I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, Luca's voice threaded through the darkness, deep, steady and far too calm for the chaos he'd dropped into my life.
"You have until tomorrow morning."
"Your mother doesn't have a week."
"You won't be pretending."
By dawn, my head throbbed and my chest felt tight with nerves. I didn't have an answer, not the kind that made sense, anyway. There was no winning scenario. Only degrees of losing.
I thought of the hospital bill.
The eviction notice.
My mother's frail smile.
And suddenly the "choice" felt like a cruel word for something that was never a choice at all.
I arrived at the diner for my morning shift, hoping the routine would clear my head. It didn't. I dropped a fork, nearly spilled coffee on a customer, and zoned out so hard that my supervisor snapped her fingers in front of my face.
"Hey, space cadet," Marie said. "You're usually my reliable one. What's going on?"
I swallowed. "Just tired."
She looked at me for a long moment. Not believing me, she never did, but not pushing either.
"You know you can talk to me," she said gently.
I almost laughed.
How would I even begin?
Well, Marie, a billionaire needs me to marry him so he can look stable, and if I don't agree, my mother might not survive the month.
Right.
Because that sounded absolutely sane.
Marie squeezed my shoulder and moved on. But I felt her eyes on me all morning, every time I jolted at the sound of the door, every time my phone buzzed and I froze.
At 10:12, it buzzed again.
A text.
Unknown number again.
Driver outside. When you're ready. —L.M.
I stared at the message so long the screen dimmed. My hands shook, and the air suddenly felt too thin.
This was it.
The moment the rest of my life began, or ended.
I clocked out early. Marie didn't ask why. She just handed me a paper bag with a sandwich inside and whispered, "Take care of yourself, honey."
Her kindness nearly broke me.
The black sedan waiting outside the diner looked painfully out of place among the scratched tricycles and dented taxis. The driver stepped out immediately.
"Miss Hayes," he said with a respectful nod.
He didn't ask if I was coming.
He already knew.
The ride to Moretti Tower felt unreal. My reflection in the tinted window didn't look like a girl about to become a billionaire's wife.
I looked like someone walking toward an execution, or a rebirth. I wasn't sure which.
When the elevator opened to the top floor, I found Luca waiting.
Not behind a desk.
Not surrounded by assistants.
Just… standing. Hands in his pockets, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his forearms.
His eyes lifted the moment he sensed me.
He didn't speak.
Not at first.
He just watched me with that unreadable expression that somehow saw far more than I wanted him to.
"Amelia," he said finally.
Soft. Controlled.
A way no one expected from him.
My throat tightened. "I—I'm here to give my answer."
"Are you?" His gaze flickered across my face. "Or are you here because life gave you no other option?"
I flinched.
Luca exhaled, stepped closer, not enough to touch me, but enough that I felt the heat of him.
"I'm not your enemy," he said. "Despite what the headlines say."
A bitter laugh almost slipped out. "You barely know me."
"I know desperation," he said quietly.
"And I know what it looks like when someone's trying not to break."
His voice softened, almost imperceptibly.
"And you, Amelia Hayes… have been carrying far too much for far too long."
My eyes stung with sudden tears.
"I'm not asking you to love me," he continued. "I'm offering a contract. A year of stability. A year with your mother safe."
His hand, steady and controlled, extended a folder.
The contract.
My name printed neatly on the front.
My future wrapped in crisp white paper.
My heart hammered as I took it, the weight of the pages heavier than anything I'd ever held.
"A year," I whispered.
"Yes," Luca said.
"No more. No less."
"And after that?"
"You walk away wealthy, independent… free."
My fingers tightened on the folder. "And you?"
His jaw flexed, some emotion tightening beneath the surface.
"I get what I need," he said.
"And nothing more."
But then something flickered in his eyes, something unguarded, something he didn't seem to realize he was showing…
…and it wasn't "nothing."
I swallowed hard.
"Luca," I said, his name tasting strange on my tongue. "What if we ruin each other?"
His lips curved, not quite a smile, not quite cold.
"Then," he murmured,
"at least we'll ruin each other on our own terms."
Silence stretched between us.
I drew a shaky breath.
"I'll sign," I whispered. "I'll do it."
Something shifted in him, something subtle, dangerous, almost like relief.
He stepped closer. Close enough to touch. Close enough to cage me between his shadow and the city skyline.
"Then from this moment…" he said, voice dropping,
"You belong to my world."
My heart stumbled.
"And God help us both," he added,
"because nothing in my world stays simple."