he faked all those moments. How he looked at me like I was the only person in the world while he was already with someone else.

I swiped to the next photo. It was Mary and me at a coffee shop, our heads tilted together, both of us laughing at something I couldn't remember. I had already picked out her dress for my wedding. She was going to be my maid of honor. We were going to have that stupid party the night before, with junk food and cheap wine and too much laughing.

My throat tightened. I tried to swallow but it hurt.

My thumb moved before I thought about it. I selected all the photos. All of them. Every picture with Nathan, every picture with Mary. The button came up on the screen, asking if I wanted to delete.

My finger hovered over it but I couldn't press it.

My eyes burned as I called myself every name I could think of. Weak, stupid, pathetic. Still holding onto people who threw me away like garbage.

Instead of deleting, I pressed the power button. The screen went black. I slipped the phone into my pocket and stood there in the quiet meeting room, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person.

Should I not let any bad thoughts about them spoil a good day like this right?